Part 2

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."