“Why don’t we try, just for luck? Come on, Lou, at least we can talk to him.”
Much against her will, Louise was induced to accompany Penny to the big grilled gate.
To their surprise, it stood slightly ajar as if in invitation for them to enter. The front grounds were deserted and so was the gatehouse.
“We’re in luck!” chuckled Penny. “Winkey’s gone off somewhere.”
Louise’s feet were reluctant as she followed her chum to the entrance door of the monastery. “Please—” she whispered, but already Penny had thumped the lion’s head knocker against the brass plate.
Several moments elapsed and then a peephole panel just above their heads shot open. Old Julia, in white lace cap, her eyes dilated with wonder or fear, peered out at them.
Her lips moved in a gibberish they could not understand.
“She’s telling us to go away!” Louise decided quickly. “And that’s what we’re doing!”
“No! Wait!” Penny held tight to her chum’s arm. “Someone else is coming now.”
Even as she spoke, the door opened and Father Benedict towered above them in his impressive robes.
“Yes?” he inquired. The word was mildly spoken but with no cordiality.
“Good afternoon, Father,” said Penny brightly. “I hope you don’t mind our coming here again. We’re deeply interested in the work you’re doing and would like to learn more about the cult.”
“A story for newspaper publication?”
“Oh, no!” Penny assured him, reading displeasure in his eyes. “We’re just interested on general principles. No one sent us.”
The monk relaxed slightly but still did not invite the girls in. “I am very busy today,” he said. “Perhaps another time—”
“Oh, but we’ll be in school after this weekend, Father.”
“We are preparing for a ceremonial to be held in the cloister,” Father Benedict frowned. “I deeply regret—”
“Oh, a ceremonial!” Penny interrupted eagerly. “May we see it?”
“That is not allowed. Only members of our cult may take part or observe.”
“Well, at least you don’t mind if we come in and warm ourselves at your hospitable fire,” Penny said, determined not to be turned away. “Since the organization is devoted to charity, shouldn’t it begin with a couple of school girls?”
Father Benedict’s thin lips cracked into a slight smile.
“My observation would lead me to believe that the day is a warm one and that neither of you are suffering from frost-bite. However, I admire perseverance and it shall be rewarded. You may come in—though only for a short while.”
“Oh, thank you, Father!” Penny exclaimed, rather astonished by the decision.
In her eagerness to enter, she nearly stumbled over Old Julia, who huddled by the wall just inside the door. Angrily, the monk glared at his servant.
“Keep from underfoot, Julia!” he ordered. “Begone to the kitchen!”
The old woman, with a frightened glance directed at Louise and Penny, scurried away.
Once inside, the girls could understand why visitors were not welcome, for little had been done to make the place habitable since Penny’s previous visit.
Through chilly halls the monk conducted the girls to the study beyond the cloister. There he motioned them to footstools before the fire. On the hearth a large log which Penny suspected had come from the Eckenrod property, had burned down to a cherry mass of coals.
“Now, suppose you tell me what you actually came here to learn?” Father Benedict asked, looking hard at Penny.
The abrupt question caught her slightly off guard. She could think of no ready reply. As she debated whether or not to tell him of Winkey’s fight with Mr. Eckenrod, footsteps pounded down the corridor.
Suddenly the study door was flung open. The hunchback stood there, breathing hard from having hurried so fast.
“Come quick!” he said tersely to the monk.
“What’s wrong, Winkey?”
“Trouble below!”
Preparing to follow the hunchback, Father Benedict briefly made his excuses to the girls. “I’ll be gone only a minute,” he said. “Warm yourselves until my return.”
After the door had closed behind the pair, Penny said in a low tone: “Wonder what’s up? So far as I know, the only rooms below are the storage cellars and crypt.”
“Maybe some of the dead bodies are coming to life!” Louise joked feebly. “I hate this place worse every minute.”
She arose and wandered slowly about the room. “Somehow, the air is oppressive. I feel as if doom were about to descend upon me!”
“Nerves!” chuckled Penny.
Louise paused beside the crystal ball. “What’s this thing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Only Father Benedict’s crystal globe. Take a look and see what’s doing in the cellar!”
“You’re joking!”
“Guess I am,” Penny agreed. Arising, she joined Louise and for a long moment peered intently into the depths of the crystal ball. Seeing nothing in the glass she muttered in disgust: “Bunk!”
“How does one reach the basement and crypt?” Louise inquired.
“According to a plan I saw at Mr. Eckenrod’s, a stairway leads down from the far end of the cloister. Say! Why not do a little exploring while Father Benedict is away?”
“He wouldn’t like it.”
“We’ll never have a better chance.” Crossing the room in long strides, Penny tried to open the door.
The knob turned readily, but the door would not open.
“Lou,” she exclaimed in dismay, “Father Benedict certainly played a nice trick on us! We’re locked in!”
CHAPTER
13
OLD JULIA’S WARNING
Badly frightened, Louise came quickly to her chum’s side.
“Are you sure the door is locked?” she asked nervously. “Maybe it’s only stuck.”
“It’s locked all right. We’ll do no exploring today.”
“Let’s scream for help! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Father Benedict is in the basement and wouldn’t hear us,” Penny said.
“And he may have locked us in on purpose too! But I heard no key turn in the lock.”
“Neither did I.”
“The door may have an automatic catch.”
“Probably that’s so,” Penny agreed to keep her chum from worrying. “Father Benedict should be back soon. Let’s not let him know we even noticed the door was locked.”
“Do you think he fastened it on purpose?”
“He may have,” Penny said slowly. “Perhaps he didn’t want us to wander about the monastery while he was gone.”
“What if he doesn’t come back?”
“He will, my pet. Now do stop worrying! The smart thing for us to do, is to learn what we can while we’re here.”
“A lot we can learn locked up in this stuffy room!”
Without replying, Penny wandered about the room, scrutinizing art objects and each piece of furniture.
“For a man who professes to live a life of poverty, Father Benedict shows quite a liking for luxury items,” she remarked.
Coming to a battered desk cluttered with papers, she paused and eyed it thoughtfully.
“Penny, we wouldn’t dare pry!” exclaimed Louise, guessing what was in her chum’s mind.
“I suppose not,” sighed Penny, “only I’m sure Mr. Ayling would do it if he were here. Those papers in the pigeon holes look as though they’re unpaid bills—a whole stack of them too!”
On the desk lay an open account book and the girl gazed at it with keen interest. A long list of names had been written in ink. On one side of the ledger was a column marked “Contributions.”
“Penny, you are snooping!” accused Louise, but she added with an excited laugh: “If you find anything worth while, let me know!”
“Then consider yourself officially notified!”
Startled, Louise went quickly to the desk. “What have you found?” she demanded.
Penny showed her the book in which were listed many names.
“This looks like a report covering donations made by cult members to the society!” she declared. “Do you suppose Mrs. Hawthorne’s name is here?”
Hurriedly the girls examined the tiny ledger. First on the list was a Mrs. Carl Kingsley, who had contributed two diamond clips at estimated value of $650.
“Ever hear of her?” Penny asked, for the name was unfamiliar.
“Never. She may not be from Riverview.”
Rapidly they scanned the entire list. There were many names, all of women. Contributions included cash, pearls, silver bracelets, gold wrist watches, an emerald pin, and other articles of jewelry.
However, the girls could not find Mrs. Hawthorne’s name, nor that of her granddaughter.
“This list doesn’t prove anything one way or the other,” Penny said, carefully replacing the ledger on the desk where she had found it. “Mrs. Hawthorne could have joined the cult under a different name. Father Benedict might not even know who she is.”
“Oh, Penny!” teased her companion. “You want to uncover a mystery so badly! Actually, there’s not one bit of evidence that Mrs. Hawthorne ever came here.”
“True,” Penny acknowledged in a low tone, “but you will admit a lot of queer things have happened. For instance, who sent Mr. Ayling the fake telegram? And why hasn’t he returned to Riverview as he said he would?”
“He’s hardly had time yet. Anyway, what connection could his absence have with this monastery?”
“None, perhaps. Unless Mrs. Hawthorne should be here—”
“Oh, Penny! Father Benedict denied that she was, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but that crystal ball reading he gave for Mr. Ayling’s benefit was a strange affair. And Lou! The worst was, he predicted harm would befall him! Maybe it has!”
“So you’re superstitious! Do you really believe in those crystal ball readings?”
“No, I’m not!” Penny denied hotly. “Not for a minute do I put any faith in that crystal ball! But—”
“Mr. Ayling is delayed in Chicago, so you start to worry,” completed Louise. “Penny, you’re certainly building up a case!”
“Maybe I am,” Penny admitted with a shrug. “However, other things bother me too.”
“For instance?”
“That scream we heard at midnight. Mr. Eckenrod and his wife told me they had been awakened by strange noises here.”
“Didn’t you understand from Father Benedict that Old Julia causes the commotion?”
“Yes, and it’s plain to see she is a poor demented creature. Still, there’s something about her—when we came in today, I had a feeling that she was trying to tell us something.”
“She did warn us away. However, in her condition she might say anything. So I dismissed it.”
“I wish I could talk to Old Julia when Father Benedict isn’t around,” Penny said soberly. “I have a hunch she could tell us interesting things about this place!”
“Then you do distrust Father Benedict!”
“Not exactly,” Penny denied. “He’s been pleasant enough to us, and I suppose he has a perfect right to start a crazy cult here if he chooses.”
“It’s not only crazy but profitable,” Louise reminded her. “Those contributions listed total up to several thousand dollars!”
“According to Father Benedict, the money goes to charity. But what charity? It’s a cinch he isn’t spending much in supporting the members of his cult. This building is as barren as a barn, and I’ve not seen any supplies come into the place while we’ve been around!”
“And where are the cult members?”
“They must stay in their rooms.”
“A fine life!”
“I’m sure there are people in this household who aren’t listed in the ledger,” Penny resumed thoughtfully. “For instance, that girl I saw when I came here with Mr. Ayling. Who is she, and where does she keep herself?”
“Why not ask Father Benedict—that is, if we ever get out of here.”
“I can’t quite bring myself to do it, Lou. If ever I started asking questions, I wouldn’t know where to stop.”
“There’s only one that bothers me,” Louise said, roving toward the door. “How are we going to get out of here? Let’s call for help!”
“Okay,” Penny agreed reluctantly. “I hate to do it though.”
First testing the door again to be certain it was locked and not stuck, she pounded with her fists on the heavy oak paneling.
“Let us out!” Louise called loudly. “Let us out! We’re locked in!”
“That ought to fetch someone!” chuckled Penny. “Listen! I think I hear footsteps now.”
From down the corridor, the girls detected a soft patter and a creaking of boards. To attract attention to their plight, they again pounded on the oaken panel.
The footsteps approached the door and halted. Penny, her ear pressed to the panel, could hear the sound of breathing on the other side.
“Let us out!” she called. “We’re locked in here!”
“Sh!” came the loud hiss.
“It must be Old Julia!” Penny whispered to Louise. “Do you suppose she’ll have sense enough to help us?”
“I doubt it,” Louise muttered, resigning herself to a long wait in the monk’s study. “Maybe we can get across to her the idea that she should bring Father Benedict here.”
“Listen, Julia,” Penny began, speaking slowly and as clearly as she could. “We’re locked in here and we need help. Can you bring your master?”
“No! No!” came the sharp answer.
“Then unlock the door,” Penny urged.
“Key gone,” the old woman mumbled.
“Can’t you find it? Don’t you know where your master keeps them?”
There was no answer, but the girls heard the old woman scurry away.
“Has she gone to find a key, or has she just gone?” Louise sighed. “Father Benedict probably still is in the basement with Winkey, so we can expect no help from that quarter.”
Impatiently, Penny glanced at her wrist watch. Actually, they had been locked in the room less than twenty minutes, but it seemed three times that long.
“It’s useless!” Louise said, seating herself by the fire again. “We’re trapped here until Father Benedict gets around to letting us out!”
At the door, Penny’s keen ears detected sound. Again the pad, pad of footsteps!
“Old Julia’s coming back!” she exclaimed. “Maybe she’s not as stupid as we thought!”
Anxiously the girls waited. To their great relief, they heard a key turn in the lock. Then, an inch at a time, the door was pushed open.
Old Julia, her eyes wild, and hair streaming down her face, stared blankly in at them.
“Thanks, Julia!” said Penny. She tried to touch the woman’s hand in a gesture of friendship, only to have her shrink back.
“Why, we won’t hurt you,” Penny attempted to sooth her.
“Go!” the woman mumbled, her cracked lips quivering. “Go!”
Seeing us here always seems to upset her, Penny thought. Aloud she remarked: “Yes, we’re leaving now. If Father Benedict wonders what became of us, I’m afraid he’ll just have to guess.”
The girls started toward the cloister with Old Julia following a step behind.
“Hurry! Hurry!” she muttered. “No time!”
“Oh, we have plenty of time, if that’s what you mean,” replied Penny, smiling at her in a friendly way. Suddenly she halted as the thought occurred to her that she might obtain useful information from the woman if only she phrased her questions skillfully.
“Julia, you must know everyone who lives here in the dormitory rooms,” she began. “Do you often see a girl about my age?”
A strange light flickered for a moment in the old woman’s watery gray eyes, then died. She merely stared at Penny.
“No soap!” commented Louise. “Let’s get out of here.”
Penny, however, was persistent.
“Julia, you must have seen her—a girl like me,” she emphasized. “Does she sleep here?”
“Sleep—sleep—” the word seemingly had aroused an unpleasant chain of thought in the old woman’s twisted mind.
“Where is the girl’s room?” Penny probed.
Julia did not act as if she had heard the question. She was mumbling to herself, a look of horror upon her face.
“What’s she saying?” Louise demanded, unable to catch a word.
Penny bent closer. Distinctly she heard the old woman mutter: “The canopied bed! In the chapel room—”
Then old Julia stiffened and she flattened herself against the wall of the passageway, her eyes wide with fear.
Directly ahead, in the doorway opening onto the cloister, stood Father Benedict.
CHAPTER
14
AN ASSIGNMENT FOR PENNY
Father Benedict’s face was as expressionless as a marble statue, but his dark eyes smoldered with anger.
Ignoring Penny and Louise for the moment, he fixed the cringing Julia with stern gaze.
“Did I not order you to remain in the kitchen?” he demanded. His voice was low, almost purring. Nevertheless, the woman acted as if she had been lashed with a whip.
Mumbling unintelligibly, she scurried off down the covered passageway along the side of the cloister, and disappeared through another doorway.
“Please, it wasn’t Julia’s fault that she was here,” said Penny, feeling sorry for the unfortunate woman. “Louise and I called for help and she came to assist us.”
“Yes, we were locked in the study,” added Louise. “If she hadn’t come to our rescue, we would have been there yet.”
“Do I understand you to say you were locked in?” asked the monk, his shaggy eyebrows lifting in astonishment. “The door sticks sometimes.”
“It was locked,” interposed Penny quietly. “We tried several times to open it. Julia finally let us out with a key.”
Having divulged this bit of information, she immediately regretted it. A shadow passed over the monk’s countenance.
“A key?” he repeated. “How would Julia know—” Breaking off, he smiled and completed: “The locks here are very old and sadly in need of repair. I must have a locksmith in immediately.”
Father Benedict fixed his gaze upon one of the twisted, weather-stained columns of the cloister, for the moment seeming to forget the girls. Becoming a little uncomfortable, they edged toward the exit.
“We’ll be going now,” said Penny to remind him of their presence. “That is, unless you’ll permit us to witness the cult ceremony.”
“The main hall has not yet been prepared,” Father Benedict replied quickly. “We have postponed the ceremony until later tonight.”
“Perhaps we could return then.”
“It would be highly inadvisable.” Father Benedict’s deep frown plainly showed that he was becoming irritated. “The members of our sect are sensitive to visitors. I regret onlookers are not as yet welcome.”
That’s telling me in a nice way to mind my own business, thought Penny. Aloud she said: “I see. Well, later on, perhaps.”
Politely, Father Benedict escorted the girls through the cloister. Penny noted that much of the dirt and debris had been swept away. A beautifully carved stone stairway, which she had failed to notice upon her previous visit, led up to a narrow balcony.
Observing that many doors opened from it, she inquired if the dormitories were above.
“They are,” the monk replied in a brief tone which discouraged further questions.
“It’s so still in here,” remarked Louise as they walked on. “One never would dream many people are staying in the building.”
“We lead a quiet life,” the monk explained. “For the most part, my people spend their time reading or in meditation and prayer.”
The three now had reached the front door, and Penny thought she detected an expression of relief upon Father Benedict’s face as he opened it for them.
“By the way,” she remarked, “was anything seriously wrong in the cellar?”
“Oh, no! Nothing at all! Merely a leaking pipe. A plumber will take care of it. Thank you, and good afternoon.”
With no show of haste, but very firmly, the monk closed the door in their faces.
“Well, how do you like that!” Penny muttered. “I never received a smoother brush-off!”
Snow was melting fast and running in rivers down the brick walk as the girls sauntered toward the gate. Winkey was nowhere to be seen, but knowing he might be close by, they were careful not to discuss Father Benedict until they were well beyond the property boundaries.
“Well, I guess this puts an end to your visits here,” remarked Louise as they walked toward the parked car. “Father Benedict seems determined not to let you witness one of the cult ceremonies.”
“Which makes me all the more determined to see one!”
“I have a hunch he’ll turn you away if you call at the monastery again. Why don’t you forget the place, Penny?”
“I should say not! I have an idea—it just came to me!”
“I suppose you’ll sneak back at night or something equally as dramatic,” teased Louise.
Penny plucked an icicle from a roadside bush, nibbling at it thoughtfully as she replied: “Only as a last resort. No, I’ll drop in at the newspaper office and get Mr. DeWitt, the city editor, to assign me to do a feature story on the ceremony tonight. If I officially represent the Riverview Star, Father Benedict can’t so easily turn me away.”
The girls had reached the car. Stowing their skiing equipment, they motored rapidly toward the city.
“What did you think of Old Julia?” Penny inquired as they neared Louise’s home. “Especially her remark about the canopied bed in the chapel?”
“Whoever heard of a bed of any kind in a chapel?” Louise scoffed. “She’s dizzy, that’s all.”
“From a map Mr. Eckenrod showed me, I know the chapel is just off the cloister above the crypt,” Penny recalled, switching on the windshield wiper to clear the glass of melting snow. “I suppose it could have been converted into a bedroom.”
“I don’t think her remark meant a thing. She mumbles most of the time.”
“True, but the thing I noticed was that she seemed so afraid of Father Benedict. Do you suppose he abuses her?”
“Oh, Penny! A man of his calling?”
“He’s not a real monk. Apparently this cult is only an order that has been in existence a short time. Father Benedict doesn’t impress me as a very religious man. Furthermore, all that crystal-glass-gazing business leads me to think he’s more of a charlatan than anything else!”
“Do you think he runs the place to get money?”
“I’m wondering, that’s all. We know he accepts very liberal contributions from his converts. Where does the money go?”
“If I were certain he locked us in that room today, I’d believe the worst!” Louise declared as the car stopped in front of the Sidell home. Opening the door to alight, she added: “He put up a good story though. I guess it must have been an accident.”
Penny made no reply.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louise bade her goodbye. “If you arrange to see one of the cult ceremonies, be sure to let me know.”
The afternoon now was late. Penny drove to the Riverview Star building. Girls who worked in the downstairs business office were leaving for the day, but upstairs the editorial staff was just swinging into action for a busy night.
At the city editor’s desk a short wave radio blared routine police calls. Editor DeWitt, an eyeshade pulled low over his eyes, scowled as he rapidly scanned copy.
Seeing Penny, he looked up and smiled, which was the signal for her to explain the purpose of her call.
Going straight to the point, she asked to be assigned a feature story on the cult ceremony that night in the monastery.
“Think you can get it?” he demanded gruffly.
“Why not?”
“Two of our reporters already have failed. The high monkey-monk out there won’t allow any of our men in the building.”
“Then you’d like a story?”
“Sure. We’re interested in what’s going on out there.” Mr. DeWitt slashed a page of corrected copy in half with his long scissors. He dropped one section onto the floor and the other into the copy basket. “Learn anything worth while out there today?”
“Nothing worthy of print. If you’ll assign me to the story I’ll go back tonight. I think I can get inside again.”
“Okay, give me a ring if you run into anything interesting. Your father know you’re going?”
“Well, I haven’t told him yet.”
“Be sure you do,” said Mr. DeWitt, looking her straight in the eyes. “I don’t want to find myself sitting behind the eight ball!”
“Oh, I’ll let Dad know,” Penny assured him hastily. “I’ll do it now.”
However, her father was in conference, so after waiting around the office a little while, she decided to talk the matter over with him when he came home for dinner.
In the elevator, leaving the office, Penny ran into Jerry Livingston. Hearing of the assignment, he looked a little worried.
“Think you ought to go out to the monastery alone at night?” he inquired.
“I don’t see why not, Jerry.”
“I’ve not met Father Benedict myself,” Jerry said, “but one of our reporters who was out there yesterday, didn’t like his appearance. I’ll bet a cent your father refuses to let you go.”
“I hope not,” Penny said anxiously. “I’ll put up a big argument.”
“What time you leaving?” Jerry asked as the elevator let them out on the main floor.
“Early. Maybe around seven o’clock.”
“Well, good luck,” Jerry said. “I suppose it’s all right, or DeWitt wouldn’t have given you the assignment.”
Parting company with the reporter, Penny stopped briefly at the Riverview Hotel to inquire if Mr. Ayling had returned from Chicago. He had not checked in.
“Queer he doesn’t come after sending that telegram,” she thought. “I wonder what’s delaying him?”
Arriving home a few minutes later, Penny heard the sound of pounding as she entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weems was scraping carrots at the sink.
“Did you have a good time skiing?” the housekeeper inquired.
“Fair.” Penny stripped off her mittens and hung them on a radiator. “Snow’s melting fast today. What’s that awful pounding?”
“Jake Cotton finally came. He’s building the bookcases in your father’s study.”
“Oh, yes,” recalled Penny. “I thought from the sound the place was being torn down!”
After removing her heavy ski suit and putting her skiing equipment away, the girl wandered into the study.
Jake Cotton, a short, wiry old man, was gathering up his tools preparatory to leaving. Boards of various length were strewn over the carpet.
“Well, reckon I’ll call it a day,” he remarked. “It’ll take me all tomorrow to finish the job. That is, if I can arrange to get back.”
“You have another job?” Penny inquired.
“I’ve been doing a little work for them folks that moved into the monastery,” the carpenter explained. “The man that owns the place pays well, but he’s mighty fussy. Wants the work done the minute he says!”
“I suppose a great deal should be done out there, the building is so old.”
“It’s a wreck!” Jake Cotton said, picking up his tool kit. “A dozen workmen couldn’t put it in liveable shape in two weeks! They want such trivial things done too, while they let more important repairs wait.”
“For instance?”
“Well, the first job the monks had me do was fix the old freight lift into the cellar!”
“I didn’t know the building had one,” said Penny in surprise. “Is it on the first floor?”
“In the old chapel room off the cloister,” Jake explained. “Least, that’s what I took it to be. They’re using it for a bedroom now. I ask you, what would any sensible person want with a freight lift in a bedroom?”
“It does seem unusual. Why was it originally installed in the chapel?”
“I heard it was done when the building was built,” Mr. Cotton told her. “Years ago, they had burial services in the chapel, and caskets were lowered to the crypt below.”
“How does the lift operate?”
“It’s just a section of flooring that lowers when the machinery is turned on,” the carpenter explained. “With a carpet over the boards, you wouldn’t know it was there.”
“And for what purpose is it to be used now?”
Mr. Cotton had started for the doorway. Penny trailed him to the front porch, eager to learn more.
“I couldn’t figure out what the new owners aim to do with the lift,” the carpenter replied, pausing on the steps. “Reckon they’ll use it to lower heavy luggage and maybe unwanted furniture into the basement for storage.”
“Did you see the crypt?”
“Didn’t get down there. The monk had his own man, a hunchback, oil up the machinery and put it in working order. I only repaired the flooring.”
“So the room is used as a bedroom now?”
“Looked that way to me. Leastwise, I saw a big bed in there. One of them old fashioned contraptions with a lot of dust-catching draperies over it.”
“Not a canopied bed!”
“Reckon it was,” Mr. Cotton answered carelessly. “Well, see you tomorrow if I’m not called back to the monastery to do another rush job! So long!”
Before the startled Penny could ask another question, he hurried off down the darkening street.
CHAPTER
15
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
Jake Cotton’s careless remark about the canopied bed at the monastery filled Penny with deep excitement.
“Perhaps Old Julia isn’t as crazy as she seems!” she thought. “The place does have a canopied bed, and she may have been trying to tell me something about it!”
Now more than ever, Penny was determined to revisit the monastery that night. Many unanswered questions plagued her. Not only was she curious to witness a cult ceremony, but also she wished to learn the identity of the strange girl who lived on the premises. And she hoped to view the chapel room with the freight lift and if possible, to see the canopied bed of which Old Julia had prattled so unintelligibly.
Hastening into the house, Penny sought Mrs. Weems in the kitchen.
“Anything I can do to help with dinner?” she inquired.
The housekeeper, in the act of putting a kettle of potatoes on the fire to boil, eyed her with instant suspicion.
“And where do you plan to go when dinner is over, may I ask?” she inquired.
“Only out to the monastery.”
“Again! You came from there not a half hour ago!”
“Oh, Mr. DeWitt assigned me to cover a cult meeting tonight,” Penny assured her hastily.
“And your father approves?”
“Haven’t seen him yet. He ought to be coming home any minute now.”
“Your father telephoned he will be detained,” Mrs. Weems explained. “I doubt he’ll be home before nine o’clock. So the monastery expedition is out of the question!”
“Oh, Mrs. Weems!” Penny was aghast. “I promised Mr. DeWitt! He’s depending on the story.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” the housekeeper replied, though she softened a little. “I simply can’t allow you to go to the monastery alone at night—”
“Oh, I’ll start right away—just as soon as I can grab a bite of dinner,” Penny broke in eagerly. “If Father Benedict refuses me permission to see the ceremony, then I can come back.”
“You can, but will you?”
“Eventually, at least,” Penny grinned. “Oh, Mrs. Weems, have a heart! Can’t I telephone Dad somewhere?”
The housekeeper shook her head. “He’s in an important meeting and can’t be disturbed until it’s over.”
“But you will let me go? I won’t be gone long.”
“Oh, I suppose I’ll have to give in,” Mrs. Weems sighed. “I usually do. I’ll hurry dinner along so you can get back early.”
While the housekeeper fried pork chops, Penny set the table and prepared a salad. When the meal was ready she ate with a haste that shocked Mrs. Weems.
“I declare, your table manners become worse every day!” she protested. “Your mind isn’t on what you are doing.”
“It’s on what I’m about to do!” Penny chuckled, getting up from the table. “I don’t want any dessert tonight. See you later!”
Donning a heavy coat and slipping a flashlight into one of the deep pockets, she left the house.
The night was dark, for as yet there was no moon. Penny drove rapidly through Riverview and along the lonely road which led to the monastery.
Despite the speed of her car, she soon noted that another automobile was overtaking her. The girl pressed her foot a little more firmly on the gasoline pedal, but still the other car gained.
She was driving forty-five miles an hour when the big black car passed her traveling at least sixty. On the narrow road, Penny was crowded dangerously close to the ditch.
“The nerve of some people!” she muttered in disgust. “No wonder there are so many highway accidents!”
Penny caught only a fleeting glimpse of the black car’s driver, a man hunched low over the steering wheel.
“Why, that looked like Winkey!” she thought. “And another man was with him in the front seat! I wonder if it was Father Benedict?”
Penny speeded up but found it impossible to keep the car in view. When she skidded at a curve, she wisely slowed down and abandoned the chase.
Approaching the monastery ten minutes later, the girl decided to park a short distance from the entrance gate. She left the car at the roadside beyond view of the gatehouse, and tramped on through the slush and snow.
Coming within sight of the ancient building, she paused.
The big gate stood ajar, and on the driveway stood the black automobile which had passed her car down the road.
“So it was Winkey!” she thought.
At the gateway Penny gazed carefully about the grounds. The hunchback was nowhere to be seen and the gatehouse remained deserted.
“So far, so good!” she encouraged herself. “Now if only Father Benedict doesn’t refuse to let me into the house!”
Thinking over what she would say to the monk, Penny walked slowly up the driveway. Nearly all of the snow had melted, leaving large puddles to be avoided.
However, near where the black car had been parked, a section of yard was shadowed from the sun during the day. Here the damp snow remained in deep banks.
As Penny passed the car, she noticed a double set of men’s footprints leading from the parked automobile toward the rear of the premises.
Also, she observed long marks which indicated the two men had dragged a heavy object over the snow.
“I suppose it was a sack of potatoes or supplies for the monastery,” she mused. “It must be a job keeping this place in operation. Riverview stores never would make deliveries so far out.”
Windows of the monastery were dark, though far inside the building dim lights could be seen. With a feeling akin to dread Penny went to the door and rapped with the brass knocker.
Now that she actually was embarked upon adventure, she rather regretted she had promised Mr. DeWitt a feature story. By night the monastery seemed more austere and unfriendly.
Minutes elapsed and no one came to answer the door. Impatiently, Penny clanged the knocker several times in rapid succession. Only then did she hear approaching footsteps.
At last the big door swung outward to reveal Father Benedict. His eyes narrowed with displeasure as he saw her.
“Well?” he inquired. Penny observed that he was a little breathless from having hastened.
“I don’t suppose you expected to see me here again so soon!” she began with forced gaiety. “Do you mind if I witness the cult ceremony tonight?”
“We discussed that this afternoon. I am very sorry—” Father Benedict began to close the door.
“I want to write a little story about it for the newspaper,” Penny went on, talking fast. “If you’ll only—”
The door closed in her face. Distinctly she heard a key grate in the lock.
“Well, how do you like that?” Penny muttered angrily. “Who does he think he is, anyhow?”
She started away, only to pause and gaze thoughtfully back at the darkened windows. To return to the newspaper office without a story would be humiliating. A good reporter never failed.