Part 5

"Those nails are for hanging up clothes, and symbolize a man's rise in the world," Jerry pointed out to her. "Men who patronize the flops usually have only the suit on their backs. But when they make a little money and get two suits, they need a safe place to keep the extra clothes during the day. So they rent one of these tiny rooms which can be locked."

Leading the way down a dark hall to the very end, the landlady opened a door. This room with paper-thin walls, sheltered perhaps twenty men, each cot jammed close to its neighbor. The air was disagreeable with the odor of strong disinfectant which had been used on the bare wood floor.

The room now was deserted save for a man in baggy black trousers who sat on one of the cots, reading a comic magazine. Other beds were made up, but empty.

"Is that man Ben Smith?" Penny asked in disappointment, for he bore not the slightest resemblance to the picture of Mr. Rhett.

"No, I don't know what became of Smith, if he ain't here," the landlady answered. She called to the man on the cot. "Jake, seen anyone in here during the last hour?"

He shook his head, staring curiously at the intruders.

To Jerry the woman said: "You'll have to come back later if you want to see Smith. Maybe after ten o'clock."

Jerry scribbled his name and telephone number on a sheet of notebook paper.

"If he does show up, will you telephone me?" he requested.

"Oh, sure," the woman replied, her careless tone making it clear she would never put herself to so much trouble.

Jerry gave her a five dollar bill. "This should make it worth your while," he said. "You'll earn another five if we find the man."

"I'll call you the minute he comes in," the woman promised with more enthusiasm.

Penny drew a deep breath as she and Jerry left the building, stepping out into the cool, sweet air of the street.

"I still doubt we're trailing the right man," remarked Jerry. "Why would Hamilton Rhett hole in at a place like this?"

"It does seem out of the picture. However, we know he wore a serpent ring at the time of his disappearance."

"The ring may not be the same. Also, if Rhett had been the victim of violence, a bum might have stolen it from him."

"I never thought of that. Should we report what we've learned to the police?"

"Not yet," advised Jerry. "Our clue is pretty flimsy. Let's watch and wait. The landlady may call us, and in any case I'll keep my eye on this place."

It now was so late that Penny decided to return home immediately. Bidding Jerry goodbye at the next corner, she boarded a bus and presently was slipping quietly into her own home.

If she had hoped to elude the watchful eye of Mrs. Maud Weems, the housekeeper, she was doomed to disappointment.

The plump, kindly lady who had looked after Penny since the death of Mrs. Parker many years before, had finished the dishes and was sweeping the kitchen. Fixing the girl with a stern eye, she observed:

"You're later than ever tonight, Penny. When your father came home nearly two hours ago, he had no idea what had become of you."

"Then Dad isn't keeping tab on his employes," chuckled Penny. "I've been working on a special story for the _Star_."

"I've heard that one before," sighed the housekeeper. "In fact, I suspect you charge a great many of your escapades to your work! If I had my way you would give it up."

"Oh, Mrs. Weems, don't be cross," Penny pleaded, giving her a squeeze. "Newspaper work is wonderful! Next time I'll telephone you if I know I'll be late."

"Have you had anything to eat?" the housekeeper asked in a softened tone. "Dinner was over an hour ago."

"I'll dig up something for myself from the refrigerator. Where's Dad?"

Even as Penny asked the question, Anthony Parker, a tall, lean man with graying hair, came to the arched doorway of the kitchen. "Now what's all this?" he inquired. "Penny off the reservation again?"

Mrs. Weems made no reply, knowing only too well that in almost any argument the publisher would support his daughter. Many times, and without success, she had told him she disapproved of his system of granting Penny almost unrestricted freedom.

No one doubted that Mr. Parker was an over-indulgent father, but the publisher had raised his daughter according to a strict code. He knew that she had writing talent and a flair for tracking down a story. Only because she had demonstrated that she could look after herself and think clearly in an emergency, did he allow her to make most of her own decisions.

Now, Penny eagerly poured out an account of her experiences in trying to get the Rhett story for the _Star_. Mr. Parker, who had read most of it in the Green Streak edition, listened attentively, offering little comment other than to say:

"I met Rhett once at a Chamber of Commerce luncheon. Not a bad fellow."

"What was he like?" Penny inquired eagerly.

"Quiet and rather bored by the meeting. I don't recall that he said a dozen words during the luncheon."

"Did he look like a man who would walk off with $250,000 in bonds?"

"Not that I noticed," commented the publisher dryly. "But then, nobody can judge character by external appearances."

Hat in hand, Mr. Parker moved toward the kitchen exit.

"Are you going back to the _Star_ office?" his daughter asked with alert interest.

"No." Mr. Parker edged nearer the door, but Penny blocked the way.

"Then where are you going, Dad? You're holding out!"

"Must I give you a schedule of my life?"

"You're slipping off somewhere, and you don't want me to go!"

"If you must know, I thought I would drop in at the Gay Nineties, a new night club that is opening tonight. The proprietor is one of our best advertisers and he extended a special invitation to attend."

"Fine!" chuckled Penny. "I'll be with you in five minutes. Just give me time to wash my face and pull the snarls out of my hair."

"I was afraid of it," groaned the publisher. "Haven't you any school work to do?"

"Nary a bit. Besides, it's Saturday night and I haven't had any dinner. You can buy me a great big steak with all the trimmings. And perhaps you will dance with me."

Mr. Parker gazed helplessly at Mrs. Weems, but the housekeeper did not come to his rescue. Her shrug indicated that the problem was entirely his.

"Well, all right," he gave in. "But I'll warn you now, this is no party. We'll drop in for an hour or so, then come straight home."

Penny was off like a shot, bounding upstairs to her room. There was no time to change her dress, but she freshened up, and was ready by the time her father had backed the car from the garage.

The Gay Nineties on Euclid Avenue twinkled with lights, and many persons in evening dress were entering beneath the bright red street canopy.

"Looks like all the socialites of the city are here," Penny observed. "Maybe I should have worn my pearls."

"Or washed behind your ears," Mr. Parker chuckled, escorting her inside.

Penny and her father were given one of the best tables in the night club. Studying the menu, the girl was a trifle alarmed to note the prices.

"I'm dreadfully hungry too," she declared. "Dad, I hope you're not intending to charge this outing against my allowance."

"I know I'd have no chance to collect," he teased. "Just relax and select whatever you want. I can stand it this time."

After the order had been given, Penny glanced about the dimly lighted room. The floor show had not yet started. Everywhere she saw well-to-do and prominent persons who had turned out for the gala opening.

Suddenly her attention centered upon a couple who had just entered the door. The woman wore an obviously new white evening gown, and behind her came a short, stubby little man.

"Dad!" she whispered, giving him a kick with the toe of her slipper. "See that man who just came in?"

"Where?" he asked, turning his head.

"He's with the middle-aged woman in white."

"Oh, yes, who are they?" Mr. Parker commented, only mildly interested. "No one I know."

"The man is Albert Potts, secretary to Mr. Rhett at the First National Bank," Penny replied impressively. "How do you suppose he can afford to come to such an expensive night club? If you ask me, Dad, it looks odd!"

CHAPTER 11 _THE WOODEN DOLL_

Mr. Parker studied the bank secretary and his wife with more interest. But he said mildly:

"I see nothing especially significant in Potts coming here, Penny. The club is public."

"It's expensive too. The cover charge is two dollars, and you can't touch a dinner for less than another four! How can Potts afford to pay such prices?"

"He may earn a good salary working for Mr. Rhett--probably does. Anyway, folks don't always spend their money wisely, even if they have very little of it."

Potts and his wife swept past the Parker table without noticing Penny or her father. A trifle self-consciously, as if unaccustomed to appearing in such places, they sat down and studied the menu with concentrated interest.

Penny tried but could not keep her eyes from the pair.

"Dad, I wonder if Potts has any more information about Mr. Rhett's disappearance," she presently remarked. "I have a notion to go over there and ask him."

Mr. Parker nodded absently, so Penny started across the room. She was only midway to Potts' table, when the bank secretary raised his eyes and saw her approaching.

A startled, almost dismayed expression came upon his face. He spoke hurriedly to his wife. She looked puzzled, but both arose and walked quickly toward the exit.

Penny started to follow, then thought better of it.

"Mr. Potts knows I'm a reporter," she reflected. "Probably he doesn't care to be annoyed by having to answer questions. On the other hand, is it possible he doesn't want to be recognized in this night club?"

Mr. and Mrs. Potts obtained their wraps at the checkroom and left the building. Somewhat crestfallen, Penny returned to her own table to find her father chatting with acquaintances.

Under the circumstance, she had no opportunity to speak of Mr. Potts' queer behavior. Soon, dinners were brought and after that the floor show began.

Not wishing to keep his daughter out late, Mr. Parker insisted that they leave in the middle of the entertainment. However, the drive home gave Penny time to tell him about the bank secretary. The incident did not seem to impress her father greatly.

"If I were you I wouldn't pester Potts too much," he advised. "He probably doesn't enjoy being the center of public attention."

Penny slept late the next morning, and because it was Sunday, did not visit the _Star_ office. The paper that day was voluminous. But in going through it she could find no new facts about the Rhett case. No word had been received from the missing banker; there had been no ransom demand received; and neither had Albert Potts nor Mrs. Rhett shed the slightest light on what might have become of him.

After breakfast, Penny telephoned Jerry Livingston to inquire if he had heard from the Cherry Street landlady.

"Not a word," he reported. "I dropped back there late last night, but the man we're looking for apparently never returned."

Disappointed that the case had reached a dead end, Penny next telephoned the Rhett home. No one answered.

"I'm certain someone is there," she thought. "Mrs. Rhett probably has given orders not to answer the phone."

At a loss to know what to do, Penny spent the morning at home, had dinner, then went down the street to see Louise Sidell. However, her chum had gone to visit an aunt for the day.

"What miserable luck!" Penny muttered. "No one with whom I can talk over the Rhett case! Nothing to do!"

Suddenly it dawned upon her, that she might call on Albert Potts at his home, and perhaps induce him to reveal a few helpful facts about the missing banker.

From a telephone book she obtained the secretary's address. Thirty minutes later found her standing before a modest cottage on Berdan Avenue. In response to her knock, the same woman Penny had seen the previous night at the Gay Nineties, came to the door. Now she looked very plain and frowsy in a messy housedress, and her hair hung in untidy streamers.

The woman stared at Penny without recognition.

"Is Mr. Potts here?" the girl inquired.

"No, he's not," Mrs. Potts answered without cordiality, her voice coarse and unattractive. "Anything I can do?"

"I wanted to talk to him. Will he return soon?" Penny moved inside the door.

"When he goes off, I never know when he'll get back. He went to the bank, I guess."

"On Sunday?"

"Al's had a lot of work lately. I tell him he ought to let up. He's getting so jumpy he doesn't sleep at nights. Just tosses and keeps me awake."

Before Penny could ask another question, a boy of ten, who had Albert Potts' sharp features, came racing across the yard up to the door.

"Has the bicycle come yet, Ma?" he shouted.

"No, it hasn't, and I wish you'd quit pestering me!" she snapped. "There won't be any deliveries today."

To Penny, the woman explained: "My husband bought Eddie a new bicycle and he won't give us any peace until it comes. Deliveries take such a long time these days. None of the things we bought have come yet."

Penny did not mean to be inquisitive, but instantly it struck her as unusual that the Potts' family should be indulging in a sudden orgy of spending. Nor had she forgotten the couple's hasty departure from the Gay Nineties club.

"Eddie is getting quite a few new things, I take it," she observed casually.

The woman became more friendly. "Oh, yes, my husband ordered a trapeze set for him, and an electric train. But he bought me a lot too! A new piano and a living room rug. We have a new refrigerator on order, a vacuum cleaner and a bedroom suite!"

"Imagine!" exclaimed Penny. "Your husband must have come into a small fortune."

"He was given a raise last week at the bank. I don't know exactly how much, but it must have been a big one, because Al says we'll have enough now for everything we need."

"I think I've seen you before, Mrs. Potts," Penny remarked, seeking additional information. "Weren't you at the Gay Nineties last night?"

"Yes, we were! But we didn't stay long. Before we had ordered our dinner, my husband remembered an important appointment he had made. We had to leave suddenly. It was awfully disappointing. I never went to a night club before and I wanted to see the show!"

Mrs. Potts paused, obviously waiting for Penny to leave. "I'll tell my husband you called," she said. "You didn't give me your name."

Edging out of the door, Penny pretended not to hear the latter remark. Calling over her shoulder that she would try to see Mr. Potts at the bank next day, she retreated before the woman could learn her identity.

Walking toward the bus stop, the girl reflected upon what she had learned. The financial good fortune of the Potts' family was very puzzling. Apparently the bank secretary's salary had been increased since the disappearance of his employer, Mr. Rhett.

"It seems a queer time to raise the man," she mused. "If his duties have become so much heavier, I suppose the bank board may have granted a compensating wage increase. But it must have been an enormous one to enable him to buy everything in the stores!"

As Penny waited at the street corner for a home-bound bus, she saw one approaching which was headed for the outlying section near the Rhett estate area. Impulsively, she decided to go there to see Lorinda.

"I may not get into the house," she thought. "My luck is running badly today. Anyway, I'll give it a try."

It was nearly four o'clock by the time Penny alighted from the bus and walked to the Rhett estate. Her heart sank as she noticed that curtains were drawn in nearly all of the front windows of the house.

"No one here," she thought. "Lorinda and her mother may have left town to escape questioning by reporters and the police."

Because she had come so far, she knocked on the front door. No one came. Giving it up, she wandered around the house, into the garden.

Curiously she gazed toward the thatched roof cottage, wondering if anyone were there. The whispered warning she and Salt had heard the previous day, remained unexplained. She longed to investigate, yet hesitated to trespass.

As she debated, Penny observed a small column of black smoke rising from amid the shrubbery. Someone apparently had built a bonfire on the beach.

Seeking the steps which led down to the river, Penny presently saw that her guess was correct. A small fire of driftwood had been built on the sands. Lorinda, in slacks and an old sweater, was so engrossed in feeding the flames that she did not hear when her name was called.

Descending the steps, Penny hastened to the beach to join the Rhett girl. Lorinda did not hear the approaching footsteps. Deeply absorbed in what she was doing, she stirred the flames with a stick until they leaped merrily.

Then, from a paper sack she withdrew a queer wooden object which even from the distance Penny could see was a doll. Its body appeared to be tightly wound with scarlet thread.

Lorinda held the doll gingerly in her fingers. She stared at it a moment, shuddered, and then with a gesture of abhorrence, hurled it into the crackling flames.

CHAPTER 12 _SUPERSTITION_

Penny quickened her step. "Lorinda!" she called again.

The girl at the bonfire whirled around. Seeing Penny, she gave the wooden doll a shove with the toe of her shoe, trying to bury it beneath a pile of burning wood.

Penny was not to be so easily deceived. Reaching the fire, she asked directly: "Lorinda, what in the world are you doing?"

"Why, nothing."

"You're burning something you don't want me to see!"

"It's nothing. Just an old doll."

The wooden object had not yet caught fire, and Penny could still see it plainly.

"Why, it's an effigy doll!" she exclaimed, then observing the face clearly, she added in a shocked voice: "A likeness of your mother!"

The scarlet string around the doll's body caught fire, and soon tongues of flame began to consume the wood. Only then did Lorinda speak.

"Now it is destroyed! But I cannot so easily destroy the evil that threatens my mother!"

"Why, Lorinda! What do you mean? Why are you burning this doll?"

Lorinda sank down on the sand, her eyes upon the fire. "I hadn't intended anyone to know. You swear you will never tell Mother?"

"Of course not."

"I found this doll in a downstairs coat closet. You saw for yourself that it was an effigy of Mother and that it was wrapped with string?"

"Yes, but I fail to understand its significance."

"That scarlet wool string is known as a life-thread. Each day a little of the thread is unwound until finally it all is gone. Then the person dies."

"Not your mother, Lorinda! Surely, you don't believe such a crazy superstition!"

"I don't," Lorinda answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "_But Mother will_ if she learns about the doll. That is why she will die, unless I can do something to break the spell."

To Penny the words seemed fantastic, but she realized Lorinda was deadly in earnest and convinced that she was speaking the truth.

"Let's get to the bottom of this, Lorinda. How did the doll come into the house?"

"I only wish I knew. Obviously, it was brought by someone who hates my mother. The doll was carved in her image, and no doubt deadly _basiko_ and _dayama_ incantations were chanted as the string was wrapped tightly about the body."

"Who told you all this lingo?" Penny demanded suspiciously. "Your stepfather?"

"I learned a little of it from him," Lorinda admitted, "but most of my knowledge came from Celeste and Anton."

"Superstitious natives!"

"Laugh if you like, but this form of dark magic which is practiced in the jungles, is a sort of hypnotism. The victim weakens and dies because he _believes that he is doomed_."

"Then the antidote is simple. Just don't put any stock in such rot."

"Easily said, but the victim _always believes_."

"You think your mother will put faith in all this?" Penny scoffed.

Lorinda gave her a strange look. "I know she will, if she learns about the doll. That's why I'm burning it."

"A very sensible act. The doll is destroyed. We'll keep this strictly to ourselves, and the spell is broken!"

"You make it sound very easy."

"Your mother hasn't seen the doll?"

"No, I only found it a few minutes ago."

"Then she'll never hear about it. Haven't you any theory as to how the effigy got into the house?"

"No," Lorinda replied, after a slight hesitation.

"Would your stepfather have had a hand in it?"

"Oh, I don't think so! It would be such a vicious, wicked thing to do!"

"He and your mother always got on well together?"

"No, they had frequent disagreements," Lorinda admitted, squirming uncomfortably. "All the same, my stepfather was not a cruel man."

"Do you have utter confidence in Anton and Celeste?"

"They have been fairly efficient servants. Mother always has treated them well. What reason could they have for hating her?"

"I'm sure I can't see any. Yet someone brought the doll into the house after carving it in your mother's image." Penny thought a moment, and then asked: "Could the Zudi drum have anything to do with it?"

"That angle occurred to me," Lorinda nodded. "From the first, I've been afraid that natives would trail my stepfather here and try to revenge themselves upon him for taking the drum."

"Celeste and Anton are not members of the Zudi cult?"

"No, else they never would have aided my stepfather in acquiring the drum. I understand he never would have heard of it if Celeste hadn't told him of its existence."

"It's all a queer puzzle," Penny commented. "While I suppose it's possible natives could have followed your father to America and now seek revenge upon his wife, such a theory doesn't quite ring the gong."

"Celeste thinks we should get rid of the Zudi drum. Unless we do, she's convinced Mother will die a slow lingering death."

"Celeste seems to have implanted quite a few ideas in your mind," Penny observed dryly. "If you ask me, I should say she's a sinister influence on the household."

"Oh, Celeste means no harm. And the last few days since my stepfather disappeared, she's been very devoted to Mother, waiting on her as if she were a baby."

"Your mother must be terribly worried. You've heard nothing from your stepfather?"

"Not a word. Mother cries half the time, and this morning she refused to leave her room. Even now I'm afraid she is ill."

"Now Lorinda!" reproved Penny. "I'm afraid you're the one who has become hypnotized by that doll!"

"I hope it's just that I'm silly, and that there's nothing to it. But I'm afraid--terribly afraid."

Penny picked up a stick and poked the dying embers. She could find only a charred piece of the doll left on the fire. Flames soon consumed it.

"There, it's gone!" she exclaimed. "Take my advice, Lorinda, and forget this entire incident. Don't tell your mother, Celeste, or anyone."

Lorinda scrambled up, brushing sand from her slacks.

"All right, I'll do as you say," she agreed. "This shall be our secret. At any rate, by burning the doll, I should have put an end to its evil."

Extinguishing the few remaining flames by covering them with sand, the girls slowly climbed the steps. Penny inquired whether or not the police had called at the mansion. Lorinda told her that they had spent nearly two hours questioning Mrs. Rhett.

"By the way," Penny remarked as they approached the house, "do you know Albert Potts?"

"My stepfather's secretary? I've met him a few times. Why?"

"He was quite a favorite with your stepfather, I suppose?"

"A favorite?" Lorinda chuckled. "On the contrary, he couldn't stand him! Potts was always at his elbow, trying to tell him what to do, and what not to do. In his way he was efficient--too efficient, if you know what I mean."