Part 6

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.

"There must be some way to see that ceremony!" she reasoned. "Perhaps I can slip in through a rear door."

Penny circled the building, taking care to avoid snow patches where revealing footprints would be left behind. She crossed through the old church-yard with its toppled, weather-stained stones, passing close along the church wall.

Coming to a small arching door, she tried the knob.

"Locked!" she muttered in disgust. "One would think this place were a jail!"

Half way around the building Penny found another door which evidently opened into the kitchen. It too was locked.

"I'm out of luck!" she decided, losing heart.

As she turned away intending to return to her car, she noticed a window at shoulder level, opening from a kitchen wall. A ventilator screen had been inserted to permit free circulation of outside air.

Penny carefully studied the window. A crack between the screen and window frame encouraged her to hope that the mesh might be removed.

Obviously, the plan had disadvantages. In removing the screen, she might make too much noise and be detected.

Furthermore, a wide patch of snow separated her from the window. She could not reach the wall without leaving a trail of telltale footprints.

Then an idea flashed into Penny's mind. How easy it would be to make deceptive prints in the snow merely by walking _backwards_!

"If Father Benedict discovers my shoetracks, he'll think someone from inside the building crawled out the window!" she chuckled. "At least I hope he will!"

Now completely dedicated to the adventure, the girl carefully backed toward the window. She took each step slowly to make a distinct print.

Reaching the window, she tried the ventilator screen. To her delight, it folded like an accordian when she pushed one side against the edge of the window. Making no sound, she removed it.

Listening a moment to make certain no one was close by, Penny raised the window higher. Then on strong arms she swung herself up and over the ledge.

The girl found herself in a large kitchen lighted only by a smoldering log in a great cavern of a fireplace.

Rows of copper pans hung on the smoke-stained walls. In a huge black kettle, watery soup simmered over the fire.

Penny turned to close the window and stepped squarely on the tail of a drowsing cat.

"Ye-eow!" screeched the frightened animal.

Penny huddled against the wall, listening. Her heart sank as she heard heavy footsteps in the passageway. The howling cat had brought someone to investigate!

Frantically, the girl glanced about the room. Huge cupboards which rose from the floor to the ceiling offered the only possible hiding place in the otherwise barren kitchen.

Pulling open one of the doors, she saw an interior cluttered with greasy pans and dishes. With desperate haste, she tried the adjoining door. This cupboard was empty except for a few dusty newspapers.

Penny stepped inside, softly closing the door. Only then, as she heard someone enter the kitchen, did she realize that in her haste to hide, she had forgotten to close the window.

CHAPTER 16 _THE KITCHEN CUPBOARD_

Into the kitchen lumbered Old Julia. She picked up the whimpering cat and began to croon endearments.

Penny breathed easier. The next instant she became tense again as she heard another person enter the room.

"What was that noise, Julia?" a man demanded harshly.

Penny recognized Father Benedict's voice.

"Only the cat, Father."

"Why is the room so cold? Oh, I see! Against my orders you opened the window again!"

"No, I didn't!" Old Julia defended herself. "I hain't been near a door or window since you told me not to talk to nobody nor let 'em in. I don't talk to nobody--only Patsy, the cat. Nice Patsy!"

"You're a stupid old woman! What made the cat howl?"

"I dunno. She must've seen a mouse."

"Cats don't howl unless they are hurt! You opened the window!"

"No! No! I didn't!" the old woman cried. "Don't strike me! I'm telling you the truth."

Penny heard the monk walk to the window. Her heart skipped a beat when he said: "Perhaps you are, Julia! I can see footprints in the snow! Someone crawled out through this window! You helped that girl get away!"

"I didn't! I didn't!" whimpered Julia. "I dunno how the window got open."

The monk seemed to be talking to himself as he went on: "I knew that girl would make trouble the minute I set eyes on her! If it hadn't been for her interference, everything would have gone just as planned! Now she'll have to pay for her folly!"

For a moment Penny thought Father Benedict was speaking of her. Then it came to her that he must be referring to the dark-haired girl she had seen briefly on the day of her first visit to the monastery.

"This isn't the only time she's slipped out of here!" the monk went on angrily. "But it will be the last!"

Father Benedict rang a bell. While waiting for it to be answered, he slammed down the kitchen window.

Soon Winkey, the hunchback, appeared. "You called me, boss?" he inquired.

"I did," said the monk. "And kindly remember not to call me 'boss.' Father Benedict is a more respectful term."

"That's a laugh," rejoined Winkey rudely. "What did you call me for?"

"Look out the window and see for yourself."

"Footprints!"

"Going away from the monastery," Father Benedict added. "That girl has run off again! This time when she gets back, see that she is punished."

The command seemed to startle the gateman for he asked dubiously: "You don't mean--"

"I do." The monk's words dropped like chips of steel. "The usual punishment."

"But ain't it a little harsh for a girl? She's only a kid--"

"Only a kid!" Father Benedict's voice rose in mockery. "From the hour we came here she has been a thorn in my side. If it hadn't been for her interference, we would have been away from here yesterday!"

"Okay, if those are your orders. Are you sure the girl has skipped?"

"Certainly I am. I found the window open, and there are the footprints in the snow!"

"Maybe she won't be back."

"She will," Father Benedict said grimly. "You see, so long as we have her--"

He broke off to listen intently. From the direction of the cloister a silver bell had chimed.

"The signal for the processional!" Father Benedict exclaimed, interrupting himself. "I must go!"

In the doorway he apparently paused, for Penny heard him say to Julia:

"Start dishing up the soup ready to serve as soon as the ceremony is over! A bowl and four crackers to each person!"

"Is that all they're getting to eat?" Winkey inquired. "We're in for a lot of squawks!"

"You forget that the members of our sect have taken a vow of poverty and abstinence," retorted the monk with heavy sarcasm. "If there are any complaints, I know how to handle them."

"You sure do," agreed Winkey, his laughter crackling. "I'll hand you the gold plated medal for that!"

Voices of the two men died away, informing Penny that they had gone. As she huddled in the cramped quarters, she could hear Julia moving about the kitchen. The woman sighed heavily and once muttered: "Woe is me! Wisht I was dead, I do!"

Minutes elapsed and the girl became increasingly uncomfortable and impatient. Old Julia showed no inclination to leave the kitchen.

"I've got to get out of here or I'll miss the entire ceremony!" Penny told herself. "Well, here goes! If Julia screams, I'm a cooked goose!"

Opening the cupboard door a tiny crack, she peered out.

Old Julia had lighted candles. In their flickering light she could be seen with her back to Penny, stirring the soup. On the table beside her were ten wooden bowls.

"It's now or never!" the girl thought. "Julia may give me away, but I'll have to chance it!"

Opening the door wider, she moved noiselessly out and glided across the floor. A board creaked. But as Julia turned her head, Penny reached out and covered her mouth with her hand.

Seeing her, the old woman's eyes dilated with fear, but she could not speak.

"Don't try to scream! Don't say a word!" Penny warned. "I won't hurt you! I'm here to help you."

The old woman tried to break from the girl's grasp. Penny kept talking to her in a soothing tone until gradually she relaxed.

"Will you keep quiet if I release you?" she finally demanded.

The old woman's head bobbed up and down.

Penny removed her hand, expecting the worst. But Julia did not scream. Instead, she stared fixedly at the girl.

"Julia, I must see the ceremony, and Father Benedict isn't to know I am here," Penny whispered. "Will you keep my secret?"