“He made a study of it, and for a year gathered material by living in the jungle.” Lorinda suddenly broke off, aware that she was warming to Penny and telling her entirely too much.
“Then it was your father who built the thatched roof cottage?”
“Please, let’s not talk about it,” Lorinda pleaded. “I don’t like to be unfriendly or impolite, but you must understand there are things I can’t tell you, and which must never be published.”
Taking the ancient bow from Penny’s hand, the girl started up the path, limping a trifle on her twisted ankle.
“Only one more question, Lorinda. Please tell me the truth. Why were you afraid to have me investigate the thatched roof cottage?”
The girl paused on the path, gazing at Penny quite pathetically.
“Don’t ask me to tell you any more,” she whispered. “The cottage is a place of evil omen. Truly, I did you a favor in warning you away.”
“I saw a painting on the door—that of a winged or plumed serpent. Will you explain its significance?”
“I only know that my stepfather had it painted there when the cottage was built soon after his marriage to my mother. It is a symbol of one of the ancient cults he studied. Many of his trophies bear the same picture.”
The information was a little disappointing to Penny. “Then I suppose the drawing that the police found in Mr. Rhett’s office had no great significance,” she remarked.
“Drawing?”
Penny described the serpent picture which had been found, adding: “On the sheet were written the words:‘This shall be the end.’”
“You are certain?”
“Oh, yes, I saw the paper myself.”
Lorinda was visibly disturbed. “I must see that writing! It may mean—” she broke off and amended:“Tell me, where is the paper now?”
“The police have it.”
“Oh!”
“Why do you seem to fear the police?” inquired Penny curiously.
“I am not afraid of them—certainly not. It’s just that Mother and I prefer to keep our lives private. Facts can be so easily misinterpreted.”
“Your reluctance to assist the police also can be misinterpreted,” said Penny. “For instance, it seems strange to me that your stepfather’s disappearance doesn’t seem to disturb you.”
“Oh, it does! It’s only—well, there are things I can’t tell you without my mother’s permission. My stepfather is queer. Mother and I never liked his interest in weird cult practices. He had so many strange acquaintances and ties with the past. We always were afraid something dreadful might happen.”
“Then he may have met foul play?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Lorinda said miserably. “A ten-day disappearance is not so serious. My stepfather occasionally went away before without telling us, though never for such a long period. If it weren’t for the paper found in his desk, and the missing bonds, I would say it’s much ado about nothing.”
“As it is—?”
“The loss of $250,000 could be a very serious matter. Tell me, what is your name?”
“Penny Parker.”
“You’re here only to get a story for your paper?”
“That was why I came, but since meeting you I truthfully can say I also am very much interested in helping you if possible.”
“I like you,” Lorinda declared with a quick smile. “I’m sorry about the arrow. And I was very rude.”
“Not at all. I deliberately egged you on, hoping you would tell me about your stepfather. I was sent here to get a picture of him, and I hate to fail.”
“A picture? Mother has one, but I doubt that she would permit you to use it.” Lorinda considered a moment, then added: “Tell you what! I’ll take you to her, and perhaps, if you’re a convincing talker, she’ll agree to your request.”
“Oh, Lorinda, that’s fine!”
The Rhett girl linked arms with Penny as they trudged up the path to the house.
“Don’t count your chickens just yet,” she warned. “Mother doesn’t like reporters. It will be sheer luck if she gives you the picture or any information you can use in the paper.”
CHAPTER 5
AN EVIL CHARM
“Mother has disliked reporters ever since she married my stepfather, two years ago,” Lorinda confided as the girls approached the house. “We were in the Eastern part of the country at the time, and papers played up the story, suggesting that Mr. Rhett was a fortune hunter.”
“Then he had no money of his own?”
“Not a great deal. You see, my stepfather loved travel, and until he met Mother he never really settled down. He made a little by writing magazine articles, and he spent it roving about the country and exploring far corners of the world.”
“It must have been an interesting life,” Penny commented politely. “Your mother enjoyed travel too?”
“Oh, mercy no! One hardly can get her away from Riverview. She and my stepfather never traveled together after they were married.”
Penny gathered that Mr. and Mrs. Rhett were entirely different types of individuals, but she asked no additional questions, for by this time, the girls had reached the house.
Crossing a stone terrace at the rear of the dwelling, they entered a spacious living room furnished with elegant though formal furniture. Shades were partially drawn, giving the interior a gloomy atmosphere, despite the vases of brightly colored chrysanthemums which decorated the tables.
A woman with dark hair tinged with gray sat reading a book. She was immaculately groomed, every curl of an elaborate hair-do in place, but her face lacked tranquility. Her eyes were not on the page before her, Penny noted, and as the two girls came in, she visibly started.
“Oh, it’s you, Lorinda,” she murmured in relief. “I declare, I am getting jumpy! For a moment I thought it might be the police or that inquisitive reporter—”
“Mother,” interposed Lorinda hastily, “allow me to present Penny Parker, from the Riverview Star.”
Mrs. Rhett laid aside the book and stared at Penny, her face without expression. Her voice was cold as she spoke.
“From the Star? Lorinda, I am very sorry, but you know my feeling in this matter.”
“Penny really is very nice, Mother,” Lorinda said, flashing her companion an encouraging smile. “She didn’t want to come out here and question us about father, but the editor sent her. He wants a picture, too.”
Mrs. Rhett arose to terminate an interview which had never really begun. “I am sorry,” she repeated with emphasis. “There are to be no pictures taken.”
“The editor especially wanted a photograph of your husband,” Penny said. “By publishing it in the paper, it may be easier to trace him.”
“Miss Parker,” replied Mrs. Rhett pleasantly but with no warmth, “if I need assistance in locating my husband I shall request it. Meanwhile, I do wish people would not concern themselves with our affairs.”
“Mother, we may not be able to avoid publicity,”Lorinda rushed on. “There’s likely to be a scandal. You see, $250,000 in negotiable bonds disappeared from the bank.”
For a moment, Mrs. Rhett did not speak. A dagger-type paper cutter lay on the polished table beside her. Nervously her fingers closed upon it, and unaware of the act, she jabbed the sharp point several times through a lace doily centerpiece.
“Mother, you’re ruining that!”
Mrs. Rhett dropped the paper cutter, which clattered on the table and tumbled to the floor. Without picking it up, she moved restlessly to the window, only to return.
“What were you saying about $250,000 in bonds, Lorinda?” she asked. “Surely you didn’t mean—”
“I only know what Penny told me. Soon after Father disappeared, Albert Potts discovered the bonds also were missing.”
“There can be no connection. Why, even the suggestion that my husband would steal is ridiculous! It’s preposterous!”
“No one has accused your husband,” Penny said quietly. “Perhaps the bonds will b
e found. Now that the police have stepped into the case, there should be developments.”
“The police,” repeated Mrs. Rhett with a shiver. “Oh, dear, must we suffer their interference!”
A telephone in an adjoining room rang and Lorinda started to answer it. But her mother signalled to her.
“Let it go, Lorinda. It may be the police now, or another reporter. We’ll have nothing to say.”
The telephone rang again. Footsteps were heard down a hallway and a well-built, dark-skinned house-worker of middle age padded into the room. She gazed with intent curiosity at Penny as she started toward the library to answer the phone.
“No, let it ring, Celeste,” Mrs. Rhett directed. “And if anyone comes to the door asking for me, remember, I am not at home.”
“Yes’m,” mumbled the housekeeper. She bent to pick up the paper cutter from the floor and as she did so an object which was tied about her neck with a cord and kept hidden beneath her starched uniform, swung into view.
Penny obtained only a fleeting glimpse of the curious article, for the woman hastily thrust it into her dress front again. However, it appeared to be a tiny packet of cloth.
Lorinda also had observed the object. Fixing the woman with a stern gaze she said: “Celeste, you’re wearing one of those heathenish ouange charms again! You promised Mother you wouldn’t!”
“This only keeps away bad sickness,” the woman retorted, with a slight accent which nevertheless made her words hard to understand. “A good ouange. Now that my master is away, you are not to tell me what to do.”
“Lorinda, don’t plague her,” Mrs. Rhett said wearily. “We have enough trouble as it is. Let her wear the charm, or a dozen of them, if it gives her any satisfaction.”
Lorinda subsided into injured silence, while Celeste flashed a triumphant smile.
Mrs. Rhett turned again to Penny. In a tone which could be interpreted only as a final dismissal she said:“I am sorry, Miss Parker, that I cannot help you. At present I do not know my husband’s whereabouts or why he went away. If you will excuse me now, I shall go to my room for a rest.”
With dignity she crossed the living room to a handsome circular stairway with a railing of polished mahogany. Her head held proudly, she presented a regal figure as she slowly climbed the steps.
But half way up, she suddenly halted, her body jerking taut. Uttering a low cry which was almost a scream, she stared at an object lying on the step in front of her.
“Why, Mother! What’s wrong?” cried Lorinda.
With Penny and Celeste, she hastened to the staircase. Mrs. Rhett’s face was as colorless as if she had seen a ghost. Her lips trembled. Without speaking, she pointed to the stair carpet.
There at her feet lay two burnt match ends tied together with a bit of scarlet string.
“An ouange! An evil ouange!” whispered Celeste in horror.
Lorinda turned upon her angrily.
“Celeste, don’t say such things! You know how nervous Mother is, and how easily she becomes upset! If this is one of your charms—”
“No! No!” the woman protested. She stared fixedly at the object on the floor. “This charm is not mine and it is not Antón’s!”
“Then how did it get here?”
“I do not know. It is a sign of evil—a sign of death.”
“Superstition!” exclaimed Lorinda.
Mrs. Rhett started on up the stairs, but as she would have stepped over the burned matches, Celeste seized her by the skirt, pulling her backwards. Frightened, the woman screamed and fell heavily against the wall.
Celeste kept her from collapsing, all the while muttering words Penny could not understand.
“Stop that gibberish!” Lorinda commanded.
Mrs. Rhett broke away from Celeste, and with an hysterical cry, moved down the stairway and into the library. Though she closed the door behind her, the girls could hear her sobs.
“Now see what you’ve done!” Lorinda accused Celeste.
The woman paid no attention to her. Bending over the match sticks, she swayed back and forth as she muttered a strange chant. As Lorinda sought to pick up the charm, Celeste struck her wrist a sharp blow.
“Fool!” she exclaimed. “Would you let your mother die a slow and painful death? Do not touch this thing of evil until I have finished! If she had stepped over it, nothing would have saved her.”
Celeste kept on with her mutterings until at last she was through. “I have done all I can,” she said with a deep sigh. Gingerly she picked up the match ends and, dropping them into the living room fireplace, saw them consumed by flame.
“Now what is all this stupidity about Mother dying a slow death?” Lorinda demanded sternly. “How did that thing get into this house, and what does it mean?”
“How it came here I do not know,” replied the woman. “Its meaning is simple. In the jungles such symbols are sometimes placed on new graves, that the departing spirit may kindle a little fire and warm its cold hands in the other world.”
“That’s enough!” interrupted Lorinda. “Don’t tell me any more. It’s all so silly.”
“It is the truth.”
“Well, true or false, Mother is not to be told such nonsense. She’s upset enough as it is.”
“Your mother already knows,” said the housekeeper. “That is why she weeps. She fears that even now the spell is upon her.”
“Celeste, you must be out of your mind!” Lorinda cried in exasperation. “You never said such dreadful things or acted like this when Father was here. What has taken possession of you?”
“I fear for the family. It bodes ill that my master should remain away. If only the Zudi drum were out of the house—destroyed—”
Lorinda’s patience had been overtaxed. “The Zudi drum!” she cried. “Oh, Celeste, you’re impossible! Go find Antón and if you must, talk such nonsense to him! But not another word of it before us! Do you understand?”
Celeste stood facing the two girls defiantly. Her eyes burned with an angry fire, and Penny expected her to make a bitter retort to Lorinda. Instead, she seemed to withdraw into herself, and with downcast head, scurried toward the kitchen.
CHAPTER 6
MATCHES AND STRING
After Celeste had gone, Lorinda went quickly to the library. Speaking soothingly to her mother, she urged her to go upstairs and lie down.
“That dreadful thing on the steps!” Mrs. Rhett exclaimed with a shudder. “Celeste jerked me back to keep me from walking past it, didn’t she? The charm has an evil significance—perhaps that I shall have a long lingering illness or die.”
“You know better than that, Mother. It’s all superstitious rot! What ever gave you such an idea?”
“Why, I don’t really know, Lorinda. I suppose Hamilton told me about the charm long ago. When I saw it on the step it gave me a deep shock and I seemed to realize that it had been put there for me alone to find. Lorinda, what if it should be a native death charm?”
“Mother, I won’t allow you to even think of such foolishness! You’re just upset because Father isn’t here.”
“Yes, that must be it,” Mrs. Rhett declared with a heavy sigh. “I have such a headache. I’ll go to my room now and try to sleep.”
Lorinda took her arm and helped her up the stairway. As they came to the step where the burnt matches had been, Mrs. Rhett glanced down and shivered. Then she laughed apologetically.
“It really is silly of me to let a little thing upset me so,” she declared. “I’ll be myself again as soon as I have slept.”
After helping her mother into bed, Lorinda returned to the living room where Penny had waited.
“I do hope you won’t put any of this in the paper,” she began earnestly. “People wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m afraid I don’t myself,” said Penny. “For instance, what did Celeste mean when she spoke of the Zudi drum? And who is she anyhow?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you! Celeste and her husband Antón, are a couple my stepfath
er brought to this country after spending a year studying ancient cult practices. Celeste befriended him, I believe, and helped him gain information about the tribesmen. Anyway, Father took a fancy to her, and persuaded the couple to come with him.”
“That was before he married your mother?”
“Oh, yes. After the wedding, my stepfather was unwilling to let Celeste and Antón go, so Mother agreed that they might work here. Antón is a worthless servant. He allows the grounds to run down shamefully, and the only time he ever really works is when someone stands over him!”
“And Celeste?”
“Oh, she is a hard worker, but I confess I don’t understand her,” Lorinda replied. “We disliked each other on sight. In a way, I’m a little afraid of her.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain.” Lorinda stirred restlessly. “She makes me feel uneasy whenever I am near her—almost as if I were in the presence of Black Magic.”
At Penny’s expression of astonishment, she amended hastily: “Oh, I don’t mean that exactly. Celeste is devoted to my stepfather and I’m sure only means to be helpful. But the truth is, she’s steeped in a mysterious and not too wholesome past. Superstition is the breath of life to her.”
“How did the match ends get on the stairway?”
“I wish I knew.” Lorinda’s forehead wrinkled with anxiety. “Celeste may have told the truth when she said neither she nor Antón had anything to do with it.”
“Then how was the charm brought into the house?”
“My stepfather had enemies. Something tells me all this may have a connection with the Zudi drum.”
“Didn’t Celeste suggest that idea to you? She hinted that the drum—whatever it is—should be removed from the house.”
“I can see myself getting rid of the Zudi drum! Why, it is my stepfather’s most prized trophy! He took it from a native tribe, and as you might imagine, there was plenty of trouble!”
“Your stepfather didn’t steal the drum?”
“Not exactly, though tribesmen may have regarded it that way. The drum was used in ceremonials and was highly treasured by natives. Father tried to buy it. When he couldn’t, he left money and trinkets and carried off the drum. Natives pursued him for more than a hundred miles, but he got away.”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 163