The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels (266 page)

“Is the passageway well hidden?”

“Very cleverly. From the churchyard, one enters an empty tomb above ground. A passageway leads down to the crypt beneath the old chapel.”

“Not a very pleasant way to enter or leave a building,” said Penny with a shudder.

“But convenient in a pinch,” chuckled Mr. Eckenrod. “If Father Benedict is stubborn about allowing me inside, I’ll bide my time and slip in to finish my paintings one of these days when he is away.”

Poring intently over the plans, Penny remarked that she would like to explore the passageway sometime.

“Wait a few days until my leg is strong and I’ll take you through!” the artist offered.

“And if Father Benedict should catch us?”

“We can handle him!”

“Vernon, you shouldn’t put Miss Parker up to such tricks!” his wife protested. “When it comes to playing pranks, or getting even with folks, you’re just like a child!”

“It was no child’s play pushing me into the crevasse!” the artist exclaimed. “As soon as I can hobble to town, I’ll swear out a warrant for that hunchback’s arrest!”

“And involve us in an endless feud with our neighbors,” his wife sighed. “Vernon, you must forget it!”

The discussion was brought to an abrupt end by Penny who declared that she must leave immediately. The Eckenrods thanked her again for her timely assistance, urging her to visit them again soon.

“Don’t forget our date!” the artist added with a chuckle. “I’ll be walking in a day or two. Then we’ll explore the crypt.”

“I’ll not forget,” promised Penny.

Shadows were deepening into early darkness as she set off across the fields, guided by a flashlight Mrs. Eckenrod insisted she take.

The motor of her car was cold, the oil heavy. After two attempts she started it and soon was entering the outskirts of Riverview.

“Wonder if Dad’s still at the office?” she thought. “If he is, I may as well give him a lift home.”

By the time Penny had parked and climbed the stairs to the
Star
editorial room, the hands of her wristwatch were nosing six o’clock.

The first edition had rolled from the presses, and reporters, their feet on the desks, were relaxing for a few minutes.

Mr. DeWitt, the city editor, sat scanning the paper, noting corrections or changes to be made in the next edition.

“Hi, Mr. DeWitt!” Penny greeted him as she paused by the desk. “Dad here?”

“Hello there, Penny,” the editor smiled at her. “He was a minute ago. Yes, here he comes now.”

Mr. DeWitt jerked his head sideways toward the publisher’s private office. Mr. Parker had on his hat and topcoat and would have left by the rear exit without having seen Penny had she not overtaken him.

“Want a lift home, Dad?” she inquired.

“Why, hello, Penny!” he said, pausing in surprise. “I certainly do. I left my car at home today.”

Beside them, an unhooded Western Union teletype bell began to ring insistently.

“What’s that for?” Penny inquired curiously.

“An incoming telegram,” her father explained. “We have a direct wire with the Western Union office now. It saves sending so many messenger boys back and forth.”

The carriage of the machine began to move and the telegram was typed on the long roll of yellow copy paper.

“Why, it’s for you, Dad!” Penny said in surprise. “A wire from Chicago.”

“Chicago?” Mr. Parker repeated. “Guess we’d better wait and see whom it’s from. By the way, how did you and Mr. Ayling make out this afternoon at the monastery?”

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday, Dad. When I went to the hotel to meet him, he wasn’t there.”

“Busy with other matters perhaps.”

“I suppose so,” Penny agreed, “but he might have notified me. He missed a lot of excitement by not going along.”

Before she could tell her father about the skiing accident, the teletype message was completed. Mr. Parker ripped it from the machine. He whistled softly.

“Why, this wire is from Mr. Ayling!”

“Then he’s in Chicago!”

“Apparently so. Listen to his message: ‘CALLED HERE UNEXPECTEDLY BY TELEGRAM SIGNED MRS. HAWTHORNE. TELEGRAM PROVED A FAKE. RETURNING TO RIVERVIEW IMMEDIATELY TO RESUME SEARCH.’”

CHAPTER 12

THE LOCKED DOOR

“Well, what d’you know!” Penny exclaimed as she peered over her father’s shoulder to reread the telegram. “So that explains why Mr. Ayling didn’t meet me today!”

“If he takes the first train back, he should get in early tomorrow,” her father said. “I wonder who tricked him into going to Chicago?”

“Whoever did it probably figured he’d give up the search for Mrs. Hawthorne in disgust,” Penny added excitedly. “Dad, this case is getting more interesting every minute!”

Mr. Parker smiled but made no comment as he pocketed the telegram. Together he and Penny went downstairs to the waiting car.

“Maybe I could help Mr. Ayling by inquiring around the city if anyone has seen Mrs. Hawthorne or her granddaughter,” Penny suggested as she drove with skill through dense downtown traffic.

“I thought Mr. Ayling checked all hotels.”

“Only the larger ones, I imagine. Anyhow, I might run into interesting information.”

“Go ahead, if you like,” her father encouraged her.

Early the next morning, Penny set off alone to visit a dozen hotels. At none of them had anyone by the name of Hawthorne registered.

“She may have used an assumed name,” Penny thought, a trifle discouraged. “In that case, I’ll never find her.”

Hopeful that Mr. Ayling might arrive on the morning train, she went to the Union Railroad Station. Among those waiting on the platform for the incoming Chicago Express was Winkey, the hunchback.

He did not see Penny, and in the large crowd, she soon lost sight of him.

Finally, the train pulled in. But Mr. Ayling did not alight from either the coaches or pullmans. Feeling even more depressed, Penny went home for lunch.

Several times during the afternoon, she telephoned Mr. Ayling’s hotel to inquire if he had arrived. Each time she was told he had not checked in.

“Wonder what’s keeping him in Chicago?” Penny mused. “I hope he didn’t change his mind about coming back here.”

Throughout the day, she kept thinking about the monastery and its strange occupants. The skiing incident of the previous afternoon had convinced her that Winkey at least was cruel and dishonest. As to Father Benedict’s character, she could not make up her mind.

“Possibly he doesn’t know how surly and mean his servant acts,” she thought. “Someone ought to tell him!”

Penny longed to return to the monastery, but hesitated to go there for the deliberate purpose of reporting Winkey’s misbehavior.

“Mr. Ayling may return here tomorrow,” she told herself. “Then perhaps we can drive out there together.”

However, a check of the Riverview Hotel the following morning, disclosed that the investigator still had not arrived in the city.

Decidedly mystified by his failure to return, Penny clomped into the Parker kitchen after having spent an hour downtown. To her surprise she saw that during her absence a bulky package had been delivered.

“It came for you a half hour ago,” Mrs. Weems explained.

“For me! Must be a mistake. I’ve ordered nothing from any store.”

Plainly the package bore her name, so she tore off the heavy wrappings. Inside was a pair of new hickory skis.

“Dad must have sent them!” she exclaimed. “Just what I need.”

However, the skis were not from her father. Among the wrappings she found a card with Mr. Eckenrod’s name.

“Try these for size,” the artist had scrawled in an almost illegible hand. “Thanks for pulling me out of a hole! My leg is mending rapidly, so don’t forget our date!”

“Oh, the darling!” Penny cried. “Mighty decent of him to replace the skis I broke! Only I’m afraid I won’t get to use them many times. It’s thawing fast today.”

Slipping her slim ankles through the leather bindings, she glided awkwardly about the polished linoleum.

“How soon’s luncheon?” she asked impatiently. “I want to go skiing right away!”

“I’ll put it on after I’ve telephoned Jake Cotton,” the housekeeper promised. “He failed to show up here today.”

“Jake Cotton, the carpenter?”

“Yes, your father ordered another bookcase for the den. Jake promised to build it last week. He’s always putting other jobs ahead.”

After telephoning, Mrs. Weems toasted sandwiches and made hot chocolate. Penny ate rapidly, as was her habit when thinking of other matters.

“You won’t need any help with the dishes,” she said hopefully when the meal was over.

“No, run along and ski,” Mrs. Weems smiled. “In spirit you’re already out there on the hills!”

Penny changed quickly into skiing outfit and telephoned Louise Sidell, inviting her to go along.

“Okay,” her chum agreed half-heartedly, “but I’m still lame from the last time.”

By the time the girls reached the hills near the Abbington Monastery, the weather had turned discouragingly warm.

Touring over the slopes, they discarded first their mittens, then their jackets. After Louise had fallen down several times, soaking her clothes in melted snow, she proposed that they abandon the sport.

“So early in the afternoon?” Penny protested. “Oh, we can’t go home yet!”

“Then let’s try something else. It’s no fun skiing today.”

Penny’s gaze fastened speculatively upon the distant chimneys of the old monastery visible through the pine trees. “I have it, Lou!” she exclaimed.

“We’re not going there!” cried Louise, reading the thought.

“Why not?” Already Penny was removing her skis. “I haven’t learned half what I want to know about that place and the people who live there.”

“It gives me the shivers to go near the property. Anyhow, that old hunchback never will let us inside!”

“Why don’t we try, just for luck? Come on, Lou, at least we can talk to him.”

Much against her will, Louise was induced to accompany Penny to the big grilled gate.

To their surprise, it stood slightly ajar as if in invitation for them to enter. The front grounds were deserted and so was the gatehouse.

“We’re in luck!” chuckled Penny. “Winkey’s gone off somewhere.”

Louise’s feet were reluctant as she followed her chum to the entrance door of the monastery. “Please—” she whispered, but already Penny had thumped the lion’s head knocker against the brass plate.

Several moments elapsed and then a peephole panel just above their heads shot open. Old Julia, in white lace cap, her eyes dilated with wonder or fear, peered out at them.

Her lips moved in a gibberish they could not understand.

“She’s telling us to go away!” Louise decided quickly. “And that’s what we’re doing!”

“No! Wait!” Penny held tight to her chum’s arm. “Someone else is coming now.”

Even as she spoke, the door opened and Father Benedict towered above them in his impressive robes.

“Yes?” he inquired. The word was mildly spoken but with no cordiality.

“Good afternoon, Father,” said Penny brightly. “I hope you don’t mind our coming here again. We’re deeply interested in the work you’re doing and would like to learn more about the cult.”

“A story for newspaper publication?”

“Oh, no!” Penny assured him, reading displeasure in his eyes. “We’re just interested on general principles. No one sent us.”

The monk relaxed slightly but still did not invite the girls in. “I am very busy today,” he said. “Perhaps another time—”

“Oh, but we’ll be in school after this weekend, Father.”

“We are preparing for a ceremonial to be held in the cloister,” Father Benedict frowned. “I deeply regret—”

“Oh, a ceremonial!” Penny interrupted eagerly. “May we see it?”

“That is not allowed. Only members of our cult may take part or observe.”

“Well, at least you don’t mind if we come in and warm ourselves at your hospitable fire,” Penny said, determined not to be turned away. “Since the organization is devoted to charity, shouldn’t it begin with a couple of school girls?”

Father Benedict’s thin lips cracked into a slight smile.

“My observation would lead me to believe that the day is a warm one and that neither of you are suffering from frost-bite. However, I admire perseverance and it shall be rewarded. You may come in—though only for a short while.”

“Oh, thank you, Father!” Penny exclaimed, rather astonished by the decision.

In her eagerness to enter, she nearly stumbled over Old Julia, who huddled by the wall just inside the door. Angrily, the monk glared at his servant.

“Keep from underfoot, Julia!” he ordered. “Begone to the kitchen!”

The old woman, with a frightened glance directed at Louise and Penny, scurried away.