Part 2 (2/2)
”'DANGEROUS DRAWBRIDGE--KEEP OFF.'”
Salt drew up at the side of the road. ”Looks as if this is as far as we're going,” he said in disgust. ”There's no other road to the estate.
I'll bet that 'dangerous drawbridge' business is just a dodge to keep undesirables away from the place until after the wedding.”
Penny nodded gloomily. Then she brightened as she noticed an old man who obviously was an estate guard standing at the entrance to the bridge. He stared toward the old car as if trying to ascertain whether or not the occupants were expected guests.
”I'm going over to talk with him,” Penny said.
”Pretend that you're a guest,” suggested Salt. ”You look the part in that fancy outfit of yours.”
Penny walked leisurely toward the drawbridge. Appraisingly, she studied the old man who leaned comfortably against the gearhouse. A dilapidated hat pulled low over his s.h.a.ggy brows seemed in keeping with the rest of his wardrobe--a blue work s.h.i.+rt and a pair of grease-smudged overalls. A charred corn-cob pipe, thrust at an angle between his lips, provided sure protection against the mosquitoes swarming up from the river below.
”Good afternoon,” began Penny pleasantly. ”My friend and I are looking for the Kippenberg estate. We were told at Corbin to take this road but we seem to have made a mistake.”
”You ain't made no mistake, Miss,” the old man replied.
”Then is the estate across the river?”
”That's right, Miss.”
”But how are guests to reach the place? I see the sign says the bridge is out of commission. Are we supposed to swim over?”
”Not if you don't want to,” the old man answered evenly. ”Mrs. Kippenberg has a launch that takes the folks back and forth. It's on the other side now but will be back in no time at all.”
”I'll wait in the car out of the hot sun,” Penny said. She started away, then paused to inquire casually: ”Is this drawbridge really out of order?”
The old man was deliberate in his reply. He blew a ring of smoke into the air, watched it hover like a floating skein of wool and finally disintegrate as if plucked to pieces by an unseen hand.
”Well, yes, and no,” he said. ”It ain't exactly sick but she sure is ailin'. I wouldn't trust no heavy contraption on this bridge.”
”Condemned by the state, I suppose?”
”No, Miss, and I'll tell you why. This here bridge doesn't belong to the state. It's a private bridge on a private road.”
”Odd that Mrs. Kippenberg never had it repaired,” Penny remarked. ”It must be annoying.”
”It is to all them that don't like launches. As for Mrs. Kippenberg, she don't mind. Fact is, she ain't much afraid of the bridge. She drives her car across whenever she takes the notion.”
”Then the bridge does operate!” Penny exclaimed.
”Sure it does. That's my job, to raise and lower it whenever the owner says the word. But the bridge ain't fit for delivery trucks and such-like. One of them big babies would crack through like goin' over sponge ice.”
”Well, I rather envy your employer,” said Penny lightly. ”It isn't every lady who has her own private drawbridge.”
”She is kind of exclusive-like that way, Miss. Mrs. Kippenberg she keeps the drawbridge up so she'll have more privacy. And I ain't blamin' her.
These here newspaper reporters always is a-pesterin' the life out of her.”
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