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The Cry
at
Midnight
_By_
MILDRED A. WIRT
_Author of_
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS
_Illustrated_
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_
NEW YORK
_PENNY PARKER_
MYSTERY STORIES
_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_
TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER
GHOST BEYOND THE GATE
HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE
VOICE FROM THE CAVE
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
SIGNAL IN THE DARK
WHISPERING WALLS
SWAMP ISLAND
THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT, 1947, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.
The Cry at Midnight
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
1 MIDNIGHT AT THE GATE _1_
2 "NO TRESPASSING" _8_
3 STRANGER OF THE STORM _17_
4 VANISHING FOOTPRINTS _24_
5 A CRYSTAL BALL _35_
6 CREAKING WOOD _45_
7 A WARNING _51_
8 INTO THE CREVASSE _59_
9 A CALL FOR HELP _67_
10 MR. ECKENROD'S SECRET _73_
11 MAP OF THE MONASTERY _79_
12 THE LOCKED DOOR _86_
13 OLD JULIA'S WARNING _96_
14 AN ASSIGNMENT FOR PENNY _105_
15 FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW _116_
16 THE KITCHEN CUPBOARD _125_
17 THE CULT CEREMONY _132_
18 ELEVEN BOWLS _141_
19 A DORMITORY ROOM _147_
20 TRICKERY _155_
21 SNATCHED FROM THE FLAMES _163_
22 THE CANOPIED BED _170_
23 DESCENT INTO THE CRYPT _178_
24 CHAMBER OF THE DEAD _186_
25 THE STAR SAPPHIRE _197_
CHAPTER
1
_MIDNIGHT AT THE GATE_
After a long, tiring climb, the two friends, Penny Parker and Jerry
Livingston, had reached the summit of Knob Hill, far above the city of
Riverview.
Now as they paused in the moonlight to catch their breath, the slim,
golden-haired girl bent to adjust the irons of her skis before making a
swift descent to the clearing below.
"We'll not have many more glorious skiing nights like this one," she said
regretfully. "Anytime now, the weather is due to turn warm."
Jerry, a reporter at the _Riverview Star_, nodded as his gaze swept the
snowy hillside, unmarked save for the herring-bone tracks made by their
own skis.
Tall and muscular, he was several years older than Penny, who attended
high school. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, giving him the
appearance of a semi-amused spectator of the world's goings-on.
"Jerry, it's getting late," she reminded him. "This will have to be our
last run tonight. Ready?"
"Okay, I'll race you to the valley!" the reporter challenged. "Let's go!"
Digging in their poles, they flashed off down the hillside. Though they
started together, Penny soon forged ahead, descending the steep slope in
graceful, curving Christiania turns.
Beneath the mellow moon, snow crystals were brilliant with light. Every
pine bristled with glowing icicles. Penny, feeling the rush of wind on
her cheek, drew in her breath and was glad to be alive.
With effortless ease, she swung her hips for the sharp turns between the
trees. Finally reaching the clearing, she brought up with a spectacular
jump-turn and waited for Jerry who was close behind.
"You're getting faster every trip!" he praised. "I haven't a chance any
more!"
Penny laughed, and with her arm linked in his, glided on to the fire
where a group of noisy young people were roasting wieners and boiling
coffee.
"Time you're getting back!" declared Louise Sidell, a dark-haired girl in
heavy red woolen snowsuit. She was on her knees in the snow, feeding
hickory chips to the cherry red fire.
Louise considered Penny her dearest friend. Though she would not have
admitted it, she was slightly green-eyed whenever another person claimed
any of her chum's attention.
"M--m! That coffee smells delicious!" Penny cried, sniffing the fragrant
aroma. "I'm starved too!"
She and Jerry made their own sandwiches and poured the steaming beverage.
After they had finished eating, the reporter suggested one last climb to
Knob Hill.
"It's nearly midnight," said Louise, before Penny could accept. "Oughtn't
we to be starting home?"
Immediately a loud chorus of protest arose from other members of the
party. Penny looked at her wristwatch regretfully.
"I hate to break up the party," she said. "But I promised Dad I would be
in fairly early tonight. Lou and I will run along, and the rest of you
stay."
"I'll take you home if you must leave," Jerry offered.
"Oh, Penny has her car," said Louise quickly. "It's parked on the
roadside just over the hill."
"Yes," Penny added, "we'll ski down there and be home in a few minutes."
"You're not afraid to go alone?" Jerry asked teasingly.
"Afraid?" The question caught Penny by surprise. "Why should we be?"
"You'll have to pass the old deserted Abbington Monastery to reach your
car. It's a spooky place at night!"
Penny arose and slipped her wrists through the loops of her ski poles.
"Now don't put ideas into our heads!" she chuckled. "It's just another
building."
"Sure you don't want me to go along?" urged Jerry.
"Of course not! Louise and I can handle any ghost we'll meet tonight!"
The girls glided away, pausing at the top of the slope to wave goodbye to
their friends. Then they shot down the hill on a trail which skirted a
dense grove of pine.
Ahead loomed the gloomy old Abbington Monastery, a structure of moldy
stone enclosed by a high brick wall. To the right, inside the enclosure,
was an ancient graveyard, many of its white stones at rakish angles.
Penny studied the building with keen interest as she waited for Louise to
catch up with her. Built generations earlier, the property first had been
used by an order of Black Friars bound to the vows of poverty and
obedience.
Later, the monastery had been taken over by an order of nuns, but as the
buildings deteriorated, the property had been abandoned. For ten years
now, it had stood unoccupied.
"Ugly old place!" puffed Louise, pausing beside her chum to catch her
breath. "All the windows broken--why, that's funny!"
"What is?" demanded Penny.
"The windows aren't broken! They've been replaced!"
"Probably the owner did it to save his property from going completely to
wreck and ruin. Wonder who owns the place anyhow?"
"The last I heard, it was sold at public auction for taxes. I think a
real estate man bought it for a song."
"Then maybe he intends to fix it up for rent or sale," Penny remarked.
"But who would want to live in that ancient shell? Somehow, the place
gives me the creeps!"
Louise was staring hard at an upstairs window of the distant building.
"Penny!" she exclaimed. "I saw a moving light just then!"
"Where?"
Louise pointed to the window high on the stone wall of the monastery.
"I don't see anything," replied Penny. "You must have imagined it."
"I did not! The light is gone now. But I saw it plainly. It may have been
from a lantern. Someone was moving from room to room!"
"Maybe it was a reflection of moonlight then." Undisturbed, Penny removed
her skis. Carefully placing the running surfaces together, she threw them
over her left shoulder.
Far away, in the city of Riverview, a tower clock began to chime the hour
of midnight.
"Penny!" insisted Louise in a half-whisper. "I did see a light! Maybe the
old monastery is haunted--"
"Now hush!" Penny silenced her. "What are you trying to do? Work up a
case of nerves?"
"But--"
"Just climb out of those skis and come on, my pet." Penny moved briskly
away. "We're late now."
"Wait for me!" Frantically, Louise fumbled with her ski irons. "Don't
leave me here alone!"
"Then not another word about ghosts!" Penny chided.
However, she waited patiently until her chum had removed the skis. The
two girls then walked rapidly toward the roadside where the car had been
parked. No longer could they see the friendly campfire in the valley. As
they drew closer to the monastery, towering pines blotted out the
moonlight.
Like a powerful magnet, the old stone building drew their gaze.
Deep snow, glittering with an eerie blue lustre, lay heavy on the high
boundary wall. In the deserted garden beyond the gatehouse, several
statues also were covered with soft white shrouds.
Louise clutched her chum's hand and urged her to a faster pace.
Then suddenly, with one accord, the girls halted.
Directly ahead, at the front entrance to the monastery, a big rusty gate
stood slightly ajar!
"It's open!" whispered Louise. "Why, never before have I seen that gate
unlocked!"
For an instant, Penny too was slightly unnerved. But she replied
steadily: "What of it? Perhaps someone has moved in."
While Louise watched uneasily, she walked to the gate, fingering the
rusty chain which dangled in the snow.
Then boldly, she pushed the gate farther open.
"Don't go in there!" Louise warned, her voice sharp with anxiety. "Please
come on."
Penny's ears were deaf to the plea. She stared intently at a trail of
footprints which led from where she stood to a circular stone gatehouse
only a few yards away. The marks were very large and had been made by a
man's heavy boot.
"Lou--" she began, but the words froze on her lips.
From inside the monastery came a shrill, piercing scream. As the girls
huddled together, the sound died slowly away.
Then a silence, even more terrifying, fell upon the grounds.
CHAPTER
2
_"NO TRESPASSING"_
"Someone _is_ inside that building!" Penny exclaimed, recovering from
startled surprise.
Tensely, the girls waited, but the sound was not repeated.
"It was a woman's scream," Louise whispered after a moment. Nervously,
she clung to her chum's hand as they stood in the shadow of the big iron
gate. "What can be happening in there?"
Penny stared at the dark monastery, uncertain what to do. Nowhere was a
light visible, yet she felt that not only was the building occupied, but
also that alert eyes were watching them from somewhere in the gloomy
interior.
"Someone may be in trouble and need help," she said in an unsteady voice.
"Let's rap on the door and ask."
"At this time of night?" Louise tugged at her chum's hand, trying to pull
her away. "Let's go, Penny! It's really none of our affair what goes on
here."
"But someone may be ill and in need of a doctor."
"It wasn't that type of scream," Louise replied with a shiver. "That cry
gave me the creeps!"
Penny allowed herself to be pulled from the gate, only to pause and gaze
again at the darkened windows of the ancient monastery.
The only daughter of a newspaper owner, she had been trained to inquire
the who, when, why, where, and how of anything unusual. Penny never
willingly passed up an opportunity to obtain a good news story for the
_Riverview Star_. She knew that if the old monastery were occupied after
standing deserted so many years, the readers of her father's paper would
be interested.
Furthermore, she reasoned, a scream from a darkened house, always called
for investigation.
"Louise," she said with sudden decision. "We can't leave without trying
to find out what's wrong here! I'm going inside!"
"Oh, Penny--please don't! This place is so far from other houses. If
anything should happen--"
"Something _has_ happened," replied Penny grimly. "You wait here, Lou.
I'll be right back."
Despite her chum's protest, she returned to the big iron gate, and
pushing it farther open, stepped inside the grounds.
Intuition warned Penny to proceed cautiously. She sensed rather than saw
a dark figure crouching in the arched doorway of the circular stone
gatehouse to the right of the snow-banked driveway.
Before she could decide whether the form was real or a product of her
imagination, a large, savage dog darted from inside the gatehouse. His
low growl warned her it might be dangerous to attempt to pass.
"Come back!" Louise called anxiously. "He'll tear you apart!"
Though no coward, a second glance at the dog convinced Penny that the
animal had been trained to guard the property. Rapidly, she backed away.
Her hand was on the latch of the gate, when in the gatehouse doorway, she
beheld a grotesque, deformed human figure.
The sight so startled Penny that for an instant she forgot the dog.
Plainly silhouetted against the gray stone was a hulk of a man with large
head and twisted back made unsightly by a hump.
Though his eyes were full upon the girl, he remained motionless, speaking
no word.
"Call off your dog!" Penny said sharply.
Only then did the figure move from the doorway into the moonlight.
"Quiet, Bruno!" he ordered in a rasping voice. "Lie down!"
As the dog obeyed, Penny caught her first plain glimpse of the deformed
man's face. His skin was heavily lined and fell in deep folds at his
stocky neck. But it was the dark, intent eyes which sent a shiver down
her spine.
"Good evening," she said uneasily.
The gateman did not respond to the greeting. Instead, he demanded
gruffly:
"What you doin' on this property?"
"Why, I was only investigating because the gate was unlocked," replied
Penny. "I didn't know the house was occupied."
"You know it now. See that sign!" The gateman turned on his flashlight,
focusing it upon a freshly painted placard tacked to a nearby tree.
The sign read, "No Trespassing."
"I'm sorry," Penny apologized, but stood her ground. "Are you the new
owner of this place?"
"No, I ain't. I'm the gateman."
"Then who has taken over the building?"
"What's it to you?" the hunchback demanded unpleasantly.
"I'm interested, that's all."
"This place is being turned into an institution," the hunchback informed
her. "The new owner moved in yesterday. Now git along, so I can lock the
gate."
The gateman's eagerness to be rid of her made Penny all the more
determined to remain until her curiosity was satisfied.
"Perhaps I fancied it," she remarked, "but a moment ago, I thought I
heard a shrill scream from inside the building."
"You may have heard the howl of the wind."
"What wind?" Penny inquired pointedly. "It's a comparatively quiet night.
I distinctly heard a scream."
"Then you got better ears than I have," the gateman muttered. "Will you
go now, or do you want me to call the master?"
"I wish you would!"
Grumbling to himself, the hunchback stepped into the gatehouse and
pressed a button which rang a bell inside the building.
A light went on in a downstairs room, and a moment later the front door
opened. Framed on the threshold stood a very tall man in dark, hooded
robe.
"What's wrong, Winkey?" he called. "You rang?"
"There's a girl here wants to see you," shouted the hunchback. "She says
she heard a scream and wants to know how-come."
Treading lightly in the loose snow, the thin man came down the driveway
to the gate. His long, brown robes were impressive, his demeanor pious.
Penny suddenly felt very foolish indeed.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a kindly, silken-smooth voice.
"This girl's tryin' to get in," announced Winkey. "Says she heard a
scream."
The hooded monk studied Penny with an intent gaze.
"You live near here?" he inquired.
"In Riverview. I was out skiing with a few friends when I passed this old
building and heard the scream. Your gateman tried to tell me it was only
the wind."
"My child, doubtlessly you did hear a scream," the monk replied. "It was
Old Julia, a poor woman, who unfortunately sometimes becomes disturbed in
her mind."
"This isn't a mental institution?" gasped Penny, regretting that her
curiosity ever had taken her inside the grounds.
"No, my child," responded the monk. "Winkey should have explained. We
have opened up the old monastery for the purpose of restoring an ancient
order in which members dedicate themselves to a life of poverty, good
will, and charity."
"The one you call Old Julia--she also is a member?"
The monk sighed deeply. "Old Julia is only an unfortunate whose twisted
mind never can be healed by doctors. Because she had no home--no friends,
I have taken her beneath my roof."
"I see," nodded Penny. "I'm very sorry to have troubled you."
"A natural mistake, my child. Is there anything else you wish to know? We
have no secrets here--only serene faith and hope for a better world."
"I might inquire your name."
"Members of my flock call me Father Benedict. My baptismal name is Jay
Highland. And yours?"
"Penny Parker. My father owns the _Riverview Star_."
"A newspaper?" The monk's inquiry was sharp.
"One of the best in the city," Penny said proudly.
"Your father sent you here, perhaps?"
"Oh, no! I was just passing by and noticed the buildings were occupied."
"To be sure," murmured the monk. "I trust you will use discretion in
mentioning our work here. Should we become too well known, a path will be
beaten to our door, and the privacy of our order will be no more."
"I'll scarcely mention it," Penny half-heartedly promised. "Good night."
Retreating through the gate, she closed it behind her.
A few paces away, Louise, who had heard only part of the conversation,
waited in the darkness.
"Who were those men?" she demanded, falling into step with her chum.
"What did you learn?"
Penny repeated everything Jay Highland had told her.
"He seemed rather nice," she added. "But when you sum it up, he didn't
tell much about the order he is founding here."
"And the scream?"
"Oh, he explained that. It seems an old woman named Julia lives in the
institution. She's demented."
"Must be a nice place!" The girls now had reached the car and Louise
stood aside for her chum to unlock the door. Quickly they stowed their
skis and poles in the rear and then Penny started the motor which popped
and sputtered in the frosty air.
"It's snowing again," she observed, switching on the windshield wiper.
"We didn't get started a minute too soon."
Before the girls had traveled a quarter of a mile, huge, wet flakes
pelted the glass. Once as the wiper stuck, Penny had to get out and clear
the windshield with a handkerchief.
"This is really getting awful!" she exclaimed, as they drove slowly on
along the narrow, curving country road. "I can hardly see."
"Be careful," Louise warned a moment later. "You're close to the ditch."
Penny brought the wheels back onto the main track. But a dozen yards
farther on, she saw directly in her path, a bent figure struggling along
under the weight of a heavy suitcase. Her head was held low against the
wind and snow.
Unaware of the approaching car, the pedestrian was walking almost in the
center of the road.
"Look out, Penny!" screamed Louise as she too saw the girl with the heavy
burden. "You'll run her down!"
CHAPTER
3
_STRANGER OF THE STORM_
Penny swerved the steering wheel, missing the girl by inches. Somewhat
shaken by the near-accident, she pulled up at the roadside.
"My, that was close!" exclaimed Louise. Lowering the side window of the
coupe, she gazed curiously at the snowy figure, plodding through the
drifts.
"Maybe we ought to offer her a lift to Riverview," said Penny. "Whoever
she is, she shouldn't be walking alone at this time of night--and with a
heavy suitcase too."
"But should we pick up a hitchhiker, Penny? It might not be safe."
"I don't like to do it as a rule, but this is different. It's storming
hard and she looks about our age."
Debating no longer, Penny thrust her head through the window opening and
called: "Want a ride?"
The girl with the suitcase had moved into the glare of the headlights.
She turned toward the car with a startled expression. Penny and Louise
saw that she was thinly clad in a light weight coat, and wore no
galoshes.
To their astonishment, the girl shook her head and kept on walking.
"Well, what do you know!" exclaimed Penny. "She's more afraid to ride
with us than we were to pick her up. She may not realize we're just a
couple of school girls."
"She shouldn't be out in this storm dressed as she is," declared Louise,
now concerned for the stranger. "Ask her again."
Penny shifted into low gear and pulled alongside. "Please, can't we give
you a lift into the city?" she urged.
The girl stopped then, resting her suitcase in the roadway. A breath of
wind swept a lock of dark hair across her thin face. Impatiently she
brushed it aside and murmured: "No, no, thank you."
Penny would have driven on, but the voice held a hint of tears. It
occurred to her that the girl might be running away from home--certainly
she was bewildered and in trouble.
"Don't be foolish!" she exclaimed. "This snow is coming down heavier
every minute. Of course, you want a ride." She flung the car door wide
open.
A moment longer the girl hesitated. Then without a word, she swung the
suitcase into the automobile and squeezed in beside Louise. However, she
scarcely glanced at the girls, but centered her sober gaze on the
snowflakes which danced across the windshield.
The car moved ahead. "Going far?" inquired Penny.
"I--I don't know."
"You don't know!" Penny twisted her head sideways to stare at the girl.
She started to ask a question, then thinking better of it, remained
silent.
Louise, however, could not allow the odd reply to pass unchallenged.
"Why, you must know where you're going!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean you
have no home, or are running away?"
"I have a home," the girl replied shortly. "I only meant I haven't
decided where I'll go or what I'll do when I reach Riverview. That's the
name of the closest place, isn't it?"
Penny nodded. "Apparently, you come from some distance away," she
remarked.
The girl made no reply.
"May we introduce ourselves?" said Louise, determined to learn the
stranger's name. "This is Penny Parker, and I'm Louise Sidell."
Only by a brief nod did the girl acknowledge the introduction. She did
not volunteer her own name. Her failure to do so, obviously was
deliberate.
"Do you live near here?" Louise inquired.
The stranger squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't feel
like answering questions. That's why I didn't want to accept a ride."
Louise took the reply for a rebuke. "I certainly didn't mean to be
personal," she returned stiffly. "Excuse it, please. Dreadful weather!"
The topic fell flat. No further attempt at conversation was made.
Penny kept close watch of the road, for the heavy, wet snow made
visibility very poor. She was greatly relieved when they reached the
outskirts of the city and a wide boulevard which followed the curve of
the frozen river.
Seeing the lights of Riverview, the strange girl began to watch the
streets intently.
"Just let me out anywhere," she said presently.
"Anywhere?" Penny repeated.
"Will we pass the river docks on this road?"
"Yes, at the next turn."
"Then let me off there, please."
"The river docks!" exclaimed Louise. "At this time of night? No boats are
running and there are no houses or business places close by. Only
deserted fish houses and the like."
"Please, that's where I want to get off."
Penny and Louise gave up trying to figure out their strange passenger. At
the next turn in the road, they pulled up near a dimly lighted street
corner.
The girl opened the car door and reached for her suitcase.
"Thanks for the ride," she said in a low voice. "I'm sorry if I seemed
rude and unfriendly. There are things I can't explain."
Before Penny or Louise could answer, the car door closed firmly in their
faces.
"Well, how do you like that?" the latter demanded furiously. "If she
isn't a cool cucumber!"
"She may be running away from home," Penny said, frowning. "Why
otherwise, would she refuse to tell her name?"
"And why did she insist in getting out on this corner, of all places?"
"It's a bad section of town, Louise. No one seems to be about, but even
so, a girl shouldn't be wandering around here alone."
"We tried to warn her. She seemed to know what she wanted to do."
"All the same, I feel sort of responsible," Penny returned uneasily. "I
hope nothing happens to her."
After leaving the car, the girl walked toward the river. Now at the
corner, she paused beneath a street light, and glanced back.
"She's waiting for us to go on!" Penny guessed shrewdly. "For some
reason, she doesn't want anyone to know where she's going!"
"Then let's wait and watch!"
"We'll learn nothing that way. She can tell we're keeping our eye on
her." Penny threw in the clutch and the car rolled away from the curb.
"Tell you what, Lou! We'll drive around the block."
"Good idea!" approved her chum. "That way she'll think we've gone and we
can see where she really goes."
Penny turned at the first corner and made a quick trip around the block.
As they again came within view of the ice-locked river, the girls looked
quickly up and down the street for a glimpse of their former passenger.
"There she is!" Louise cried. "Why, she's walking straight to the docks!"
The two girls now were completely mystified and not a little worried. At
this late hour, the waterfront was deserted.
Penny watched the retreating figure for a moment, and then swung the car
door open.
"That girl can't know what she's doing!" she decided. "I'm going after
her!"
"For our pains, we may be told to mind our own affairs."
"That's beside the point, Lou. Something's wrong."
Without taking time to lock the car, the two girls hurried down the dark
street toward the docks. Far ahead they could see the one they pursued
walking swiftly. Then in the blinding, whirling snow, they lost sight of
her.
Reaching the waterfront, Penny and Louise gazed about in disbelief and
bewilderment. The girl had vanished.
"Now where could she have gone--" Penny murmured, only to break off as
her gaze fell upon a trail of footsteps.
The prints led along the dock for a short distance, only to end at the
river's edge.
CHAPTER
4
_VANISHING FOOTPRINTS_
"That crazy girl must have jumped off here!" Louise exclaimed, as she too
saw the footprints on the snowy planks.
"The river is solid ice--at least six inches thick," Penny pointed out.
"She couldn't have crashed through."
"Then where did she go?"
Far upstream toward the Main Street Bridge, an iceboat could be seen
tacking back and forth. Otherwise, the river was a gleaming ribbon of
deserted ice.
"The only place she could have gone is under the dock," Penny said, her
eyebrows knitting into a puzzled frown.
"_Under_ it?"
"That's what she must have done," Penny insisted. "I suppose the planking
would give some protection from the storm."
The snow was coming down harder now than ever, in huge flakes. Trailing
the footprints to the dock's edge, Penny flattened herself on the planks
and peered over the side.
"I can't see a thing!" she complained. "Dark as pitch!"
"Listen!" commanded Louise.
Both girls became quiet. Distinctly they could hear a faint creak of snow
as someone walked beneath the dock, a long distance away.
"Hello, down there!" shouted Penny.
The creaking sound ceased. But no one answered the call.
"If she's down there, she'll never answer!" Louise said, thoroughly
disgusted. "Should we go after her?"
Penny was sorely tempted. She studied the long, high dock only to shake
her head.
"If once we get down there, we couldn't climb up again without walking a
long distance, Lou."
"Then what should we do?"
"Let's call the police station," Penny urged. Scrambling to her feet, she
brushed snow from her ski suit. "This is a case for them to investigate."
"That's what I think," agreed Louise, greatly relieved. "I know my
parents wouldn't want me prowling under the docks at night."
Pelted by fast falling snow, the two friends returned to the parked car
and then drove to a drugstore several blocks away. Penny telephoned
Central Police Station, only to be informed a car could not be sent to
the river for a few minutes. Heavy snow had snarled traffic, causing many
accidents and tying up police personnel.
For twenty minutes the girls waited patiently in their car, but no one
came to investigate. At last, giving up in disgust, they drove to their
homes.
Try as she would, Penny could not forget the strange girl with the
suitcase who had been so unwilling to answer questions. Who was she? And
why had she taken refuge beneath the river docks?
She longed to talk the matter over with her father, but Mr. Parker had
gone to bed early.
Penny kept thinking about the matter until she fell asleep and it was
foremost in her thoughts when she awoke in the morning.
"Wonder if the _Riverview Star_ carried any mention of a police
investigation at the river?" she mused.
Dressing rapidly, she ran downstairs to bring the morning paper in from
the porch. Eagerly she scanned the pages.
"Not a single word here!" she exclaimed in disappointment. "Maybe the
police didn't even bother to search the dock area."
To make certain, she telephoned Captain Brownell, a personal friend at
Central Station. The officer explained that a police car had been
dispatched to the river shortly after one o'clock. Footprints noted
earlier by the two girls, had been blotted out by falling snow. No one
had been found loitering in the area.
"Well, that's that," sighed Penny, turning away from the telephone. "I
wish now, Lou and I had taken a chance and prowled under the dock."
From the breakfast alcove, Anthony Parker, a tall, lean man with iron
gray hair and intelligent eyes, regarded his daughter in amusement.
"Talking to yourself again, Penny?" he teased.
"I am!" Penny slid into a chair beside her father and reached for a tall
glass of orange juice. "The things I'm thinking about the police
department aren't complimentary either! What this town needs is a larger
force and at least a dozen extra patrol cars!"
"You could find plenty of work for them, I judge."
"Couldn't I? A nice situation when police are too busy to investigate an
important call promptly!"
"So they gave you the run-around," teased Mr. Parker. "Suppose you tell
me what happened."
Starting at the very beginning, Penny told of hearing the strange cry at
the old monastery and later, the meeting with the unfriendly girl who had
disappeared near the river docks.
While she related her odd experiences, Mrs. Maud Weems, the family
housekeeper, came in bearing a platter of scrambled eggs. Since the death
of Penny's mother, the woman had cared for the girl as her own daughter.
She listened attentively to the tale of adventure, and with obvious
disapproval.
"In my opinion, that's what comes of midnight skiing parties!" she
interrupted the story. "I hope you stay away from Knob Hill and the
monastery after this."
"Oh, Mrs. Weems!" Penny's elfin face lost a little of its excited glow.
"This wonderful skiing weather can't last many days! I simply must go
back there!"
"To ski or to investigate the monastery?" asked the housekeeper. "If I
know the signs, you're hot on the trail of another mystery!"
"Naturally I want to learn more about that strange cult," grinned Penny.
"Who knows, I might track down a bang-up story for Dad's paper!"
"Skiing always seemed a wholesome sport to me," interposed Mr. Parker,
winking slyly at his daughter. "Of course, I don't approve of late
hours."
Mrs. Weems sighed as she set the egg platter down hard on the table. "You
two always conspire against me!" she accused.
"Why, Mrs. Weems!" Penny observed innocently. "Don't you approve of
skiing?"
"Skiing is only an excuse and you know it, Penelope Parker! Oh, dear, I
try so hard to raise you properly."
"And you're doing a magnificent job, if I do say so myself," chuckled
Penny. "Don't give the matter any further thought!"
"Penny always has proven she uses her head and knows how to take care of
herself," added Mr. Parker. "An inquisitive mind is an asset--especially
in the newspaper business."
With an injured sniff, Mrs. Weems retreated to the kitchen to wash the
dishes.
Alone with her father, Penny grinned at him affectionately. His defense
of her conduct meant only one thing! He did not disapprove of her
interest in the monastery at Knob Hill.
"He's giving me the 'go' signal!" she thought jubilantly. Aloud she said.
"Dad, don't you think Jay Highland and the monastery might be worth a
feature story in the _Riverview Star_?"
"Possibly," he agreed, getting up from the table. "Well, I must move
along to the office."
A little disappointed because her father had brushed the subject aside so
lightly, Penny spent the morning helping Mrs. Weems with household tasks.
However, directly after luncheon she packed her skis and prepared to set
off for Knob Hill.
Unwilling to go alone, Penny stopped at the Sidell home. To her
disappointment, Louise had gone shopping and was not expected back for
several hours.
"Maybe I can induce Dad to go with me!" she thought. "He spends entirely
too much time indoors. An outing will do him good!"
At the _Star_ plant in the heart of downtown Riverview, Penny wandered
through a nearly deserted editorial room to her father's office. For a
morning paper the hour was early, and few reporters had as yet unhooded
their typewriters.
Through the glass door Penny observed that her father had a visitor, a
middle-aged, intelligent looking man she had never seen before. She would
have slipped away had her father not motioned for her to enter.
"Penny, this is James Ayling, an investigator for the Barnes Mutual
Insurance Co.," he said. "My daughter, Mr. Ayling."
The visitor arose to grasp the girl's hand firmly.
"Mr. Ayling is from Boston," explained the newspaper owner. He turned to
the investigator. "Do you mind if I tell my daughter why you are here?"
"Not at all."
"Mr. Ayling is trying to locate an elderly woman whose family jewels are
heavily insured with his company."
"Mrs. Hawthorne isn't actually our client," explained Mr. Ayling.
"Originally, old Nathaniel Hawthorne, her late husband, insured a
$100,000 star sapphire with us. The policy remains in effect until the
gem becomes the possession of a granddaughter, Rhoda."
"Who has the sapphire now?" asked Penny, slightly puzzled.
"Mr. Hawthorne's will allows his wife the use of it during her lifetime.
Upon her death it passes to the sixteen-year-old granddaughter, Rhoda
Hawthorne."
"And you are searching for Mrs. Hawthorne now?" Penny inquired politely.
"Yes, so far as we know Mrs. Hawthorne has the gem. We are afraid it may
be stolen from her or that she will dispose of it for a trifling sum.
Mrs. Hawthorne hasn't been well and in her present state of mind she
might act very foolishly."
"Tell Penny about the gem's history," suggested Mr. Parker.
"Oh, yes! The sapphire once was set in a necklace worn by a king who met
violent death. Since then, there is a superstition that bad luck pursues
the owner.
"The gem passed through many hands. Three times it was stolen. Several
owners died strange or violent deaths."
"Not Mr. Hawthorne?"
"Well, he fell from a cliff while touring the West," explained the
investigator. "Of course it was an accident, but Mrs. Hawthorne
unfortunately became convinced his death resulted from ownership of the
sapphire.
"She pleaded that the gem be sold for what it would bring, fearing that
harm would come upon her grandchild when eventually the sapphire is
turned over to her. According to terms of the will, the gem cannot be
sold, and our firm must remain responsible for it in case of theft or
loss."
"Mrs. Hawthorne still has the gem then?"
"We hope so," Mr. Ayling replied. "She went South on a vacation trip with
her granddaughter, taking the sapphire with her. That was over a month
ago. Nothing since has been heard from them."
"But what brings you to Riverview?" questioned Penny.
"I went South searching for Mrs. Hawthorne. At Miami only a week ago she
bought two tickets for Riverview. From that point on, I've been unable to
trace her."
"Does she have relatives or friends here?"
"Not so far as I've been able to learn. Perhaps our company is unduly
concerned, but the truth is, Mrs. Hawthorne is a very foolish, gullible
woman. Should she dispose of or lose the gem, our firm must pay a large
sum of money."
"We'll be glad to run a picture of Mrs. Hawthorne in the paper," offered
Mr. Parker. "If she has arrived in Riverview, someone will have seen
her."
"I certainly appreciate your interest," said Mr. Ayling. "Unfortunately,
I have no photograph of Mrs. Hawthorne with me. I'll wire my office
tonight for one."
"In the meantime, we'll run a little story," the publisher promised. "No
doubt you can describe the woman."
"Oh, yes, in a general way. She's 68 years of age and walks with a cane.
Her hair is white and she weighs about 150 pounds. She's deeply
interested in art. Also in spiritualism and mystic cults, I regret to
add."
"Mystic cults!" Penny's blue eyes began to dance with interest. She knew
now why her father had made a point of calling her in to meet the
investigator.
"Mrs. Hawthorne is very gullible and easily influenced. Since her husband
died, she has been prey for one sharper after another. I judge a third of
her fortune already has been squandered."
After a thoughtful pause, Penny hesitantly asked Mr. Ayling if he thought
it possible Mrs. Hawthorne could have come to Riverview to join a cult.
"That's what I'm here to find out. Mrs. Hawthorne and her granddaughter
have not registered at any of the leading hotels. Yet I know they came to
the city."
"Have you tried the monastery at Knob Hill?" Penny suggested. "A new
society has been established there in the last few days. I don't know
much about the order yet, but its members are supposed to dedicate
themselves to a life of charity and poverty."
"Why, that's exactly the sort of thing to attract Mrs. Hawthorne--for a
few weeks," the investigator replied. "Then after the novelty wore off,
she would flit on to something else. Where is this place?"
"I plan to drive out there in a few minutes," Penny told him eagerly.
"Why not come with me, Mr. Ayling?"
The investigator glanced inquiringly at Mr. Parker.
"Go ahead if you think it's worth while," urged the publisher.
"I suppose the chance of finding Mrs. Hawthorne there is very remote,"
Mr. Ayling said, thinking aloud. "But I can't afford to overlook any
possibility. Thanks, Miss Parker, I'll gladly accept your invitation."
"Want to come along, Dad?" Penny asked.
"No thanks," he declined. "I'm certain you'll be in good hands. Just let
Mr. Ayling take the lead in any investigation."
"Why, Dad!" Penny protested. "You know me."
"I do, indeed," said Mr. Parker, smiling as he resumed his desk work.
"That's why I feel confident Mr. Ayling may look forward to a very
interesting afternoon."
CHAPTER
5
_A CRYSTAL BALL_
Pine trees and bushes hung in frozen arches along the winding road which
led to the ancient monastery.
Parking the automobile near the iron boundary fence, Penny was quick to
note that the big ornamental gate now was locked and securely fastened
with chain and padlock.
"Are you sure this place is occupied?" Mr. Ayling asked as he alighted
and followed Penny to the gate. "Why, the property is a wreck!"
"The gate was unlocked last night," the girl replied. "We may have
trouble getting inside."
Pressing her face against the rusty iron spikes, she gazed hopefully
toward the gatehouse. The door was slightly ajar. Winkey, however, was
nowhere to be seen.
Mr. Ayling rattled the gate chain several times.
"No one seems to be around," he said in disappointment.
"Yes, there is!" Penny corrected.
Just then she caught a fleeting glimpse of a face at the tiny circular
window of the gatehouse. She was convinced it was Winkey, who for some
reason, intended to ignore their presence at the gate.
"Let us in!" she called.
"Open up!" shouted Mr. Ayling.
Still there was no rustle of life from the gatehouse.
"Disgusting!" Penny muttered. "I know Winkey is watching us! He's only
being contrary!"
Mr. Ayling's angular jaw tightened. "In that case," he said, "we'll have
to get in the best way we can. I'll climb over the fence."
The words purposely were spoken loudly enough to be overheard in the
gatehouse. Before the investigator could carry out his threat, the door
of the circular, stone building swung back. Winkey, the hunchback,
sauntered leisurely out.
"Want somethin'?" he inquired.
"Didn't you hear us trying to get in?" Mr. Ayling demanded.
"Sure," the hunchback shrugged, "but I was busy fixin' the bell that
connects with the house. Anyhow, visitors ain't wanted here."
"So we observe," said Mr. Ayling. "Where is your master?"
"Inside."
"Then announce us," the investigator ordered. "We're here to ask a few
questions."
Winkey's bird-like eyes blinked rapidly. He looked as if about to argue,
then changed his mind.
"Go on to the house then," he said crossly. "I'll let 'em know by phone
you're comin'."
The driveway curled through a large outer courtyard where a cluster of
small and interesting buildings stood in various stages of ruin.
Near the gatehouse was the almonry, a shelter used in very early days to
house visitors who sought free lodging.
Beyond were the ancient brewhouse, bakehouse, and granary. The latter two
buildings now were little more than heaps of fallen brick. None of the
structures was habitable.
In far better state of preservation was the central building with gabled
roof and tall hooded chimneys. However, front steps long since had fallen
away from the entrance doorway. Bridging the gap was a short ladder.
"What a place!" commented Mr. Ayling offering Penny his hand to help her
across. "Looks as if it might cave in any day."
The visitors found themselves facing a weather-beaten but beautifully
carved wooden doorway. Before they could knock, it opened on squeaky
hinges.
A woman with heavily lined face, who wore a gray gown and white lace cap,
peered out at them.
"Go away!" she murmured in a stage whisper. "Go quickly!"
"Julia!" said a voice directly behind her.
The woman whirled around and cringed as a brown-robed monk took her
firmly by the arm.
"Go and light a fire in the parlor, Julia," her master directed. "I will
greet our guests."
"Yes, Father Benedict," the woman muttered, scurrying away.
The master now turned apologetically to the visitors.
"I trust my servant was not rude," he said. "Poor creature! Her twisted
mind causes her to believe that all persons who do not dwell within our
walls are evil and to be feared."
As the monk spoke, he smiled in a kindly, friendly way, yet his keen eyes
were appraising the two visitors. Though it was cold and windy on the
door step, he did not hasten to invite Penny and Mr. Ayling inside. He
stood holding the half-opened door in his hand.
"You must excuse our lack of hospitality," he said, fingering a gold
chain which hung from his thin shoulders. "We have much cleaning and
remodeling to do before we are ready to receive visitors."
Mr. Ayling explained that his call was one of business, adding that he
represented the Barnes Mutual Insurance Co.
"Such matters must be discussed with me later," the monk said, slowly but
firmly closing the door.
"I'm not selling insurance," Mr. Ayling assured him. Deliberately he
leaned against the jamb, preventing the monk from shutting the door.
Father Benedict bit his lip in annoyance. "May I inquire your business
with me?" he asked frostily.
"I'm seeking to trace a client--Mrs. Nathaniel Hawthorne."
"I know of no such person. Deeply I regret that I cannot help you, sir.
If you will excuse me--"
"The woman may have used an assumed name," Mr. Ayling cut in. "She has a
weakness--er, I mean a liking for cult practices."
"You are suggesting this woman may have joined my little flock?"
"That's the general idea."
"Absurd!" The monk's gaze rested briefly on Penny as he added: "I greatly
fear you have been led astray by loose gossip as to the nature of the
order I am founding here."
"I told Mr. Ayling about your work because I think it's so interesting,"
Penny said quickly. She slapped her mittened hands together. "My, it's
cold today! May we warm ourselves at your fire before we start back to
town?"
A frown puckered Father Benedict's eyebrows. Plainly the request
displeased him. But with a show of hospitality, he said:
"Our abode is very humble and poorly furnished. Such as it is, you are
welcome." Bowing slightly, he stepped aside to admit the visitors.
Penny and Mr. Ayling found themselves in a long, barren, and very cold
hallway.
"Follow me, please," bade the monk.
Moving on the bare boards with noiseless tread, he led them through an
arched doorway cut in the thick wall, across a wind-swept pillared
cloister and into a parlor where a fire burned brightly in a huge,
time-blackened fireplace.
The sheer comfort of the room surprised Penny. Underfoot was a thick
velvet carpet. Other furnishings included a large mahogany desk, a sofa,
two easy chairs, and a cabinet filled with fine glassware, gold and
silver objects, and a blue glass decanter of wine.
Black velvet curtains were draped in heavy folds over an exit door, and
similar hangings covered the windows. To Penny's astonishment, the
ceiling, painted black, was studded with silver stars.
However, the object which held her roving gaze was a large crystal ball
supported on the claws of a bronze dragon.
"You are a crystal gazer!" Mr. Ayling exclaimed as he too noted the
curious globe.
"I have the power to read the future with reasonable accuracy," replied
the monk. He dismissed the subject with a shrug, motioning for his guests
to seat themselves before the fire.
"You spoke of searching for a Mrs. Rosenthorne--" he remarked, addressing
the investigator.
"Mrs. Hawthorne," corrected Mr. Ayling.
"To be sure, Mrs. Hawthorne. Apparently you were under the
misapprehension that she is in some way connected with this
establishment."
"It was only a hope. My client has a deep interest in cults. I traced
Mrs. Hawthorne and her granddaughter to Riverview, and thought possibly
they might have been attracted to your place."
"My little flock is limited to only twelve members at present. All are
very humble people who have sworn to live a life of poverty, devoted to
charity and faith. We have no Mrs. Hawthorne here."
"Mightn't she have given another name?" suggested Penny. She stretched
her cold fingers to the leaping flames on the hearth.
"I hardly think so." Father Benedict's lips curled in a superior smile.
"Describe the woman, please."
Mr. Ayling repeated the description Penny had heard earlier that
afternoon.
"We have no such person here," the monk said. "I regret I am unable to
help you."
He arose, a plain hint that he considered the brief interview at an end.
Somewhat reluctantly, Penny and her companion also turned their backs
upon the crackling fire.
"You have made a comfortable place of this room," the girl said. Her gaze
fastened admiringly upon a porcelain decanter in a wall cabinet. "And
such interesting antiques!"
For the first time since the visitors had arrived, Father Benedict's eyes
sparkled with warmth.
"Collecting art treasures is a hobby of mine," he revealed. Crossing to
the cabinet, he removed the decanter.
"This is a piece of Ching-Hoa porcelain and very rare," he said. "And
here is a Byzantine amulet--priceless. The golden goblets came from a
European church destroyed a century ago."
"You're not afraid to keep such treasures in the monastery?" Mr. Ayling
inquired.
"Afraid?" Father Benedict's dark eyes glittered with a strange light. "I
must confess I know not the meaning of the word."
"You are so far out, I don't suppose you can expect much police
protection," Mr. Ayling added.
"Winkey, my gateman, is quite dependable. While he is on duty, no thief
or unwanted stranger will enter our grounds."
"Winkey is good at keeping folks out," agreed the investigator dryly. In
walking toward the door, he paused to gaze again at the crystal ball.
"My glass interests you?" inquired the monk.
"I've seen those things before, but never took stock in them," rejoined
Mr. Ayling. "One can't actually conjure up pictures by gazing into that
globe?"
"Would you care to see for yourself?"
"Well, it's a little out of my line," Mr. Ayling laughed.
"I'd like to try it!" cried Penny. "May I?"
"Certainly. The principle is very simple. One merely gazes deeply into
the glass until the optic nerve of the eye becomes fatigued. As it ceases
to transmit impression from without, one sees events of the future."
"I've heard it explained a little differently," said Mr. Ayling. "As the
optic nerve becomes paralyzed, it responds to the reflex action
proceeding from the brain of the crystal gazer. One sees what one wishes
to see."
"I do not agree!" Father Benedict's voice was sharp. "The ball accurately
foretells the future. Shall we test and prove its powers?"
"Let me try it!" pleaded Penny again.
Smiling a bit grimly, the monk extinguished an overhead light and touched
a match to the wick of two tall white candles.
Placing the crystal ball in front of a black screen, he set the burning
tapers at either side. Penny suddenly began to lose zest for the
adventure.