Chapter I: Part 1

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Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Brenda Lewis and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

The Cry
at
Midnight

_By_
MILDRED A. WIRT

_Author of_
MILDRED A. WIRT MYSTERY STORIES
TRAILER STORIES FOR GIRLS

_Illustrated_

CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
_Publishers_
NEW YORK

_PENNY PARKER_
MYSTERY STORIES

_Large 12 mo. Cloth Illustrated_

TALE OF THE WITCH DOLL
THE VANISHING HOUSEBOAT
DANGER AT THE DRAWBRIDGE
BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR
CLUE OF THE SILKEN LADDER
THE SECRET PACT
THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN
THE WISHING WELL
SABOTEURS ON THE RIVER
GHOST BEYOND THE GATE
HOOFBEATS ON THE TURNPIKE
VOICE FROM THE CAVE
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
SIGNAL IN THE DARK
WHISPERING WALLS
SWAMP ISLAND
THE CRY AT MIDNIGHT

COPYRIGHT, 1947, BY CUPPLES AND LEON CO.

The Cry at Midnight

PRINTED IN U. S. A.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE
1 MIDNIGHT AT THE GATE _1_
2 "NO TRESPASSING" _8_
3 STRANGER OF THE STORM _17_
4 VANISHING FOOTPRINTS _24_
5 A CRYSTAL BALL _35_
6 CREAKING WOOD _45_
7 A WARNING _51_
8 INTO THE CREVASSE _59_
9 A CALL FOR HELP _67_
10 MR. ECKENROD'S SECRET _73_
11 MAP OF THE MONASTERY _79_
12 THE LOCKED DOOR _86_
13 OLD JULIA'S WARNING _96_
14 AN ASSIGNMENT FOR PENNY _105_
15 FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW _116_
16 THE KITCHEN CUPBOARD _125_
17 THE CULT CEREMONY _132_
18 ELEVEN BOWLS _141_
19 A DORMITORY ROOM _147_
20 TRICKERY _155_
21 SNATCHED FROM THE FLAMES _163_
22 THE CANOPIED BED _170_
23 DESCENT INTO THE CRYPT _178_
24 CHAMBER OF THE DEAD _186_
25 THE STAR SAPPHIRE _197_

CHAPTER
1
_MIDNIGHT AT THE GATE_

After a long, tiring climb, the two friends, Penny Parker and Jerry Livingston, had reached the summit of Knob Hill, far above the city of Riverview.

Now as they paused in the moonlight to catch their breath, the slim, golden-haired girl bent to adjust the irons of her skis before making a swift descent to the clearing below.

"We'll not have many more glorious skiing nights like this one," she said regretfully. "Anytime now, the weather is due to turn warm."

Jerry, a reporter at the _Riverview Star_, nodded as his gaze swept the snowy hillside, unmarked save for the herring-bone tracks made by their own skis.

Tall and muscular, he was several years older than Penny, who attended high school. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, giving him the appearance of a semi-amused spectator of the world's goings-on.

"Jerry, it's getting late," she reminded him. "This will have to be our last run tonight. Ready?"

"Okay, I'll race you to the valley!" the reporter challenged. "Let's go!"

Digging in their poles, they flashed off down the hillside. Though they started together, Penny soon forged ahead, descending the steep slope in graceful, curving Christiania turns.

Beneath the mellow moon, snow crystals were brilliant with light. Every pine bristled with glowing icicles. Penny, feeling the rush of wind on her cheek, drew in her breath and was glad to be alive.

With effortless ease, she swung her hips for the sharp turns between the trees. Finally reaching the clearing, she brought up with a spectacular jump-turn and waited for Jerry who was close behind.

"You're getting faster every trip!" he praised. "I haven't a chance any more!"

Penny laughed, and with her arm linked in his, glided on to the fire where a group of noisy young people were roasting wieners and boiling coffee.

"Time you're getting back!" declared Louise Sidell, a dark-haired girl in heavy red woolen snowsuit. She was on her knees in the snow, feeding hickory chips to the cherry red fire.

Louise considered Penny her dearest friend. Though she would not have admitted it, she was slightly green-eyed whenever another person claimed any of her chum's attention.

"M--m! That coffee smells delicious!" Penny cried, sniffing the fragrant aroma. "I'm starved too!"

She and Jerry made their own sandwiches and poured the steaming beverage. After they had finished eating, the reporter suggested one last climb to Knob Hill.

"It's nearly midnight," said Louise, before Penny could accept. "Oughtn't we to be starting home?"

Immediately a loud chorus of protest arose from other members of the party. Penny looked at her wristwatch regretfully.

"I hate to break up the party," she said. "But I promised Dad I would be in fairly early tonight. Lou and I will run along, and the rest of you stay."

"I'll take you home if you must leave," Jerry offered.

"Oh, Penny has her car," said Louise quickly. "It's parked on the roadside just over the hill."

"Yes," Penny added, "we'll ski down there and be home in a few minutes."

"You're not afraid to go alone?" Jerry asked teasingly.

"Afraid?" The question caught Penny by surprise. "Why should we be?"

"You'll have to pass the old deserted Abbington Monastery to reach your car. It's a spooky place at night!"

Penny arose and slipped her wrists through the loops of her ski poles. "Now don't put ideas into our heads!" she chuckled. "It's just another building."

"Sure you don't want me to go along?" urged Jerry.

"Of course not! Louise and I can handle any ghost we'll meet tonight!"

The girls glided away, pausing at the top of the slope to wave goodbye to their friends. Then they shot down the hill on a trail which skirted a dense grove of pine.

Ahead loomed the gloomy old Abbington Monastery, a structure of moldy stone enclosed by a high brick wall. To the right, inside the enclosure, was an ancient graveyard, many of its white stones at rakish angles.

Penny studied the building with keen interest as she waited for Louise to catch up with her. Built generations earlier, the property first had been used by an order of Black Friars bound to the vows of poverty and obedience.

Later, the monastery had been taken over by an order of nuns, but as the buildings deteriorated, the property had been abandoned. For ten years now, it had stood unoccupied.

"Ugly old place!" puffed Louise, pausing beside her chum to catch her breath. "All the windows broken--why, that's funny!"

"What is?" demanded Penny.

"The windows aren't broken! They've been replaced!"

"Probably the owner did it to save his property from going completely to wreck and ruin. Wonder who owns the place anyhow?"

"The last I heard, it was sold at public auction for taxes. I think a real estate man bought it for a song."

"Then maybe he intends to fix it up for rent or sale," Penny remarked. "But who would want to live in that ancient shell? Somehow, the place gives me the creeps!"

Louise was staring hard at an upstairs window of the distant building.

"Penny!" she exclaimed. "I saw a moving light just then!"

"Where?"

Louise pointed to the window high on the stone wall of the monastery.

"I don't see anything," replied Penny. "You must have imagined it."

"I did not! The light is gone now. But I saw it plainly. It may have been from a lantern. Someone was moving from room to room!"

"Maybe it was a reflection of moonlight then." Undisturbed, Penny removed her skis. Carefully placing the running surfaces together, she threw them over her left shoulder.

Far away, in the city of Riverview, a tower clock began to chime the hour of midnight.

"Penny!" insisted Louise in a half-whisper. "I did see a light! Maybe the old monastery is haunted--"

"Now hush!" Penny silenced her. "What are you trying to do? Work up a case of nerves?"

"But--"

"Just climb out of those skis and come on, my pet." Penny moved briskly away. "We're late now."

"Wait for me!" Frantically, Louise fumbled with her ski irons. "Don't leave me here alone!"

"Then not another word about ghosts!" Penny chided.

However, she waited patiently until her chum had removed the skis. The two girls then walked rapidly toward the roadside where the car had been parked. No longer could they see the friendly campfire in the valley. As they drew closer to the monastery, towering pines blotted out the moonlight.

Like a powerful magnet, the old stone building drew their gaze.

Deep snow, glittering with an eerie blue lustre, lay heavy on the high boundary wall. In the deserted garden beyond the gatehouse, several statues also were covered with soft white shrouds.

Louise clutched her chum's hand and urged her to a faster pace.

Then suddenly, with one accord, the girls halted.

Directly ahead, at the front entrance to the monastery, a big rusty gate stood slightly ajar!

"It's open!" whispered Louise. "Why, never before have I seen that gate unlocked!"

For an instant, Penny too was slightly unnerved. But she replied steadily: "What of it? Perhaps someone has moved in."

While Louise watched uneasily, she walked to the gate, fingering the rusty chain which dangled in the snow.

Then boldly, she pushed the gate farther open.

"Don't go in there!" Louise warned, her voice sharp with anxiety. "Please come on."

Penny's ears were deaf to the plea. She stared intently at a trail of footprints which led from where she stood to a circular stone gatehouse only a few yards away. The marks were very large and had been made by a man's heavy boot.

"Lou--" she began, but the words froze on her lips.

From inside the monastery came a shrill, piercing scream. As the girls huddled together, the sound died slowly away.

Then a silence, even more terrifying, fell upon the grounds.

CHAPTER
2
_"NO TRESPASSING"_

"Someone _is_ inside that building!" Penny exclaimed, recovering from startled surprise.

Tensely, the girls waited, but the sound was not repeated.

"It was a woman's scream," Louise whispered after a moment. Nervously, she clung to her chum's hand as they stood in the shadow of the big iron gate. "What can be happening in there?"

Penny stared at the dark monastery, uncertain what to do. Nowhere was a light visible, yet she felt that not only was the building occupied, but also that alert eyes were watching them from somewhere in the gloomy interior.

"Someone may be in trouble and need help," she said in an unsteady voice. "Let's rap on the door and ask."

"At this time of night?" Louise tugged at her chum's hand, trying to pull her away. "Let's go, Penny! It's really none of our affair what goes on here."

"But someone may be ill and in need of a doctor."

"It wasn't that type of scream," Louise replied with a shiver. "That cry gave me the creeps!"

Penny allowed herself to be pulled from the gate, only to pause and gaze again at the darkened windows of the ancient monastery.

The only daughter of a newspaper owner, she had been trained to inquire the who, when, why, where, and how of anything unusual. Penny never willingly passed up an opportunity to obtain a good news story for the _Riverview Star_. She knew that if the old monastery were occupied after standing deserted so many years, the readers of her father's paper would be interested.

Furthermore, she reasoned, a scream from a darkened house, always called for investigation.

"Louise," she said with sudden decision. "We can't leave without trying to find out what's wrong here! I'm going inside!"

"Oh, Penny--please don't! This place is so far from other houses. If anything should happen--"

"Something _has_ happened," replied Penny grimly. "You wait here, Lou. I'll be right back."

Despite her chum's protest, she returned to the big iron gate, and pushing it farther open, stepped inside the grounds.

Intuition warned Penny to proceed cautiously. She sensed rather than saw a dark figure crouching in the arched doorway of the circular stone gatehouse to the right of the snow-banked driveway.

Before she could decide whether the form was real or a product of her imagination, a large, savage dog darted from inside the gatehouse. His low growl warned her it might be dangerous to attempt to pass.

"Come back!" Louise called anxiously. "He'll tear you apart!"

Though no coward, a second glance at the dog convinced Penny that the animal had been trained to guard the property. Rapidly, she backed away.

Her hand was on the latch of the gate, when in the gatehouse doorway, she beheld a grotesque, deformed human figure.

The sight so startled Penny that for an instant she forgot the dog.

Plainly silhouetted against the gray stone was a hulk of a man with large head and twisted back made unsightly by a hump.

Though his eyes were full upon the girl, he remained motionless, speaking no word.

"Call off your dog!" Penny said sharply.

Only then did the figure move from the doorway into the moonlight.

"Quiet, Bruno!" he ordered in a rasping voice. "Lie down!"

As the dog obeyed, Penny caught her first plain glimpse of the deformed man's face. His skin was heavily lined and fell in deep folds at his stocky neck. But it was the dark, intent eyes which sent a shiver down her spine.

"Good evening," she said uneasily.

The gateman did not respond to the greeting. Instead, he demanded gruffly:

"What you doin' on this property?"

"Why, I was only investigating because the gate was unlocked," replied Penny. "I didn't know the house was occupied."

"You know it now. See that sign!" The gateman turned on his flashlight, focusing it upon a freshly painted placard tacked to a nearby tree.

The sign read, "No Trespassing."

"I'm sorry," Penny apologized, but stood her ground. "Are you the new owner of this place?"

"No, I ain't. I'm the gateman."

"Then who has taken over the building?"

"What's it to you?" the hunchback demanded unpleasantly.

"I'm interested, that's all."

"This place is being turned into an institution," the hunchback informed her. "The new owner moved in yesterday. Now git along, so I can lock the gate."

The gateman's eagerness to be rid of her made Penny all the more determined to remain until her curiosity was satisfied.

"Perhaps I fancied it," she remarked, "but a moment ago, I thought I heard a shrill scream from inside the building."

"You may have heard the howl of the wind."

"What wind?" Penny inquired pointedly. "It's a comparatively quiet night. I distinctly heard a scream."

"Then you got better ears than I have," the gateman muttered. "Will you go now, or do you want me to call the master?"

"I wish you would!"

Grumbling to himself, the hunchback stepped into the gatehouse and pressed a button which rang a bell inside the building.

A light went on in a downstairs room, and a moment later the front door opened. Framed on the threshold stood a very tall man in dark, hooded robe.

"What's wrong, Winkey?" he called. "You rang?"

"There's a girl here wants to see you," shouted the hunchback. "She says she heard a scream and wants to know how-come."

Treading lightly in the loose snow, the thin man came down the driveway to the gate. His long, brown robes were impressive, his demeanor pious. Penny suddenly felt very foolish indeed.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a kindly, silken-smooth voice.

"This girl's tryin' to get in," announced Winkey. "Says she heard a scream."

The hooded monk studied Penny with an intent gaze.

"You live near here?" he inquired.

"In Riverview. I was out skiing with a few friends when I passed this old building and heard the scream. Your gateman tried to tell me it was only the wind."

"My child, doubtlessly you did hear a scream," the monk replied. "It was Old Julia, a poor woman, who unfortunately sometimes becomes disturbed in her mind."

"This isn't a mental institution?" gasped Penny, regretting that her curiosity ever had taken her inside the grounds.

"No, my child," responded the monk. "Winkey should have explained. We have opened up the old monastery for the purpose of restoring an ancient order in which members dedicate themselves to a life of poverty, good will, and charity."

"The one you call Old Julia--she also is a member?"

The monk sighed deeply. "Old Julia is only an unfortunate whose twisted mind never can be healed by doctors. Because she had no home--no friends, I have taken her beneath my roof."

"I see," nodded Penny. "I'm very sorry to have troubled you."

"A natural mistake, my child. Is there anything else you wish to know? We have no secrets here--only serene faith and hope for a better world."

"I might inquire your name."

"Members of my flock call me Father Benedict. My baptismal name is Jay Highland. And yours?"

"Penny Parker. My father owns the _Riverview Star_."

"A newspaper?" The monk's inquiry was sharp.

"One of the best in the city," Penny said proudly.

"Your father sent you here, perhaps?"

"Oh, no! I was just passing by and noticed the buildings were occupied."

"To be sure," murmured the monk. "I trust you will use discretion in mentioning our work here. Should we become too well known, a path will be beaten to our door, and the privacy of our order will be no more."

"I'll scarcely mention it," Penny half-heartedly promised. "Good night."

Retreating through the gate, she closed it behind her.

A few paces away, Louise, who had heard only part of the conversation, waited in the darkness.

"Who were those men?" she demanded, falling into step with her chum. "What did you learn?"

Penny repeated everything Jay Highland had told her.

"He seemed rather nice," she added. "But when you sum it up, he didn't tell much about the order he is founding here."

"And the scream?"

"Oh, he explained that. It seems an old woman named Julia lives in the institution. She's demented."

"Must be a nice place!" The girls now had reached the car and Louise stood aside for her chum to unlock the door. Quickly they stowed their skis and poles in the rear and then Penny started the motor which popped and sputtered in the frosty air.

"It's snowing again," she observed, switching on the windshield wiper. "We didn't get started a minute too soon."

Before the girls had traveled a quarter of a mile, huge, wet flakes pelted the glass. Once as the wiper stuck, Penny had to get out and clear the windshield with a handkerchief.

"This is really getting awful!" she exclaimed, as they drove slowly on along the narrow, curving country road. "I can hardly see."

"Be careful," Louise warned a moment later. "You're close to the ditch."

Penny brought the wheels back onto the main track. But a dozen yards farther on, she saw directly in her path, a bent figure struggling along under the weight of a heavy suitcase. Her head was held low against the wind and snow.

Unaware of the approaching car, the pedestrian was walking almost in the center of the road.

"Look out, Penny!" screamed Louise as she too saw the girl with the heavy burden. "You'll run her down!"

CHAPTER
3
_STRANGER OF THE STORM_

Penny swerved the steering wheel, missing the girl by inches. Somewhat shaken by the near-accident, she pulled up at the roadside.

"My, that was close!" exclaimed Louise. Lowering the side window of the coupe, she gazed curiously at the snowy figure, plodding through the drifts.

"Maybe we ought to offer her a lift to Riverview," said Penny. "Whoever she is, she shouldn't be walking alone at this time of night--and with a heavy suitcase too."

"But should we pick up a hitchhiker, Penny? It might not be safe."

"I don't like to do it as a rule, but this is different. It's storming hard and she looks about our age."

Debating no longer, Penny thrust her head through the window opening and called: "Want a ride?"

The girl with the suitcase had moved into the glare of the headlights. She turned toward the car with a startled expression. Penny and Louise saw that she was thinly clad in a light weight coat, and wore no galoshes.

To their astonishment, the girl shook her head and kept on walking.

"Well, what do you know!" exclaimed Penny. "She's more afraid to ride with us than we were to pick her up. She may not realize we're just a couple of school girls."

"She shouldn't be out in this storm dressed as she is," declared Louise, now concerned for the stranger. "Ask her again."

Penny shifted into low gear and pulled alongside. "Please, can't we give you a lift into the city?" she urged.

The girl stopped then, resting her suitcase in the roadway. A breath of wind swept a lock of dark hair across her thin face. Impatiently she brushed it aside and murmured: "No, no, thank you."

Penny would have driven on, but the voice held a hint of tears. It occurred to her that the girl might be running away from home--certainly she was bewildered and in trouble.

"Don't be foolish!" she exclaimed. "This snow is coming down heavier every minute. Of course, you want a ride." She flung the car door wide open.

A moment longer the girl hesitated. Then without a word, she swung the suitcase into the automobile and squeezed in beside Louise. However, she scarcely glanced at the girls, but centered her sober gaze on the snowflakes which danced across the windshield.

The car moved ahead. "Going far?" inquired Penny.

"I--I don't know."

"You don't know!" Penny twisted her head sideways to stare at the girl. She started to ask a question, then thinking better of it, remained silent.

Louise, however, could not allow the odd reply to pass unchallenged.

"Why, you must know where you're going!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean you have no home, or are running away?"

"I have a home," the girl replied shortly. "I only meant I haven't decided where I'll go or what I'll do when I reach Riverview. That's the name of the closest place, isn't it?"

Penny nodded. "Apparently, you come from some distance away," she remarked.

The girl made no reply.

"May we introduce ourselves?" said Louise, determined to learn the stranger's name. "This is Penny Parker, and I'm Louise Sidell."

Only by a brief nod did the girl acknowledge the introduction. She did not volunteer her own name. Her failure to do so, obviously was deliberate.

"Do you live near here?" Louise inquired.

The stranger squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't feel like answering questions. That's why I didn't want to accept a ride."

Louise took the reply for a rebuke. "I certainly didn't mean to be personal," she returned stiffly. "Excuse it, please. Dreadful weather!"

The topic fell flat. No further attempt at conversation was made.

Penny kept close watch of the road, for the heavy, wet snow made visibility very poor. She was greatly relieved when they reached the outskirts of the city and a wide boulevard which followed the curve of the frozen river.

Seeing the lights of Riverview, the strange girl began to watch the streets intently.

"Just let me out anywhere," she said presently.

"Anywhere?" Penny repeated.

"Will we pass the river docks on this road?"

"Yes, at the next turn."

"Then let me off there, please."

"The river docks!" exclaimed Louise. "At this time of night? No boats are running and there are no houses or business places close by. Only deserted fish houses and the like."

"Please, that's where I want to get off."

Penny and Louise gave up trying to figure out their strange passenger. At the next turn in the road, they pulled up near a dimly lighted street corner.

The girl opened the car door and reached for her suitcase.

"Thanks for the ride," she said in a low voice. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude and unfriendly. There are things I can't explain."

Before Penny or Louise could answer, the car door closed firmly in their faces.

"Well, how do you like that?" the latter demanded furiously. "If she isn't a cool cucumber!"

"She may be running away from home," Penny said, frowning. "Why otherwise, would she refuse to tell her name?"

"And why did she insist in getting out on this corner, of all places?"

"It's a bad section of town, Louise. No one seems to be about, but even so, a girl shouldn't be wandering around here alone."

"We tried to warn her. She seemed to know what she wanted to do."

"All the same, I feel sort of responsible," Penny returned uneasily. "I hope nothing happens to her."

After leaving the car, the girl walked toward the river. Now at the corner, she paused beneath a street light, and glanced back.

"She's waiting for us to go on!" Penny guessed shrewdly. "For some reason, she doesn't want anyone to know where she's going!"

"Then let's wait and watch!"

"We'll learn nothing that way. She can tell we're keeping our eye on her." Penny threw in the clutch and the car rolled away from the curb. "Tell you what, Lou! We'll drive around the block."

"Good idea!" approved her chum. "That way she'll think we've gone and we can see where she really goes."

Penny turned at the first corner and made a quick trip around the block. As they again came within view of the ice-locked river, the girls looked quickly up and down the street for a glimpse of their former passenger.

"There she is!" Louise cried. "Why, she's walking straight to the docks!"

The two girls now were completely mystified and not a little worried. At this late hour, the waterfront was deserted.

Penny watched the retreating figure for a moment, and then swung the car door open.

"That girl can't know what she's doing!" she decided. "I'm going after her!"

"For our pains, we may be told to mind our own affairs."

"That's beside the point, Lou. Something's wrong."

Without taking time to lock the car, the two girls hurried down the dark street toward the docks. Far ahead they could see the one they pursued walking swiftly. Then in the blinding, whirling snow, they lost sight of her.

Reaching the waterfront, Penny and Louise gazed about in disbelief and bewilderment. The girl had vanished.

"Now where could she have gone--" Penny murmured, only to break off as her gaze fell upon a trail of footsteps.

The prints led along the dock for a short distance, only to end at the river's edge.

CHAPTER
4
_VANISHING FOOTPRINTS_

"That crazy girl must have jumped off here!" Louise exclaimed, as she too saw the footprints on the snowy planks.

"The river is solid ice--at least six inches thick," Penny pointed out. "She couldn't have crashed through."

"Then where did she go?"

Far upstream toward the Main Street Bridge, an iceboat could be seen tacking back and forth. Otherwise, the river was a gleaming ribbon of deserted ice.

"The only place she could have gone is under the dock," Penny said, her eyebrows knitting into a puzzled frown.

"_Under_ it?"

"That's what she must have done," Penny insisted. "I suppose the planking would give some protection from the storm."

The snow was coming down harder now than ever, in huge flakes. Trailing the footprints to the dock's edge, Penny flattened herself on the planks and peered over the side.

"I can't see a thing!" she complained. "Dark as pitch!"

"Listen!" commanded Louise.

Both girls became quiet. Distinctly they could hear a faint creak of snow as someone walked beneath the dock, a long distance away.

"Hello, down there!" shouted Penny.

The creaking sound ceased. But no one answered the call.

"If she's down there, she'll never answer!" Louise said, thoroughly disgusted. "Should we go after her?"

Penny was sorely tempted. She studied the long, high dock only to shake her head.

"If once we get down there, we couldn't climb up again without walking a long distance, Lou."

"Then what should we do?"

"Let's call the police station," Penny urged. Scrambling to her feet, she brushed snow from her ski suit. "This is a case for them to investigate."

"That's what I think," agreed Louise, greatly relieved. "I know my parents wouldn't want me prowling under the docks at night."

Pelted by fast falling snow, the two friends returned to the parked car and then drove to a drugstore several blocks away. Penny telephoned Central Police Station, only to be informed a car could not be sent to the river for a few minutes. Heavy snow had snarled traffic, causing many accidents and tying up police personnel.

For twenty minutes the girls waited patiently in their car, but no one came to investigate. At last, giving up in disgust, they drove to their homes.

Try as she would, Penny could not forget the strange girl with the suitcase who had been so unwilling to answer questions. Who was she? And why had she taken refuge beneath the river docks?

She longed to talk the matter over with her father, but Mr. Parker had gone to bed early.

Penny kept thinking about the matter until she fell asleep and it was foremost in her thoughts when she awoke in the morning.

"Wonder if the _Riverview Star_ carried any mention of a police investigation at the river?" she mused.

Dressing rapidly, she ran downstairs to bring the morning paper in from the porch. Eagerly she scanned the pages.

"Not a single word here!" she exclaimed in disappointment. "Maybe the police didn't even bother to search the dock area."

To make certain, she telephoned Captain Brownell, a personal friend at Central Station. The officer explained that a police car had been dispatched to the river shortly after one o'clock. Footprints noted earlier by the two girls, had been blotted out by falling snow. No one had been found loitering in the area.

"Well, that's that," sighed Penny, turning away from the telephone. "I wish now, Lou and I had taken a chance and prowled under the dock."

From the breakfast alcove, Anthony Parker, a tall, lean man with iron gray hair and intelligent eyes, regarded his daughter in amusement.

"Talking to yourself again, Penny?" he teased.

"I am!" Penny slid into a chair beside her father and reached for a tall glass of orange juice. "The things I'm thinking about the police department aren't complimentary either! What this town needs is a larger force and at least a dozen extra patrol cars!"

"You could find plenty of work for them, I judge."

"Couldn't I? A nice situation when police are too busy to investigate an important call promptly!"

"So they gave you the run-around," teased Mr. Parker. "Suppose you tell me what happened."

Starting at the very beginning, Penny told of hearing the strange cry at the old monastery and later, the meeting with the unfriendly girl who had disappeared near the river docks.

While she related her odd experiences, Mrs. Maud Weems, the family housekeeper, came in bearing a platter of scrambled eggs. Since the death of Penny's mother, the woman had cared for the girl as her own daughter.

She listened attentively to the tale of adventure, and with obvious disapproval.

"In my opinion, that's what comes of midnight skiing parties!" she interrupted the story. "I hope you stay away from Knob Hill and the monastery after this."

"Oh, Mrs. Weems!" Penny's elfin face lost a little of its excited glow. "This wonderful skiing weather can't last many days! I simply must go back there!"

"To ski or to investigate the monastery?" asked the housekeeper. "If I know the signs, you're hot on the trail of another mystery!"

"Naturally I want to learn more about that strange cult," grinned Penny. "Who knows, I might track down a bang-up story for Dad's paper!"

"Skiing always seemed a wholesome sport to me," interposed Mr. Parker, winking slyly at his daughter. "Of course, I don't approve of late hours."

Mrs. Weems sighed as she set the egg platter down hard on the table. "You two always conspire against me!" she accused.

"Why, Mrs. Weems!" Penny observed innocently. "Don't you approve of skiing?"

"Skiing is only an excuse and you know it, Penelope Parker! Oh, dear, I try so hard to raise you properly."

"And you're doing a magnificent job, if I do say so myself," chuckled Penny. "Don't give the matter any further thought!"

"Penny always has proven she uses her head and knows how to take care of herself," added Mr. Parker. "An inquisitive mind is an asset--especially in the newspaper business."

With an injured sniff, Mrs. Weems retreated to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Alone with her father, Penny grinned at him affectionately. His defense of her conduct meant only one thing! He did not disapprove of her interest in the monastery at Knob Hill.

"He's giving me the 'go' signal!" she thought jubilantly. Aloud she said. "Dad, don't you think Jay Highland and the monastery might be worth a feature story in the _Riverview Star_?"

"Possibly," he agreed, getting up from the table. "Well, I must move along to the office."

A little disappointed because her father had brushed the subject aside so lightly, Penny spent the morning helping Mrs. Weems with household tasks. However, directly after luncheon she packed her skis and prepared to set off for Knob Hill.

Unwilling to go alone, Penny stopped at the Sidell home. To her disappointment, Louise had gone shopping and was not expected back for several hours.

"Maybe I can induce Dad to go with me!" she thought. "He spends entirely too much time indoors. An outing will do him good!"

At the _Star_ plant in the heart of downtown Riverview, Penny wandered through a nearly deserted editorial room to her father's office. For a morning paper the hour was early, and few reporters had as yet unhooded their typewriters.

Through the glass door Penny observed that her father had a visitor, a middle-aged, intelligent looking man she had never seen before. She would have slipped away had her father not motioned for her to enter.

"Penny, this is James Ayling, an investigator for the Barnes Mutual Insurance Co.," he said. "My daughter, Mr. Ayling."

The visitor arose to grasp the girl's hand firmly.

"Mr. Ayling is from Boston," explained the newspaper owner. He turned to the investigator. "Do you mind if I tell my daughter why you are here?"

"Not at all."

"Mr. Ayling is trying to locate an elderly woman whose family jewels are heavily insured with his company."

"Mrs. Hawthorne isn't actually our client," explained Mr. Ayling. "Originally, old Nathaniel Hawthorne, her late husband, insured a $100,000 star sapphire with us. The policy remains in effect until the gem becomes the possession of a granddaughter, Rhoda."

"Who has the sapphire now?" asked Penny, slightly puzzled.

"Mr. Hawthorne's will allows his wife the use of it during her lifetime. Upon her death it passes to the sixteen-year-old granddaughter, Rhoda Hawthorne."

"And you are searching for Mrs. Hawthorne now?" Penny inquired politely.

"Yes, so far as we know Mrs. Hawthorne has the gem. We are afraid it may be stolen from her or that she will dispose of it for a trifling sum. Mrs. Hawthorne hasn't been well and in her present state of mind she might act very foolishly."

"Tell Penny about the gem's history," suggested Mr. Parker.

"Oh, yes! The sapphire once was set in a necklace worn by a king who met violent death. Since then, there is a superstition that bad luck pursues the owner.

"The gem passed through many hands. Three times it was stolen. Several owners died strange or violent deaths."

"Not Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Well, he fell from a cliff while touring the West," explained the investigator. "Of course it was an accident, but Mrs. Hawthorne unfortunately became convinced his death resulted from ownership of the sapphire.

"She pleaded that the gem be sold for what it would bring, fearing that harm would come upon her grandchild when eventually the sapphire is turned over to her. According to terms of the will, the gem cannot be sold, and our firm must remain responsible for it in case of theft or loss."

"Mrs. Hawthorne still has the gem then?"

"We hope so," Mr. Ayling replied. "She went South on a vacation trip with her granddaughter, taking the sapphire with her. That was over a month ago. Nothing since has been heard from them."

"But what brings you to Riverview?" questioned Penny.

"I went South searching for Mrs. Hawthorne. At Miami only a week ago she bought two tickets for Riverview. From that point on, I've been unable to trace her."

"Does she have relatives or friends here?"

"Not so far as I've been able to learn. Perhaps our company is unduly concerned, but the truth is, Mrs. Hawthorne is a very foolish, gullible woman. Should she dispose of or lose the gem, our firm must pay a large sum of money."

"We'll be glad to run a picture of Mrs. Hawthorne in the paper," offered Mr. Parker. "If she has arrived in Riverview, someone will have seen her."

"I certainly appreciate your interest," said Mr. Ayling. "Unfortunately, I have no photograph of Mrs. Hawthorne with me. I'll wire my office tonight for one."

"In the meantime, we'll run a little story," the publisher promised. "No doubt you can describe the woman."

"Oh, yes, in a general way. She's 68 years of age and walks with a cane. Her hair is white and she weighs about 150 pounds. She's deeply interested in art. Also in spiritualism and mystic cults, I regret to add."

"Mystic cults!" Penny's blue eyes began to dance with interest. She knew now why her father had made a point of calling her in to meet the investigator.

"Mrs. Hawthorne is very gullible and easily influenced. Since her husband died, she has been prey for one sharper after another. I judge a third of her fortune already has been squandered."

After a thoughtful pause, Penny hesitantly asked Mr. Ayling if he thought it possible Mrs. Hawthorne could have come to Riverview to join a cult.

"That's what I'm here to find out. Mrs. Hawthorne and her granddaughter have not registered at any of the leading hotels. Yet I know they came to the city."

"Have you tried the monastery at Knob Hill?" Penny suggested. "A new society has been established there in the last few days. I don't know much about the order yet, but its members are supposed to dedicate themselves to a life of charity and poverty."

"Why, that's exactly the sort of thing to attract Mrs. Hawthorne--for a few weeks," the investigator replied. "Then after the novelty wore off, she would flit on to something else. Where is this place?"

"I plan to drive out there in a few minutes," Penny told him eagerly. "Why not come with me, Mr. Ayling?"

The investigator glanced inquiringly at Mr. Parker.

"Go ahead if you think it's worth while," urged the publisher.

"I suppose the chance of finding Mrs. Hawthorne there is very remote," Mr. Ayling said, thinking aloud. "But I can't afford to overlook any possibility. Thanks, Miss Parker, I'll gladly accept your invitation."

"Want to come along, Dad?" Penny asked.

"No thanks," he declined. "I'm certain you'll be in good hands. Just let Mr. Ayling take the lead in any investigation."

"Why, Dad!" Penny protested. "You know me."

"I do, indeed," said Mr. Parker, smiling as he resumed his desk work. "That's why I feel confident Mr. Ayling may look forward to a very interesting afternoon."

CHAPTER
5
_A CRYSTAL BALL_

Pine trees and bushes hung in frozen arches along the winding road which led to the ancient monastery.

Parking the automobile near the iron boundary fence, Penny was quick to note that the big ornamental gate now was locked and securely fastened with chain and padlock.

"Are you sure this place is occupied?" Mr. Ayling asked as he alighted and followed Penny to the gate. "Why, the property is a wreck!"

"The gate was unlocked last night," the girl replied. "We may have trouble getting inside."

Pressing her face against the rusty iron spikes, she gazed hopefully toward the gatehouse. The door was slightly ajar. Winkey, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Ayling rattled the gate chain several times.

"No one seems to be around," he said in disappointment.

"Yes, there is!" Penny corrected.

Just then she caught a fleeting glimpse of a face at the tiny circular window of the gatehouse. She was convinced it was Winkey, who for some reason, intended to ignore their presence at the gate.

"Let us in!" she called.

"Open up!" shouted Mr. Ayling.

Still there was no rustle of life from the gatehouse.

"Disgusting!" Penny muttered. "I know Winkey is watching us! He's only being contrary!"

Mr. Ayling's angular jaw tightened. "In that case," he said, "we'll have to get in the best way we can. I'll climb over the fence."

The words purposely were spoken loudly enough to be overheard in the gatehouse. Before the investigator could carry out his threat, the door of the circular, stone building swung back. Winkey, the hunchback, sauntered leisurely out.

"Want somethin'?" he inquired.

"Didn't you hear us trying to get in?" Mr. Ayling demanded.

"Sure," the hunchback shrugged, "but I was busy fixin' the bell that connects with the house. Anyhow, visitors ain't wanted here."

"So we observe," said Mr. Ayling. "Where is your master?"

"Inside."

"Then announce us," the investigator ordered. "We're here to ask a few questions."

Winkey's bird-like eyes blinked rapidly. He looked as if about to argue, then changed his mind.

"Go on to the house then," he said crossly. "I'll let 'em know by phone you're comin'."

The driveway curled through a large outer courtyard where a cluster of small and interesting buildings stood in various stages of ruin.

Near the gatehouse was the almonry, a shelter used in very early days to house visitors who sought free lodging.

Beyond were the ancient brewhouse, bakehouse, and granary. The latter two buildings now were little more than heaps of fallen brick. None of the structures was habitable.

In far better state of preservation was the central building with gabled roof and tall hooded chimneys. However, front steps long since had fallen away from the entrance doorway. Bridging the gap was a short ladder.

"What a place!" commented Mr. Ayling offering Penny his hand to help her across. "Looks as if it might cave in any day."

The visitors found themselves facing a weather-beaten but beautifully carved wooden doorway. Before they could knock, it opened on squeaky hinges.

A woman with heavily lined face, who wore a gray gown and white lace cap, peered out at them.

"Go away!" she murmured in a stage whisper. "Go quickly!"

"Julia!" said a voice directly behind her.

The woman whirled around and cringed as a brown-robed monk took her firmly by the arm.

"Go and light a fire in the parlor, Julia," her master directed. "I will greet our guests."

"Yes, Father Benedict," the woman muttered, scurrying away.

The master now turned apologetically to the visitors.

"I trust my servant was not rude," he said. "Poor creature! Her twisted mind causes her to believe that all persons who do not dwell within our walls are evil and to be feared."

As the monk spoke, he smiled in a kindly, friendly way, yet his keen eyes were appraising the two visitors. Though it was cold and windy on the door step, he did not hasten to invite Penny and Mr. Ayling inside. He stood holding the half-opened door in his hand.

"You must excuse our lack of hospitality," he said, fingering a gold chain which hung from his thin shoulders. "We have much cleaning and remodeling to do before we are ready to receive visitors."

Mr. Ayling explained that his call was one of business, adding that he represented the Barnes Mutual Insurance Co.

"Such matters must be discussed with me later," the monk said, slowly but firmly closing the door.

"I'm not selling insurance," Mr. Ayling assured him. Deliberately he leaned against the jamb, preventing the monk from shutting the door.

Father Benedict bit his lip in annoyance. "May I inquire your business with me?" he asked frostily.

"I'm seeking to trace a client--Mrs. Nathaniel Hawthorne."

"I know of no such person. Deeply I regret that I cannot help you, sir. If you will excuse me--"

"The woman may have used an assumed name," Mr. Ayling cut in. "She has a weakness--er, I mean a liking for cult practices."

"You are suggesting this woman may have joined my little flock?"

"That's the general idea."

"Absurd!" The monk's gaze rested briefly on Penny as he added: "I greatly fear you have been led astray by loose gossip as to the nature of the order I am founding here."

"I told Mr. Ayling about your work because I think it's so interesting," Penny said quickly. She slapped her mittened hands together. "My, it's cold today! May we warm ourselves at your fire before we start back to town?"

A frown puckered Father Benedict's eyebrows. Plainly the request displeased him. But with a show of hospitality, he said:

"Our abode is very humble and poorly furnished. Such as it is, you are welcome." Bowing slightly, he stepped aside to admit the visitors.

Penny and Mr. Ayling found themselves in a long, barren, and very cold hallway.

"Follow me, please," bade the monk.

Moving on the bare boards with noiseless tread, he led them through an arched doorway cut in the thick wall, across a wind-swept pillared cloister and into a parlor where a fire burned brightly in a huge, time-blackened fireplace.

The sheer comfort of the room surprised Penny. Underfoot was a thick velvet carpet. Other furnishings included a large mahogany desk, a sofa, two easy chairs, and a cabinet filled with fine glassware, gold and silver objects, and a blue glass decanter of wine.

Black velvet curtains were draped in heavy folds over an exit door, and similar hangings covered the windows. To Penny's astonishment, the ceiling, painted black, was studded with silver stars.

However, the object which held her roving gaze was a large crystal ball supported on the claws of a bronze dragon.

"You are a crystal gazer!" Mr. Ayling exclaimed as he too noted the curious globe.

"I have the power to read the future with reasonable accuracy," replied the monk. He dismissed the subject with a shrug, motioning for his guests to seat themselves before the fire.

"You spoke of searching for a Mrs. Rosenthorne--" he remarked, addressing the investigator.

"Mrs. Hawthorne," corrected Mr. Ayling.

"To be sure, Mrs. Hawthorne. Apparently you were under the misapprehension that she is in some way connected with this establishment."

"It was only a hope. My client has a deep interest in cults. I traced Mrs. Hawthorne and her granddaughter to Riverview, and thought possibly they might have been attracted to your place."

"My little flock is limited to only twelve members at present. All are very humble people who have sworn to live a life of poverty, devoted to charity and faith. We have no Mrs. Hawthorne here."

"Mightn't she have given another name?" suggested Penny. She stretched her cold fingers to the leaping flames on the hearth.

"I hardly think so." Father Benedict's lips curled in a superior smile. "Describe the woman, please."

Mr. Ayling repeated the description Penny had heard earlier that afternoon.

"We have no such person here," the monk said. "I regret I am unable to help you."

He arose, a plain hint that he considered the brief interview at an end. Somewhat reluctantly, Penny and her companion also turned their backs upon the crackling fire.

"You have made a comfortable place of this room," the girl said. Her gaze fastened admiringly upon a porcelain decanter in a wall cabinet. "And such interesting antiques!"

For the first time since the visitors had arrived, Father Benedict's eyes sparkled with warmth.

"Collecting art treasures is a hobby of mine," he revealed. Crossing to the cabinet, he removed the decanter.

"This is a piece of Ching-Hoa porcelain and very rare," he said. "And here is a Byzantine amulet--priceless. The golden goblets came from a European church destroyed a century ago."

"You're not afraid to keep such treasures in the monastery?" Mr. Ayling inquired.

"Afraid?" Father Benedict's dark eyes glittered with a strange light. "I must confess I know not the meaning of the word."

"You are so far out, I don't suppose you can expect much police protection," Mr. Ayling added.

"Winkey, my gateman, is quite dependable. While he is on duty, no thief or unwanted stranger will enter our grounds."

"Winkey is good at keeping folks out," agreed the investigator dryly. In walking toward the door, he paused to gaze again at the crystal ball.

"My glass interests you?" inquired the monk.

"I've seen those things before, but never took stock in them," rejoined Mr. Ayling. "One can't actually conjure up pictures by gazing into that globe?"

"Would you care to see for yourself?"

"Well, it's a little out of my line," Mr. Ayling laughed.

"I'd like to try it!" cried Penny. "May I?"

"Certainly. The principle is very simple. One merely gazes deeply into the glass until the optic nerve of the eye becomes fatigued. As it ceases to transmit impression from without, one sees events of the future."

"I've heard it explained a little differently," said Mr. Ayling. "As the optic nerve becomes paralyzed, it responds to the reflex action proceeding from the brain of the crystal gazer. One sees what one wishes to see."

"I do not agree!" Father Benedict's voice was sharp. "The ball accurately foretells the future. Shall we test and prove its powers?"

"Let me try it!" pleaded Penny again.

Smiling a bit grimly, the monk extinguished an overhead light and touched a match to the wick of two tall white candles.

Placing the crystal ball in front of a black screen, he set the burning tapers at either side. Penny suddenly began to lose zest for the adventure.

But before she could think of a graceful way to announce that she had changed her mind, the monk took her firmly by the arm.

"Place your hands on either side of the crystal ball," he directed. "Gaze deep into the glass. Deep--deep. And now my little one, what do you see?"

CHAPTER
6
_CREAKING WOOD_

As Penny peered down into the highly polished surface of the crystal clear glass, a multitude of dancing points of light drew and held her attention.

"Gaze deep--deeper," intoned the monk. "Do you not see a picture forming?"

"The glass has become cloudy."

"Ah, yes. In a moment it will clear. Now what do you see?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Father Benedict tapped the toe of his slipper impatiently. "You are resisting the glass," he muttered. "You do not believe."

Penny continued to stare fixedly into the crystal ball. "It's no use," she said finally, pulling her eyes away. "Guess I haven't enough of the witch in me!"

She stepped back from the dragon standard on which the globe stood, and for a minute was stone blind.

"I can't see a thing!" she gasped in alarm.

"The optic nerve is paralyzed," said the monk, steadying her as she swayed slightly. "Vision will be normal in a moment."

"I'm beginning to distinguish objects now," Penny admitted, reassured.

The monk released her arm. Seating himself before the crystal globe, he placed his hands on the polished surface.

"Now shall I try?" he suggested. "What would you like to know about the future?"

"You might find Mrs. Hawthorne for me," the investigator said in jest.

In the darkened room, Father Benedict's hooded face looked grotesque as light from the tall tapers flickered upon his angular jaw bones.

The moment was impressive. A tomb-like silence had fallen upon the three, and the only sound was the crackle of the fire.

Then, quite suddenly, Penny was certain she heard another noise. Though the occasion should not have been one for alarm, she felt her skin prickle. A tiny chill caused her to shiver.

Or was it a chill? Against her cheek she felt a breath of icy wind. Somewhere beyond the room a door had opened. Unmistakably, she heard the creak of old wood.

Penny's startled gaze roved to Mr. Ayling. Oblivious to all else, the investigator was watching Father Benedict closely.

Every sense now alert, the girl listened intently. Had someone stepped on a loose board as he crept along the passageway? Or had she merely heard the old house groaning to itself?

The creaking sound was not repeated.

Trying to throw off the pall which had fallen upon her, Penny centered her full attention upon the monk. As one hypnotized by the glass into which he peered, he mumbled words difficult to understand.

"Now the ball is clearing," he muttered. "What is this? I see a resort city on the sea coast--the rush and roar of waves. Ah, a beach! On the sand are two bathers--one a girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen with dark hair. She wears a green bathing suit. Upon her third finger is a black cameo ring."

A startled look came upon Mr. Ayling's face, but he made no comment.

"Her companion is an elderly woman," continued the monk as if speaking in a trance. "Over her shoulders is flung a dark blue beach cape. The picture is fading now--I am losing the vision."

Penny's attention, wandering again, was drawn as if by a powerful magnet to the curtains covering the exit.

In fascination, she watched. An inch at a time, the door moved outward. Then a hand appeared between the black velvet draperies, cautiously pulling them apart.