“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.
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.”
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 theStaroffice 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 theStar.”
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.”
“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.”
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.
“Is that you, Penny?” Rhoda whispered eagerly.
“Julia!” was the answer.
“Oh,” Rhoda murmured in bitter disappointment. “I hoped—”
“Master send you some supper,” the servant mumbled. “Bread and coffee.”
“I don’t want them!”
“Better you eat and drink,” Julia admonished. “But do not sleep. This room is evil—evil!”
“You’re telling me!” retorted Rhoda, lapsing into slang. “All I want is to get out of here. Julia, let me free and I’ll pay you well! I’ll give you anything you want!”
“No key.”
“But you know where it is kept?”
“The master keep keys on him always.”
“He would! Can’t you trick him or something?” Seeing the old woman’s blank stare, Rhoda sighed and answered her own question. “No, it’s too much to expect. But maybe you could slip away from here and bring help—”
“Master never let me out of the house. My place is in the kitchen. I must go there now—to the kitchen.”
“Wait!” Rhoda checked her. “You say Father Benedict sent some food? On second thought, I’ll take it. He may not give me anything again for a long while. I expect to be out of here soon, but something could go wrong.”
Rhoda longed to ask Old Julia if she had seen Penny or if the girl had escaped. However, knowing that the old woman might divulge the secret to Father Benedict, she wisely did not bring up the subject.
Julia thrust a hard crust of bread in through the peephole, and then shoved a cup of steaming black coffee into her hand.
“Thanks, Julia,” Rhoda said. “I know you mean well. Working in a place like this isn’t your fault. How did you ever meet Father Benedict anyhow?”
The question was an unfortunate one. Apparently, unpleasant recollections stirred in the woman’s brain, for her eyes became wild. She muttered gibberish Rhoda could not understand. Then she slammed shut the peephole.
A moment later, Rhoda heard her footsteps as she left the closet and retreated down the corridor.
“Poor old Julia,” she sighed. “Wonder if I’ll ever come to the same pass she’s in? I’m sure I will if I have to spend a night in this torture chamber!”
Shivering, Rhoda climbed back into bed. She bit into the bread. Discovering it to be moldy, she hurled it into a far corner of the room.
Rhoda was cold and the hot coffee smelled good. She sipped it cautiously. The brew tasted peculiar, sweetish and unlike any coffee she ever had had before. Nevertheless, it was hot and would warm her chilled bones perhaps.
She drank the entire cupful and leaned back on the pillow.
What was it Julia said, she mused drowsily.Oh, yes, I must stay awake. Must stay awake.
But the warmth of the bed was closing in on her, inviting her to shut her eyes. Though she fought against it, she could feel sleep taking possession of her.
She tried to raise her hand and found it too heavy to lift. Only then did the frightening truth seep into her mind. She had been drugged! Undoubtedly, Father Benedict had slipped a heavy sleeping powder into the coffee! And she stupidly had drunk all of the brew.
The sound of the peephole panel moving again, aroused her momentarily from the stupor into which she rapidly was falling.
Rhoda saw a face at the opening and recognized Father Benedict. He spoke no word, but gazed at her with an expression of evil gloating.
The girl tried to move but her limbs seemed paralyzed. She could not stir.
Then the panel closed and Father Benedict had gone.
Rhoda fell into a sleep only to be rudely awakened as the huge bed gave a slight jerk. The stupefied girl could not think where she was for a moment.
Her head was a-whirl and the room seemed to be spinning. Like a person taking ether, she felt as if she were slipping farther and farther away from reality with each breath.
The canopied bed had come to life and was moving slowly downward through an opening in the floor.
Rhoda stifled an impulse to laugh. Perspiration broke out in every pore as she suddenly knew that it was not a dream nor a horrible imagining.The bed actually was moving!
As she realized her desperate plight, the girl struggled to free herself from the bed clothing. But her limbs refused to obey the commands of her mind. Paralyzed with fright, she tried to scream and made only a choking sound in her throat.
Meanwhile, a great fear had taken possession of Penny as she saw Father Benedict leave the chapel bedroom closet and disappear down a corridor leading into the ruins of the church.
The expression of his face and his evil mutterings warned her that the man thoroughly enjoyed his role, despite his insistence that he abhorred violence.
Fearing for Rhoda’s safety, Penny waited only until he had vanished. Then she slipped into the closet of the bedroom and fumbled for the peephole opening.
She found it and peered anxiously into the darkened bed chamber. Rhoda was lying on the canopied bed, apparently sound asleep.
“Rhoda!” Penny called in a loud whisper.
The girl did not stir.
As Penny whispered the name still louder, she saw the bed jerk. The floor beneath it began to move slowly downward.
In horror, Penny recalled what Jake Cotton, the carpenter, had told her about repairing the ancient lift. Rhoda was being lowered into the crypt below!
“Rhoda!” she cried. “Wake up! Quick! Jump out of bed!”
The girl seemed to hear for she moved slightly and made a choking sound in her throat. But she could not extricate herself from the slowly descending bed.
Numb with despair, Penny saw the girl disappear beyond view. There was a whine of machinery as the bed apparently came to a standstill on the subterranean floor below.
Then after a moment, she heard movement again. The bed slowly ascended. A glance sufficed to show Penny that it was empty.
“I’ve got to help her!” she thought. “That fiend will torture her into telling where the sapphire is hidden if I don’t think of some scheme for saving her. But how?”
Quitting the closet, Penny sought the same passageway Father Benedict had taken into the ruined church.
As she cautiously opened the squeaky door, she saw before her shattered Gothic columns which once had supported a magnificent roof. Now dim stars cast a ghostly light over a mass of piled-up rubble.
Walls, however, had proved remarkably sturdy, rising to a height Penny could not hope to scale. There were no visible exits.
“Where did Father Benedict go?” she speculated. “Steps must lead down to the crypt.”
Penny flashed her light about, seeking an opening. Investigating a pile of stone which had tumbled from an archway, she was elated to find her search at an end. Behind the piled up rocks, cleverly concealed, was a vaulted stone passage and stairway leading down.
Though Penny knew it was highly dangerous to venture below, she did not hesitate. A step at a time, and pausing frequently to listen, she stole down toward the inky blackness of the crypt.
The stone walls on either side of the narrow, curving stairway were cold and clammy to the touch. Water dripped from overhead.
Ahead, in a sunken recess amid the stones, the girl suddenly saw a shadowy figure. Startled, she jerked to a standstill. Then, observing that the object was not a human being but a rusty coat of armor, she breathed easier and went on.
A minute later, as she crept around a turn of the stairway, terror gripped her at first glimpse of the dimly lighted burial crypt.
In grim, orderly rows were the elaborately carved stone sarcophaguses of former residents of the monastery.
Beyond the tombs, backed against a wall, sat Rhoda. Sleepy-eyed, her hair in disarray, she faced Father Benedict who held a lighted lantern close to her face.
Jay Highland had doffed his long robes and stood revealed in ordinary gray business suit. In his coat pocket, within easy reach of his right hand, was a revolver.
“Wake up!” he said, giving Rhoda a hard shake. “You’re only pretending now! The drug in the coffee was not strong enough to keep you asleep. Wake up!”
Rhoda stared at him and her eyes widened in horror.
“You fiend!” she accused him. “Don’t you dare touch me! I’ll scream!”
“Scream at the top of your lungs, my dear. Only the dead will hear you.”
“The dead! Oh!” A shudder wracked Rhoda’s thin body as she became aware of the tombs in the crypt. “Why did you bring me here?”
“For one purpose. I want the sapphire. Hand it over and you will not be harmed.”
“I haven’t the gem.”
“But you know where it is.”
Rhoda remained silent.
“You’ll tell,” Highland rasped, losing all patience. “I haven’t all day! You tricked me with that cheap substitute, and you induced your grandmother to hold out against me. Now we are through playing.”
“You’re nothing but a cheap crook!”
“A crook perhaps,” said the man, “but hardly cheap. The sapphire should be worth $50,000 at a conservative estimate. Now where is it?”
“You’ll never learn from me!” Rhoda cried defiantly. “I’ll die before I’ll tell!”
“My! My! Such heroics! However, I think you will change your mind. Let me show you something, my dear.”
Setting the lantern on the floor, Highland grasped Rhoda roughly by the arm and led her to a small doorway at the far side of the crypt.
“Tell me what you see,” he purred.
Rhoda drew in her breath sharply and recoiled from the sight. She was speechless with fright.
“My dear, I was not thinking of mistreating you—certainly not,” Highland purred. “No, instead we will bring your aged grandmother down here.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Rhoda gasped. “Why, she’s sick.”
“The damp and cold will be bad for her, no doubt,” agreed the imposter. “When I saw her tonight, she seemed to have developed a severe cough. The onset of pneumonia perhaps.”
“Oh!”
“You could so easily spare her suffering,” continued the man wickedly. “Merely by telling me where you hid the sapphire. I know your grandmother had it when she came into this house. But you made off with it, substituting a paste gem.”
“It’s true, I did hide the gem,” Rhoda confessed. “Punish me—not Grandmother.”
“Unless you tell me where the sapphire is hidden she shall be brought down here and treated as those others who defied me.” The man jerked his head toward the room beyond Penny’s view. “What do you say?”
“Let me think about it for a few minutes.”
“You’re stalling for time, hoping that Parker girl will bring help!” the man accused. From his pocket he took a stout cord with which he securely bound Rhoda’s hands and feet.
Bracing her back against the wall, he likewise whipped a handkerchief gag from his clothing.
“This is your last chance,” he warned. “Will you tell, or shall I go for your grandmother?”
“I’ll tell,” Rhoda whispered. “The gem is a long ways from here.”
“Where?”
“Down by the river docks.”
“By the river docks! A likely story!”
“You remember I ran away?” Rhoda asked hurriedly. “I took my suitcase, intending not to come back. Then for Grandmother’s sake I returned. I was afraid I might never get a chance to sneak my clothes out again, so I hid the suitcase under a dock by the river.”
“And the gem?”
“I took it with me when I ran away. It was sewed in the hem of a blue skirt packed in the suitcase.”
“Fool!” Highland exclaimed furiously. “Of all the stupid tricks! Where is the suitcase now?”
“Still under the dock unless someone has found it. But it should be there, because I pushed it up high out of sight beneath the underpinning.”
“Which dock?” the man rasped.
“It was just at the edge of Riverview. Dock Fourteen.”
“At least you remember the number!” he snapped. “If I fail to find the gem, I’ll come back here and make you pay! You may be certain of that!”
“I hope you do come back and that the police are waiting at the gate!” Rhoda retorted. “I hope they put you in prison for the rest of your life!”
Picking up the lantern, Jay Highland started toward the stairway where Penny crouched. She moved hurriedly behind the door which opened into the crypt.
Slight as was the sound she made, Highland detected it.
“Who is there?” he called, holding his lantern high. “Answer or I’ll shoot!”
Penny did not doubt that the man would carry out his threat. Her hand closed on a stone which lay on a ledge directly behind her.
“Don’t shoot,” she said, exposing herself to view.
“So it’s you again!” hissed Highland. “I might have known!”