Part 8

To her great relief, the woman replied that she had taken part in the cult ceremony and then had supped in the refectory.

"I knew that before, stupid!" Father Benedict shouted. "The girl must still be in the building. I'll find her, and when I do--"

Waiting to hear no more, Penny retreated to the cloister. All candles had been blown out and it was very dark.

"I must get out of here now or never!" she thought. "Father Benedict will start looking for me and he'll probably order Winkey to watch the gates."

Starting hurriedly along the cloister, she heard approaching footsteps. Momentarily confused, she started up a short, steep stairway to a balcony overlooking the court.

Belatedly, Penny realized she had turned toward the dormitories.

Opening from the balcony was a bedroom door which stood partly ajar.

After listening for a moment, and hearing no movement inside, she cautiously tiptoed into the room.

"A window here may be unlocked," she thought. "If the drop to the ground isn't too far, maybe I can get out this way."

As Penny crossed the room, an elderly woman she had failed to see, suddenly sat up in bed.

"Rhoda, is that you?" she asked in a whining voice. "Why have you been gone so long? Oh, I've been so worried!"

Penny hesitated, then went over to the bed.

"I'm not Rhoda, but a friend of hers," she explained. "Do you mind if I crawl out through the window?"

"It's nailed down and there are bars," the elderly woman replied. "Oh, this is a horrible place! Rhoda tried to tell me. I wouldn't listen!"

Scarcely hearing, Penny ran to the window. As she pulled aside the dusty velvet draperies, she saw for herself that the window was guarded by ancient rusty bars. Everywhere escape seemed cut off!

Turning to the bed again, she observed with some alarm that the old lady had fallen back on her pillow. Moonlight flooding in through the diamond-shaped panes of glass accentuated her pallor.

"You're Mrs. Hawthorne, aren't you?" she inquired gently.

The woman nodded. She coughed several times and pulled the one thin coverlet closer about her.

"Where is Rhoda?" she asked. "Why doesn't she come to me?"

Penny could not tell her the truth--that her granddaughter had been locked in the chapel bedroom by Father Benedict. Nor could she express the fear that an even worse fate was in store for the girl unless help came quickly to the monastery.

As she groped for words, Mrs. Hawthorne suddenly gasped. Her face became convulsed and she writhed in bed.

"Oh, those stomach cramps!" she moaned. "They're starting again! Please--please, a doctor!"

Never had Penny felt so helpless as she watched the poor woman suffer. Mrs. Hawthorne's wrinkled face broke out in perspiration. She gripped the girl's hand with a pressure that was painful.

When the cramp had passed, she lay limp and exhausted.

"I'll get a doctor here as soon as I can," Penny promised. "Until then, perhaps a hot water bottle will help."

"There's no hot water in the place," Mrs. Hawthorne mumbled. "Oh, if I ever get away from here alive--"

"Sh!" Penny suddenly interrupted. She placed her fingertips on the woman's lips.

Heavy footsteps warned her that someone approached.

"It may be Father Benedict!" Penny whispered. "Whatever you do, don't give me away! I must hide!"

Frantically, she looked about for a safe place. The room had no closet.

"Under the bed," urged Mrs. Hawthorne.

Penny wriggled beneath it. Barely had she secreted herself, than Father Benedict stamped into the bedroom.

CHAPTER 20 _TRICKERY_

Lighting his way with a tall, flickering candle, Father Benedict walked directly to the bed where Mrs. Hawthorne lay.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired with a show of sympathy.

"Dreadful," the woman murmured. "I must have a doctor."

"Do you really believe that a doctor can help you, my good woman?"

The question startled Mrs. Hawthorne. She half-raised herself from the pillow to stare at the monk.

"Why, what do you mean?" she asked. "Surely a doctor can give me medicine to help these wretched pains. It is only a stomach disorder."

"My dear Mrs. Hawthorne, surely you must realize that your difficulty is not one that a man of medicine can cure."

"You don't mean I have a serious, incurable disease?" the woman gasped.

"You are indeed suffering from a most serious malady which may take your life," affirmed Father Benedict. "Is it not true that bad fortune has pursued every owner of the star sapphire?"

Mrs. Hawthorne remained silent.

"Is it not so?" prodded the monk. "Think back over the history of the gem. Even your husband met with misfortune."

"And now you believe my turn has come? Oh!"

"I dislike to distress you," resumed Father Benedict with malice, "but perhaps by warning you I may yet save your life. Tonight in the crystal globe I saw your face. A message came that you must dispose of the star sapphire immediately or you too will die!"

"I--I always have hated and feared the gem," Mrs. Hawthorne whispered, her lips trembling. "You are right. It has brought only misfortune upon our family."

"Then your way is clear. You must dispose of the sapphire at once--tonight."

"The gem is very valuable. You suggest that I give it to your society?"

"To our society," corrected the monk. "Once you have contributed the gem, you will become our most honored member."

"The gem was left to me in trust for my granddaughter."

"You told me yourself you desire that it never should fall into her hands."

"Only because I fear evil will befall her. I had planned to sell the gem and place the money in her name."

Father Benedict beat an impatient tattoo with his foot. "The curse would remain," he insisted. "Only by giving the gem to a worthy charity can evil be erased. For your own sake and that of your granddaughter, I beg of you, give us the sapphire."

"A few days ago, I might have considered it," said Mrs. Hawthorne peevishly. "Now I don't even like this place. It is too much on the order of a prison. The food is wretched! Tomorrow if I am stronger, I shall take my granddaughter and leave."

"Indeed?" Father Benedict sneered. "For you there will be no tomorrow. I have seen the face of a corpse in my glass!"

Penny knew that the words shocked Mrs. Hawthorne, for she heard her draw in her breath sharply. But the woman retorted with spirit:

"You cannot frighten me with your predictions! Rhoda insisted from the first that you are an imposter! She is right! You'll get no gem from me!"

"No?" Father Benedict's voice became mocking. "We shall see!"

Placing the candle on the floor close to the bed, he crossed the room to the old fashioned dresser. One by one, he began to paw through the drawers.

"Stop it!" cried Mrs. Hawthorne. "Don't dare touch my things!"

Father Benedict paid her not the slightest heed. Rapidly he emptied boxes and containers and tossed clothing in a heap on the floor.

With a supreme effort, Mrs. Hawthorne pulled herself from the bed. Staggering across the floor, she seized the man's arm.

Father Benedict pushed her backwards onto the bed.

"You are a cruel, heartless man!" Mrs. Hawthorne sobbed. The bed shook convulsively beneath her weight as she lay where Father Benedict had pushed her.

Penny was sorely tempted to go to the woman's assistance, but reason told her it would be sheer folly to betray her presence. Everything depended upon getting quickly and safely out of the monastery. If she failed, Father Benedict undoubtedly would escape, leaving them all locked in the building.

The monk now had finished searching the dresser and turned his attention to a suitcase. With professional skill and thoroughness, he ripped open the lining. Likewise, he explored every garment hem and pocket.

"To think that I ever trusted you!" Mrs. Hawthorne cried bitterly. "Oh, I see it all now! From the very first, you were after the sapphire!"

"And I have it too!" cried the man in triumph.

His sensitive, exploring fingers had come upon a small, hard object sewed into the hem of one of Mrs. Hawthorne's frocks.

"Don't you dare take the stone!" the woman screamed. "I'll have you arrested as a common thief!"

"You'll never get out of this room," chuckled the monk. "I intend to lock you in!"

The boast threw Penny into a panic. Not for an instant did she doubt that Father Benedict would carry out his threat. If he locked Mrs. Hawthorne in, she too would be a prisoner!

Penny had no time to plan strategy or reason out the best course. Already, Father Benedict had removed the gem from the hem of the garment.

Before he could examine it, or move toward the door, Penny, with a mighty "whoosh" blew out the candle.

Scrambling from beneath the bed, she darted to the door.

Taken by surprise, Father Benedict was too slow to intercept her. She slammed the door in his face, groping frantically for a key.

Finding none, she knew the monk must have the only one on his person.

"The fat's in the fire now for sure!" she thought in panic.

Penny raced across the balcony and down the stone steps to the cloister. In this emergency the pillars, though shadowed, offered no protection whatsoever. Nor was the dry fountain bed a safe place in which to hide.

Pounding footsteps warned that there was no time in which to search for a hideout. The only possible place was under an old tarpaulin which lay in a heap on the tiles beside the fountain.

Wriggling beneath the canvas, Penny pulled the folds over her head.

Barely had she flattened herself on the floor than Father Benedict pounded into the cloister. So close did he pass to where she lay, that Penny could hear his heavy breathing.

"Now where did that brat go?" he muttered. "She's here somewhere!"

The monk rang a bell which brought Winkey on the run.

"I've looked everywhere for that Parker girl," he reported before the master could speak. "She must have got away."

"Fool!" rasped the monk. "She has been hiding in Mrs. Hawthorne's room! She saw me take the sapphire!"

"You mean you got the gem, boss?"

"Here in my hand. Hold your lantern closer and see for yourself."

A long pause followed. Penny guessed that the two men were inspecting the gem beneath a light. She was unprepared for the next explosive comment of Father Benedict.

"I've been tricked!" he muttered. "This isn't the sapphire Mrs. Hawthorne showed me in Florida! It's only a cheap imitation!"

"Maybe that girl sneaked in and took it herself!"

"If she did it will be the worse for her! I know Mrs. Hawthorne brought a genuine sapphire into this house. Either her granddaughter has it, or this Parker pest!"

"What'll we do, boss?"

"We're leaving here as quickly as we can get away," Father Benedict said decisively. "We've over-played our hand and our luck has run out."

"You mean we're going without the sapphire?" grumbled Winkey. "After all our work?"

"We'll get the sapphire. First, we must make certain that Parker girl doesn't slip out of the building."

"I let the dogs loose in the yard. And the windows and doors are all locked. If she tries to get out, they'll set up a yip."

"Good! She must be somewhere in the house and we'll soon find her."

"How much did she learn, boss?"

"I don't know, but enough to jail us both! Go to my study and destroy all the papers you find there. Then bring the car to the rear exit."

"How soon we leaving?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Can you get the sapphire in that time?" Winkey asked doubtfully. "What if the old lady holds out?"

"I've locked her in her room. Also the other women. I'll not bother with Mrs. Hawthorne. There are quicker methods."

"Her granddaughter?"

"Exactly. We'll carry out my original plan. Miss Rhoda will be glad to talk when I have finished with her!"

"It's kinda harsh treatment--"

"Do as you are told!" Father Benedict cut in sharply.

"Okay, boss," agreed Winkey. "I'll sure be glad to shake the dust of this place off my feet. This cult racket never was in our line. We got in deeper than we figured."

"Do less talking and more thinking!" snapped the monk. "I'll take care of Rhoda and have the sapphire within fifteen minutes. She's asleep by this time, I hope."

"I looked in through the peephole a minute ago," the hunchback informed. "Sleeping like a babe!"

"Good!" Father Benedict approved. His final order sent an icy chill down Penny's spine. "Give me your lantern, Winkey. I'll go below now and turn on the machinery."

CHAPTER 21 _SNATCHED FROM THE FLAMES_

From beneath the dusty tarpaulin, Penny had listened tensely as Father Benedict and Winkey planned their escape.

She knew that by morning they would be in another state, beyond reach of Riverview police.

Fifteen minutes! The time was so short--too short for her to summon authorities even if she could reach a telephone.

And what of Rhoda in the chapel bedroom? Father Benedict had spoken of turning on machinery in the cellar! What machinery did he mean?

A great fear arose within Penny. Rhoda was in great danger! She must make every effort to save her--but how?

Father Benedict and his servant now were leaving the cloister, walking directly toward the canvas under which the girl huddled.

Suddenly, to Penny's horror, the dust of the tarpaulin began to irritate her nose.

She fought against an impulse to sneeze but could not control it. Though she pressed both hands against her nose, a muffled ker-chew came from beneath the canvas.

Father Benedict halted, looking sharply about the darkened cloister.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"I didn't hear nothin'," replied Winkey, flashing his lantern on the pillars.

"I thought someone sneezed."

"You're getting jumpy, boss," insisted the hunchback. "I sure didn't hear nothing."

"What's that over there by the fountain?" Father Benedict demanded, noticing the tarpaulin.

"Only an old piece of canvas. I brought it up from the basement this afternoon."

"For a second, I thought I saw it moving!"

"You've sure got the jumps," said Winkey. "If you want me to look for that girl again, I'll give the place a good going over."

"No, there's no time!" the monk decided. "As long as the dogs are loose in the yard, she never can get out of here without them sounding an alarm. Then we'll nab her."

"I'll go after the car and have it at the rear exit before you're ready to leave," the hunchback promised. "Just be sure you get the sapphire!"

"Leave it to me," said Father Benedict grimly. His voice faded away and Penny knew that the two conspirators were at last leaving the cloister.

Waiting a moment longer to be certain they would not change their minds and return, she extricated herself from the folds of the grimy canvas.

"Wow! That was a close call!" she told herself. "If what Father Benedict said is true, then I'm trapped in this building along with the others! What a predicament!"

Penny groped for her flashlight and was reassured to find it still in her pocket. She tested it briefly, then switched it off again.

Tiptoeing down a long, damp-smelling corridor, she passed a window. Hopeful that it might be unlocked, she paused to test it.

Not only was the catch fastened, but the window also had been nailed. Peering out, she gazed hopefully toward the distant road. No cars were in sight. Nor was there a light gleaming in the windows of the Eckenrod cabin, over the hill.

Instead, Penny saw an ugly hound circling the monastery grounds, his nose to the earth.

"Winkey already has turned the dogs loose!" she thought in dismay. "I haven't a chance to get out of here quickly!"

Switching on her flashlight for an instant, Penny looked at her wristwatch. In astonishment, she saw that it was only twenty minutes after nine. She had assumed the hour to be much later, so many events had transpired since her arrival at the monastery.

"If only I could let the _Star_ office know of my predicament!" she thought. "Mr. DeWitt won't even wonder what's become of me before ten o'clock. By that time Father Benedict and Winkey will be miles from here!"

The main gate of the monastery had been closed and locked. Penny reasoned that even if she were able to get out of the building, the dogs would be upon her before she could scale the high boundary fence, and make her escape.

As she hesitated at the window, debating whether or not to smash the glass and take a chance, she heard the roar of an automobile motor.

For a moment she was hopeful a car was coming down the road. Then, with a sinking heart she realized that it was Winkey bringing the big black automobile from the front of the house to the rear exit.

"The minute he and Father Benedict get their thieving hands on the sapphire, they'll leave here!" she reasoned. "Oh, why can't I think of some way to stop them?"

Penny had left her own car parked on the road not far from the monastery. She was hopeful that should her father or anyone from the newspaper office seek her, they would see the car and deduct that she was somewhere inside the ancient building.

"But no one will come until it's too late," she thought. "Mrs. Weems probably went to bed early and didn't tell Dad I came here. Mr. DeWitt won't think about it until nearly deadline time at the _Star_."

Outside, the hounds kept roaming the grounds. Penny had never seen such vicious looking animals.

Abandoning all hope of getting away without risking being torn to pieces, she decided her wisest course would be to keep hidden until Father Benedict had driven away.

"Maybe by staying, I can help Rhoda," she reflected. "Father Benedict intends to force her to tell where the sapphire is hidden!"

With noiseless tread she started toward the chapel bedroom which adjoined the church ruins. In passing the monk's study she noticed that the door stood slightly ajar.

Peering cautiously in, she saw that the room was in disarray. All of Father Benedict's clothing, art treasures, and personal belongings had been removed. Drawers of the desk had been emptied of their contents.

In the fireplace, flames leaped merrily. Plainly, the monk had disposed of many papers by consigning them to the fire.

At the edge of the hearth lay several sheets torn from a notebook. One of the pages had caught fire and was burning slowly.

Recognizing it as a sheet listing society contributions, Penny darted forward and stamped out the flames.

Only half of the paper had been charred. Many of the names still could be read. Folding the good section, she placed it in her coat pocket.

Two other pages which had not caught fire proved to be blank.

Unable to rescue anything else from the flames, Penny quitted the study and moved hurriedly toward the chapel bedroom.

From the dormitories she now could hear muffled cries and poundings which told her cult members had discovered themselves locked in their rooms.

"I can't get them out without keys," Penny thought. "But if they make enough noise, someone may hear and come here to investigate."

The closing of a nearby door brought the girl up short. As she froze against the passageway wall, Father Benedict stepped from the closet adjoining the bedroom where Rhoda was imprisoned.

Instantly Penny guessed that he had been watching the girl through the peephole.

Father Benedict's satisfaction as he started toward the ruined church was frightening to behold. Thin lips were twisted into an ugly smile, and as he passed within a few feet of where Penny stood he muttered:

"Ah rest!--no rest but change of place and posture; Ah sleep--no sleep but worn-out posture; Nature's swooning; Ah bed!--no bed but cushion fill'd with stones."

CHAPTER 22 _THE CANOPIED BED_

In the chapel bedroom Rhoda Hawthorne had been greatly cheered to realize that soon she might be freed from imprisonment.

The brief conversation with Penny through the closet peephole encouraged her to believe that almost at once help would come.

_Penny is proving to be one of the best friends I ever had and I hardly know her_, she thought. _I wish now I had told her everything, especially about the sapphire._

With regret the girl recalled how she had rebuffed Penny and Louise on the occasion when they had offered her a ride into Riverview.

But at that time she had considered them strangers who only meant to pry into her affairs. _If I had told everything then, Grandmother and I might have been spared much suffering_, she reflected. _I should have asked them to take me to the police._ _The worst mistake of my life was coming back to this horrible place._

Restlessly, Rhoda tramped about the chapel room. The air was very stuffy and the absence of windows distressed her. She felt oppressed, as if the four walls were pressing in upon her.

The room was scantily furnished with only the huge canopied bed, an old fashioned dresser, and a table. There were no chairs.

Groping on the dresser, the girl found a stub of a candle in a holder. At first she could discover no matches. However, after examining all the dresser drawers, she came upon one.

Shielding it carefully from draughts, she managed to light it and ignite the wick of the candle.

"It won't burn longer than twenty minutes," she estimated. "But by that time, perhaps Penny will be back here with help."

The dim light depressed rather than cheered the girl. Cold currents of air coming from the chinks of the walls caused the flame to flicker weirdly, and almost go out.

A grotesque figure weaved like a huge shadow-boxer on the expanse of smoky plaster. At first, watching it in fascination, Rhoda could not determine its cause. Then, with no little relief, she decided it was a shadow of the bed draperies, moving slightly with the draughts of cold air.

The room had no heat. Soon, against her will, Rhoda was driven by the chill to seek the warmth of the canopied bed.

With repugnance she eyed the strange, old-fashioned piece of furniture which dominated the room. The bed was wide enough to accommodate three or four persons comfortably. Tall posters of twisted wood supported a carved framework to which were attached dusty, scarlet draperies.

A moth-eaten carpet covered a section of floor directly beneath the bedstead. Rhoda gave it only a passing glance and did not think to look under its curling, frayed edges.

With a shiver of distaste, she pulled aside the draperies and crawled into the bed. No cover had been provided, but there were clean sheets. The damp-smelling spread offered a little relief from the cold.

For some time Rhoda lay staring at the beamed ceiling and trying in her mind to reconstruct the old chapel as it might have been in the days when the monastery was a religious center.

The girl had not the slightest intention of falling asleep. She felt wide awake, tense in every muscle. Not a sound escaped her, and every noise seemed intensified.

A board creaked.

_It's nothing_, she told herself. _All old houses make strange sounds, especially when a wind is blowing._

Yet disturbing thoughts plagued the girl. What did Father Benedict intend to do with her? Why had he locked her in this particular room?

Suddenly Rhoda stiffened and clutched the sheet convulsively. Was it imagination or had she heard a low moan?

The sound had seemed to come from beneath the bed. Half tempted to look beneath the draperies, she resisted the impulse.

_I did hear something_, she thought. _It sounded as if someone were in pain. And the noise came from the cellar below!_

Now to torment the girl came reflections of unexplained happenings since her arrival at the monastery. On several nights she had heard disturbances from the cellar region. Winkey, she knew, made frequent trips to the crypt upon one pretext or another.

Suddenly Rhoda was startled by a light and repeated tapping on the wall near the closet peephole.

Certain that it was Penny who had returned, she leaped out of bed and bounded across the room.

The panel of wood moved back and two eyes peered in at her.