Part 3

But half way up, she suddenly halted, her body jerking taut. Uttering a low cry which was almost a scream, she stared at an object lying on the step in front of her.

"Why, Mother! What's wrong?" cried Lorinda.

With Penny and Celeste, she hastened to the staircase. Mrs. Rhett's face was as colorless as if she had seen a ghost. Her lips trembled. Without speaking, she pointed to the stair carpet.

There at her feet lay two burnt match ends tied together with a bit of scarlet string.

"An _ouange_! An evil _ouange_!" whispered Celeste in horror.

Lorinda turned upon her angrily.

"Celeste, don't say such things! You know how nervous Mother is, and how easily she becomes upset! If this is one of your charms--"

"No! No!" the woman protested. She stared fixedly at the object on the floor. "This charm is not mine and it is not Anton's!"

"Then how did it get here?"

"I do not know. It is a sign of evil--a sign of death."

"Superstition!" exclaimed Lorinda.

Mrs. Rhett started on up the stairs, but as she would have stepped over the burned matches, Celeste seized her by the skirt, pulling her backwards. Frightened, the woman screamed and fell heavily against the wall.

Celeste kept her from collapsing, all the while muttering words Penny could not understand.

"Stop that gibberish!" Lorinda commanded.

Mrs. Rhett broke away from Celeste, and with an hysterical cry, moved down the stairway and into the library. Though she closed the door behind her, the girls could hear her sobs.

"Now see what you've done!" Lorinda accused Celeste.

The woman paid no attention to her. Bending over the match sticks, she swayed back and forth as she muttered a strange chant. As Lorinda sought to pick up the charm, Celeste struck her wrist a sharp blow.

"Fool!" she exclaimed. "Would you let your mother die a slow and painful death? Do not touch this thing of evil until I have finished! If she had stepped over it, nothing would have saved her."

Celeste kept on with her mutterings until at last she was through. "I have done all I can," she said with a deep sigh. Gingerly she picked up the match ends and, dropping them into the living room fireplace, saw them consumed by flame.

"Now what is all this stupidity about Mother dying a slow death?" Lorinda demanded sternly. "How did that thing get into this house, and what does it mean?"

"How it came here I do not know," replied the woman. "Its meaning is simple. In the jungles such symbols are sometimes placed on new graves, that the departing spirit may kindle a little fire and warm its cold hands in the other world."

"That's enough!" interrupted Lorinda. "Don't tell me any more. It's all so silly."

"It is the truth."

"Well, true or false, Mother is not to be told such nonsense. She's upset enough as it is."

"Your mother already knows," said the housekeeper. "That is why she weeps. She fears that even now the spell is upon her."

"Celeste, you must be out of your mind!" Lorinda cried in exasperation. "You never said such dreadful things or acted like this when Father was here. What has taken possession of you?"

"I fear for the family. It bodes ill that my master should remain away. If only the Zudi drum were out of the house--destroyed--"

Lorinda's patience had been overtaxed. "The Zudi drum!" she cried. "Oh, Celeste, you're impossible! Go find Anton and if you must, talk such nonsense to him! But not another word of it before us! Do you understand?"

Celeste stood facing the two girls defiantly. Her eyes burned with an angry fire, and Penny expected her to make a bitter retort to Lorinda. Instead, she seemed to withdraw into herself, and with downcast head, scurried toward the kitchen.

CHAPTER 6 _MATCHES AND STRING_

After Celeste had gone, Lorinda went quickly to the library. Speaking soothingly to her mother, she urged her to go upstairs and lie down.

"That dreadful thing on the steps!" Mrs. Rhett exclaimed with a shudder. "Celeste jerked me back to keep me from walking past it, didn't she? The charm has an evil significance--perhaps that I shall have a long lingering illness or die."

"You know better than that, Mother. It's all superstitious rot! What ever gave you such an idea?"

"Why, I don't really know, Lorinda. I suppose Hamilton told me about the charm long ago. When I saw it on the step it gave me a deep shock and I seemed to realize that it had been put there for me alone to find. Lorinda, what if it should be a native death charm?"

"Mother, I won't allow you to even think of such foolishness! You're just upset because Father isn't here."

"Yes, that must be it," Mrs. Rhett declared with a heavy sigh. "I have such a headache. I'll go to my room now and try to sleep."

Lorinda took her arm and helped her up the stairway. As they came to the step where the burnt matches had been, Mrs. Rhett glanced down and shivered. Then she laughed apologetically.

"It really is silly of me to let a little thing upset me so," she declared. "I'll be myself again as soon as I have slept."

After helping her mother into bed, Lorinda returned to the living room where Penny had waited.

"I do hope you won't put any of this in the paper," she began earnestly. "People wouldn't understand."

"I'm afraid I don't myself," said Penny. "For instance, what did Celeste mean when she spoke of the Zudi drum? And who is she anyhow?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you! Celeste and her husband Anton, are a couple my stepfather brought to this country after spending a year studying ancient cult practices. Celeste befriended him, I believe, and helped him gain information about the tribesmen. Anyway, Father took a fancy to her, and persuaded the couple to come with him."

"That was before he married your mother?"

"Oh, yes. After the wedding, my stepfather was unwilling to let Celeste and Anton go, so Mother agreed that they might work here. Anton is a worthless servant. He allows the grounds to run down shamefully, and the only time he ever really works is when someone stands over him!"

"And Celeste?"

"Oh, she is a hard worker, but I confess I don't understand her," Lorinda replied. "We disliked each other on sight. In a way, I'm a little afraid of her."

"Why?"

"I can't explain." Lorinda stirred restlessly. "She makes me feel uneasy whenever I am near her--almost as if I were in the presence of Black Magic."

At Penny's expression of astonishment, she amended hastily: "Oh, I don't mean that exactly. Celeste is devoted to my stepfather and I'm sure only means to be helpful. But the truth is, she's steeped in a mysterious and not too wholesome past. Superstition is the breath of life to her."

"How did the match ends get on the stairway?"

"I wish I knew." Lorinda's forehead wrinkled with anxiety. "Celeste may have told the truth when she said neither she nor Anton had anything to do with it."

"Then how was the charm brought into the house?"

"My stepfather had enemies. Something tells me all this may have a connection with the Zudi drum."

"Didn't Celeste suggest that idea to you? She hinted that the drum--whatever it is--should be removed from the house."

"I can see myself getting rid of the Zudi drum! Why, it is my stepfather's most prized trophy! He took it from a native tribe, and as you might imagine, there was plenty of trouble!"

"Your stepfather didn't steal the drum?"

"Not exactly, though tribesmen may have regarded it that way. The drum was used in ceremonials and was highly treasured by natives. Father tried to buy it. When he couldn't, he left money and trinkets and carried off the drum. Natives pursued him for more than a hundred miles, but he got away."

"And your stepfather has the drum now?"

"Yes, we keep it in the library wall safe. Want to see it?"

"I'd love to, if it's not too much trouble."

"The truth is I want to check to be certain the drum is still here," Lorinda replied, leading the way into the adjoining room. "What Celeste said made me uneasy."

"You think your stepfather may have removed the drum from the wall safe?"

"I can't imagine him doing that. However, his long absence is puzzling, and finding the burnt match charm gives the whole situation a sinister slant. It's barely possible some of those tribesmen followed him here, hoping to recover the Zudi drum."

"Why, that seems fantastic!"

"Not if you understand tribal customs. From all my stepfather told me of his experiences, I am sure members of the Zudi cult would stop at nothing in trying to recover their ceremonial drum."

Penny inquired if Mr. Rhett ever had received threats against his life.

"Oh, dozens of them, but that was years ago. Since he married Mother, I've not heard of any. But then, my stepfather was self-contained and rather strange in many ways. If he had received threats, he might not have told her."

Becoming more interested in the story minute by minute, Penny longed to ask if Mr. and Mrs. Rhett ever had had serious disagreements. However, the question was a difficult one, and she knew of no way to phrase it without risking offense to Lorinda.

"I'd never admit it to Celeste," the Rhett girl went on, carefully drawing heavy draperies across the arched doorway of the library and closing another door which opened toward the stairs. "But seeing that match and string _ouange_ gave me an unpleasant moment. I'm afraid my stepfather's enemies may have picked up his trail. In that case--well, the charm really could become an omen of evil."

"You're becoming morbid," laughed Penny. "What is there to fear in two burnt matches tied with a string?"

"Nothing perhaps," replied Lorinda, though without firm conviction. "Let's hope the Zudi drum is still here. I wish it had never been brought into the house."

A large painting of a Dutch windmill hung low on the north library wall. To Penny's surprise, Lorinda gave one of its long gold cords a jerk. The picture swung back to disclose a cleverly hidden safe.

"Now I hope I haven't forgotten the combination," Lorinda murmured.

Thinking a moment, she whirled the dials with an expert touch. The safe failed to open. With an exclamation of annoyance, she tried again. This time there was a sharp little click and as she turned the handle, the circular door swung back.

Lorinda thrust her arm deep into the opening. "It's here all right!" she exclaimed.

From the safe she drew forth a bowl-shaped drum, perhaps eight inches in diameter at the opening. An animal skin was stretched over the framework and the sides were decorated with symbols.

"This probably is my stepfather's most valuable trophy," Lorinda declared. "He treasures it above all else, because there is no other exactly like it. But the drum never should have been taken from the native tribe."

With her fingers, the girl tapped out a rhythm on the drum. The first three notes were slow and heavy, with a series of triplets coming as a light splutter at the end.

. . . ... . . . ... . . . ... . . . ...

Penny, who had a keen sense of the ludicrous, began to sway to the jungle rhythm. Lorinda drummed with more energy, and they both burst into laughter.

But suddenly for no apparent reason, the mirth died from Lorinda's lips and abruptly she ended the tapping.

Tossing the Zudi drum into the wall safe, she closed the heavy door and spun the dials. With another swift movement, she swung the picture into place.

Penny started to speak, but a significant glance from her companion served as a warning to remain silent.

Lorinda darted across the room, and jerked aside the heavy brocade curtains which framed the arching doorway. Crouching behind the protective folds was the same dark-skinned servant who had talked to Penny from the upstairs window!

CHAPTER 7 _WHISPERING WALLS_

"Anton!" Lorinda exclaimed in disapproval. "Why were you listening?"

The servant, a man of perhaps forty whose well-cut livery was worn in a sloppy manner, stared at her almost insolently and without the least embarrassment.

"Hear jungle drum," he said.

"I was showing the Zudi to Miss Parker," Lorinda replied stiffly.

"You keep him in wall safe?" inquired Anton.

Lorinda bit her lip with annoyance. She made no answer.

"Now that master gone, maybe much better you get rid of Zudi drum," Anton advised.

"Why do you say that?"

"Zudi drum bring trouble. Anton tell master so when he bring it to this country."

"And what do you suggest we do with the drum?"

"Anton take care of it," the servant offered eagerly. "Sink it deep in river."

Lorinda smiled and shook her head. "The Zudi drum is my stepfather's most cherished possession. He never would forgive me if I disposed of it while he's gone."

"Maybe master never come back."

"Anton!" Lorinda reproved. "You're not to make such remarks!"

"Yes'm," the man muttered, but as he retreated from the library doorway Penny fancied she saw him smile as if well pleased with himself.

After the servant had gone, Lorinda remarked in a whisper: "I wish he hadn't seen me put the drum away. Somehow I've never trusted Anton although he's always been devoted to my stepfather. Sometimes I feel that he hates me."

"You say he didn't know until just now where the drum was kept?"

"No, he may have suspected, but he never was certain. Anton always has been deeply interested in that drum, which as I understand, belonged to another tribe--sworn enemies of Anton's group. He and Celeste helped my stepfather obtain the drum, or rather they told him about its existence, so I suppose it's natural that they remain interested."

"Anton seemed to believe the drum might bring trouble on the household."

"Just stupid superstition! He's never worried about it before." Lorinda was thoughtful a moment, then added: "Of course, there is a possibility members of the Zudi tribe may have traced my stepfather here and intend to avenge themselves. But that hardly seems likely."

"What of the serpent drawing found in your stepfather's desk?" Penny reminded her. "And the words, 'This Shall be the End?'"

"I'd not venture an opinion until I have seen the handwriting," Lorinda returned.

As the girls were leaving the library, Penny heard an automobile rattle up to the front of the mansion. Peering from a window, she saw Salt Sommers climbing out of the car, camera and flashbulbs in his hand.

His arrival reminded her that she was here to get a story for the _Star_.

"The police aren't here?" Lorinda inquired tensely, moving to the window.

"No, it's one of our photographers. He'll need a picture of you and your mother. It will only take a minute."

Lorinda, who had been growing more and more friendly, now became cold and aloof.

"No picture," she said firmly. "I thought you understood. My mother and I wish no publicity whatsoever."

"But--"

"I am afraid I must ask you to leave now," Lorinda said.

Deeply chagrined by her failure to obtain a picture, Penny followed the Rhett girl to the front door.

"I'm sorry," Lorinda said, observing the proud tilt of Penny's chin. "It's nothing personal. I really like you very much and would like to help you--but I can't."

She opened the door and Penny went out. As the latch clicked behind her, Salt, a tall young man with an aggressive walk, came toward the porch.

"Hi, Penny!" he greeted her casually. "Sorry to be late, but I got tied up in a traffic jam at Fulton Bridge. Everything lined up for the pictures?"

Penny told him the bad news.

"Now see here, they can't do that to us," Salt said, knocking on the door of the old mansion. "I'll catch the dickens from DeWitt if I go back to the office without a picture. How about the story?"

"Not much we can use. I talked to Mrs. Rhett and her daughter, but they didn't give me any real information. Mr. Rhett's disappearance seems to be as puzzling to them as anyone else."

"You can hook your story onto that angle then. But me--I've got to come up with a picture." Salt knocked again on the door. "Say, are they all deaf in there?"

"It's no use," Penny said. "I doubt if anyone will answer."

Salt pounded a few more times, and then was forced to admit that he was only wasting his energy. "I might take a shot of the house," he said. "Gloomy old morgue, isn't it?"

"That's about all you can do under the circumstances."

"A picture of a house," Salt groaned. "DeWitt'll go for it like a ton o' brick. He'll probably throw a typewriter at me!"

"There's another place on the grounds that might be more interesting. It's a sort of thatched roof cottage."

Salt immediately brightened. "Let's have a look-see," he proposed. "Maybe we can round up a gardener or someone who'll pose."

Circling the house, Penny led the way down the graveled path. Salt took such long strides it was hard to keep up with him. He'd had a tough day, he told her. As if taking shots of society women at the Country Club hadn't been bad enough, right on top of it he'd been sent to the airport to catch a couple of prominent state officials. And then, before he'd had a chance to get the pictures printed, DeWitt had ordered him to the mansion.

"It's just one thing after another," he muttered. "I wish someone would tell me why I don't quit newspaper photography."

"Because, no matter what you say, you like the excitement," Penny supplied. "Remember those shots you took of the Governor that were printed in the rotogravure section?"

"Sure," grinned Salt, his good humor returning. "I also remember the time I was sent to a furniture store to take some pictures for the advertising department, and without me knowing it, the store closed for the night. I telephoned DeWitt I was locked in, and what did the old crow do? 'Just sit down and wait,' he says. 'I'll get hold of a watchman, and we'll have you right out of there.'"

Penny had heard the story several times but did not ruin the photographer's pleasure by saying so.

"DeWitt didn't do a doggone thing!" Salt went on. "He just told everyone in the office. I cooled my heels in that place until nine o'clock at night! A fire broke out across town then, and DeWitt needed another photographer, so finally he got me out!"

"Mr. DeWitt has a queer sense of humor," Penny acknowledged. "But he is a good editor."

"Best there is," Salt agreed loyally. "But wow! He's going to tear me apart limb from limb when I come in with nothing but a picture of a thatched roof cottage!"

Penny was tempted to tell the photographer of Lorinda's strange action in warning her not to approach the building. However, she felt sure he would make light of the entire matter, so she remained silent.

"Is that the place?" Glimpsing the thatched roof cottage through the trees, Salt paused to stare at it. "Looks like a jungle hut."

"A reproduction of one, I imagine," Penny said, "but it might be the genuine product. Mr. Rhett, I've been told, was a world traveler and brought home many relics and souvenirs of jungle and cult life."

They approached closer and Salt stopped again, this time to take two shots.

"What's inside?" he asked. "Let's take a look."

Penny was curious to see the interior of the cottage despite Lorinda's warning. However, as she trotted along at Salt's heels, she experienced a strange, uneasy feeling, as if she were intruding upon forbidden ground.

The photographer was troubled by no such misgivings. Boldly he went to the door and tried to thrust it open. It was locked and would not budge.

Thwarted, he examined the painted plumed serpent which decorated the door.

"What's this thing?" he muttered.

Penny told him about the similar design which had been found on a paper in Mr. Rhett's office.

"I'll take a close-up of the door then," Salt decided. "It will tie in with your story, if you build up the mystery angle."

While the photographer took two pictures of the door, Penny wandered around to the back of the tiny cottage. Only one small window provided light. It had been cut in the wall high toward the sloping thatched roof, and to peer into the dark interior, Penny had to stand on tiptoe.

Inside the room, a spot of light and flame drew her gaze. And at the same instant, something jabbed her ribs from behind. With a startled cry, she whirled around.

Then she laughed, for it was Salt who had come up quietly.

"You frightened me out of a year's growth!" she exclaimed. "Don't ever do that again!"

"What do you see? Anything interesting?"

"It looks as if a lamp is burning inside. But the cottage must be deserted!"

Salt peeped through the window. "It is a light--an oil flame!" he exclaimed. "But there's no one in the room."

"Let's go," said Penny with a shiver. "It's getting late and we're due back at the office."

"Not scared, are you?" the photographer teased.

"Of course not! But the door is locked, and we're not supposed to be here."

Salt tested the window. Surprisingly, it raised easily.

"Here, I'll boost you in," he offered. "Up you go! Then you can unlock the door and let me in."

"Oh, Salt, should we?"

"Why not?" he argued. "We were sent to get a story and pictures, weren't we? Well, maybe what we're after is right here."

Only half convinced, Penny permitted herself to be boosted through the window. She dropped lightly onto a wooden floor. The interior of the cottage was gloomy, brightened only by a flickering flame which came from a floating wick in a cocoanut shell filled with oil.

The atmosphere of the room, was sombre, almost terrifying. Taking no time to look about, Penny scurried to unlock the door. She felt more at ease as Salt sauntered in.

"Well, this is a queer layout," he observed. "A regular jungle hut."

The room was bare of furniture except for a low wooden table upon which the cocoanut oil lamp burned. On one wall hung two black and red flags with serpentine symbols sewn with metallic beads.

Across the room, above the deep fireplace, two crossed machetes dangled from cords attached to the wall. Beneath the table was a small, crude wooden chest, and lying upon it was a rattle made from pebbles placed in a painted canister.

Salt shook the rattle several times. In the stillness of the room, the clatter of the pebbles seemed almost deafening to Penny's sensitive ears.

"Oh, please!" she pleaded.

"Don't you like it?" he teased.

Penny shook her head. With fascinated gaze, she stared at the flickering oil light.

"Do you suppose that thing burns all the time, Salt, or has someone just been here?"

"It couldn't burn very long, unless someone keeps refilling the shell with oil. Wonder what's in this chest?"

Salt stooped to raise the lid. As he did so, Penny, who stood close beside him, suddenly clutched his arm. At his look of surprise, she mumbled:

"I thought I heard something just then--like the rustling of silk!"

Salt listened a moment and chuckled. "That old imagination of yours is working overtime, Penny! Relax!"

"But I did hear a rustling sound as if someone were moving along the wall. Listen! There it is again!"

"No one could--" Salt began, and broke off. The queer look that came over his face told Penny that he too had heard the sound.

Then whispering began, and seemed to issue from the very cottage walls. At first the stunned pair could not distinguish a word. But gradually the words whispered in a throaty voice became audible.

"Go!" the warning voice commanded. "All is forbidden!"

CHAPTER 8 _GHOST OF THE DARK CORNERS_

Salt was the first to recover from surprise at the whispered warning. Convinced that someone must be crouching beneath the open cottage window, he strode across the room to peer outside.

No one was in sight.

"The voice seemed to come from the wall itself!" Penny murmured. She added jokingly, "Maybe this place has a ghost who is annoyed because we climbed in through the window!"

"That whispered warning came from a very human ghost," the photographer muttered. "We'll do a little annoying ourselves if we can find the bird!"