The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “You said they disagreed about his interest in ancient cult practices?”

  “Yes,” Lorinda admitted. “Otherwise they got on quite well together. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this, but two days before he went away, they had a violent disagreement. Mother wanted to discharge Antón and Celeste, and he refused. Then on the last day my stepfather was seen, Mother went to the bank to talk to him. She never told me what happened there.”

  “According to Albert Potts, they had another quarrel.”

  “I shouldn’t wonder,” Lorinda sighed. “And now Mother’s attitude toward Celeste is so changed—she actually clings to her. Oh dear, it’s all so upsetting.”

  “You’re trying to take too much upon your shoulders,”Penny said kindly.

  Conversation lagged. Lorinda could not throw aside the deep mood of depression which possessed her. Penny knew she no longer had an excuse to linger, yet she was unwilling to leave without asking a few questions about the thatched roof cottage.

  “Lorinda, why did you try to keep me from visiting it the other day?” she inquired.

  “Well, I didn’t know you then. My stepfather’s trophies all are kept in the cottage, and I didn’t want anyone prying about.”

  “Then actually it’s not a place of evil?”

  Lorinda hesitated and answered indirectly: “I almost never go to the cottage myself. Once I was badly frightened there—it was nothing—but for a silly reason, I’ve always dreaded going back.”

  “You didn’t by chance hear whispering from within the walls?”

  Lorinda gave her companion a quick, startled look. “Why do you ask, Penny?”

  “Because I visited the cottage yesterday with Salt Sommers. We distinctly heard a voice which seemed to come from the wall itself. When we went outside to investigate, the door slammed shut and locked.”

  “It has an automatic catch,” Lorinda explained. “I never heard voices there, but I had a strange feeling when I was in the room—as if the walls had eyes and I was being watched.”

  “The cottage always is kept locked?” Penny inquired.

  “Yes, my stepfather’s trophies are valuable, and we can’t risk having them stolen. How did you get inside?”

  Penny had the grace to blush. “Well, to make a long story short, we went in through the window,” she admitted. “It was a dreadful thing to do, and I’m heartily ashamed.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Lorinda laughed. “Naturally you were curious after I tried so hard to keep you away. Would you like to see the cottage again?”

  “Indeed, yes!”

  “I’ll get the key,” Lorinda offered.

  She vanished into the house and was gone so long that Penny wondered what could be delaying the girl. When she finally appeared on the veranda, her face was as dark as a rain cloud.

  “The key is gone!” she exclaimed. “It’s always been kept in the top drawer of the dresser in my stepfather’s room. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

  “Perhaps he took it with him that last day he went to the bank,” suggested Penny.

  “Possibly,” agreed Lorinda, though without conviction. “I hope nothing has been stolen from the cottage.”

  Alarmed at being unable to find the key, the girls walked hurriedly along the wooded path to the trophy house. From afar, Lorinda saw that the door was open a tiny crack.

  “Either the place has been ransacked, or someone is there now!” she declared excitedly.

  They approached swiftly but with noiseless tread. Lorinda suddenly flung open the cottage door.

  The room was deserted. Trophies were exactly as Penny had seen them the previous day.

  “That’s funny,” Lorinda commented, entering, “I was certain I’d find someone here. Perhaps you and your friend failed to lock the door after you left yesterday.”

  “It locked itself. We tried it, and couldn’t get in. Anyway, even if we had left the door open, that still leaves the question of what became of the missing key.”

  Lorinda nodded thoughtfully as her gaze swept the room.

  “Everything seems to be here,” she remarked.

  “What does the chest contain?” Penny inquired curiously. “Salt and I wanted to peek inside yesterday, but didn’t have a chance.”

  “I’ll show you,” Lorinda offered.

  Pulling out the chest, she raised the lid. The top compartment tray was empty. Looking a trifle puzzled, Lorinda jerked it from the wooden container. The lower section of the chest also was empty.

  “Why, everything is gone!” she cried. “My stepfather kept an altar cloth, a feathered head dress, two carved knives, several rattles, and I don’t know what all in this chest! They’ve been stolen!”

  CHAPTER 14

  STORM WARNINGS

  Penny dropped down on her knees beside Lorinda, peering into the empty wooden box.

  “I hope you don’t think Salt and I took anything when we were here,” she murmured uncomfortably. “We never even opened the chest.”

  “Of course I know you didn’t,” Lorinda replied. “Such a thought never entered my mind. But it’s disturbing to know these things are gone. Why weren’t the other trophies taken also?”

  “Possibly, because the person who stole them thought the objects inside the chest would not be so quickly missed.”

  Lorinda nodded as if in agreement, and closed the chest. As she straightened up, a tense, strained expression came over her face, and she stiffened.

  “Listen!” she whispered.

  From behind the walls of the house came a muffled dum—dum—dum of a drum. Even as the girls tensely listened, the sound died away.

  “Could this cottage have a secret panel?” Penny asked in an excited voice.

  “I don’t think so.” Badly frightened, Lorinda tried not to show it. “At least I never heard of one.”

  Penny began tapping the walls, none of which gave off a hollow sound. The section by the fireplace appeared somewhat thicker than the others. However, if it contained a moveable panel, she could not locate it.

  Her gaze fell upon the cocoanut shell lamp, its bowl nearly exhausted of oil.

  “Lorinda,” she inquired, “is this room usually lighted?”

  “Why, no.”

  “When Salt and I were here, we saw the cocoanut shell lamp burning. A little oil is left in it now.”

  “I can’t imagine how it came to be there,” Lorinda said in a hushed voice. “My stepfather may have filled it long ago, but he certainly never spoke of it.”

  Hurriedly the girls left the cottage, closing the door tightly behind them. Lorinda tested it twice to make certain the lock had caught.

  “The sound of those drums—” she murmured. “Penny, did I imagine it?”

  “I assure you, you didn’t. I heard them too.”

  “Then the sound came from the beach,” Lorinda declared firmly. “It couldn’t have been otherwise. No one is anywhere around here.”

  “Let’s go to the beach and look around,” Penny proposed.

  Almost at a run, they cut across the garden to the steps which led to the river’s edge. Reaching the beach they paused to listen. No sound of drums could be heard and no one was in sight.

  “It couldn’t have come from here,” Penny said. “Lorinda, that drumming definitely was tied up with the cottage.”

  “But the sound was muffled and far away.”

  “The cottage may have a passageway connection.”

  “I never heard of such a thing.”

  “How long ago was the cottage built, Lorinda?”

  “The summer after Mother and my stepfather were married. I remember, Mother and I went away for a month to visit a cousin. When we returned, the cottage was finished. My stepfather ordered it done while we were away. Mother didn’t like it one bit.”

  “Then you actually weren’t here when the cottage was built? For all you know, a secret passageway or false panels in the walls, may have been put in?”

  “I suppose it could have been
done,” Lorinda admitted reluctantly.

  “Who would know about the cottage except your stepfather? Did you learn the builder’s name?”

  “I’m not sure there was one. I think my stepfather and Antón did most of the work themselves.”

  “Let’s talk to Antón,” suggested Penny. “Perhaps he can shed light on the mystery of those whispering, drum-pounding walls!”

  Antón, however, was nowhere to be found. After searching for him in the house and on the grounds, the girls abandoned the search.

  By this time it was growing late, so Penny regretfully bade her friend goodbye, and returned home.

  Try as she would, she could not forget the strange events of the afternoon, nor Mrs. Rhett’s obsession that she would have a long and fatal illness.

  “Even now that woman is mentally ill,” she thought. “I do hope Lorinda calls in a doctor without delay.”

  Although removed from the depressing mansion atmosphere, Penny found it impossible to forget the effigy and the conviction Lorinda had of its powers.

  “Dad,” she said abruptly that night when dinner was over. “Do you believe in black magic?”

  “I don’t believe in any kind of magic, black, red, pink or green,” he answered absently. “What’s on your mind now?”

  Penny told him of her adventure at the Rhett estate. She confidently expected her father to make light of the entire affair, but to her surprise he listened with flattering attention and asked many questions.

  “It’s fantastic!” he exclaimed when she finished. “Utterly fantastic! Yet I’ve read of cases where natives have been taken ill and although doctors declared not a thing was the matter with them, they weakened and died. Is Mrs. Rhett an hysterical type of woman?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Then she may be in real danger! Obviously, something underhanded is going on at the mansion!”

  Pulling himself out of a comfortable chair, Mr. Parker went to the hall closet for his hat, coat and cane.

  “You’re not going to the police station, are you, Dad?”

  “No, I want to talk this over first with a man of my acquaintance who is better versed in cult practices and superstitions than anyone I know. He’s Professor Kennedy of Riverview College. He spent many years in Africa, Egypt and along the Amazon river.”

  “May I go with you, Dad?”

  “Come along,” he invited. “You know all the facts, and I may get them mixed up.”

  Twenty minutes later Penny and her father were in the cozy study of Professor James Kennedy on Braemer Drive. An elderly man with a very soft voice, he greeted the Parkers cordially and displayed keen interest as they revealed the purpose of their call.

  “I once met Mr. Rhett at a dinner party,” Professor Kennedy remarked. “He is a highly intelligent gentleman and we had a very animated conversation.”

  “Did Rhett impress you as a man who might dabble in black magic practice to gain his ends?” Mr. Parker inquired.

  Professor Kennedy dropped a log on the fire before he answered. Considering his words carefully, he said:

  “Undoubtedly, Mr. Rhett would have the knowledge, but he struck me as a man of unusual character. Suppose you explain more fully what you have in mind.”

  Professor Kennedy listened soberly as Penny recounted her many observations while at the Rhett mansion. He frowned slightly as she told how Mrs. Rhett had found the burnt match ends tied with scarlet string. When she disclosed how Lorinda and she destroyed the wooden doll, he no longer could remain silent.

  “Indeed, you are correct in thinking someone may be trying to practice a little jungle magic!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Rhett may be in grave danger unless we take counter-measures.”

  “But why should anyone seek to harm her?” Penny inquired. “You don’t think she’ll actually be physically hurt?”

  “Her mind will be influenced—poisoned,” the professor explained. “Oh, I don’t mean a drug will be used, but there are subtle and just as effective ways. Now those burned match ends and the doll are only symbols, harmless in themselves, yet they are a means by which Mrs. Rhett may be made seriously ill.”

  “Merely by the use of suggestion?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s all such nonsense!” Penny protested.

  “To you—yes. But not to Mrs. Rhett. Tell me, does she know that the doll existed?”

  “Yes, she learned about it—probably from Antón or Celeste.”

  The professor nodded. “The intended victim always knows,” he declared. “By one means or another he is informed through those who seek his ruin. To be effective, the person must fear the mumbo-jumbo hocus-pocus.”

  “Mrs. Rhett does fear it,” Penny confirmed. “What’s worse, she already believes herself marked for long illness. She actually looked ill today.”

  “She is mentally sick, and the symptoms will develop, unless counter-measures quickly are adopted.”

  “What do you advise, Professor?” asked Mr. Parker. “Perhaps if Mrs. Rhett were sent away from Riverview for a short while—”

  “It would be of no avail, for the basic belief that she is ill would remain in her mind. No, this thing, must be plucked out at the root. The doll has been burned. That is good! Now the one who seeks to will this sickness upon Mrs. Rhett must be found and confronted with his crime.”

  “We don’t know who is behind it,” said Mr. Parker.

  “I read in the papers Mr. Rhett has vanished. However, I wonder, is it not possible he actually is still in Riverview?”

  “But you said yourself, Mr. Rhett doesn’t appear the type of man to do such a ghastly thing,” broke in Mr. Parker.

  “So I did, but we dare not close our eyes to such a possibility. I believe you mentioned two servants, Antón and Celeste, who also are versed in cult practices, no doubt.”

  “Celeste is the one I suspect!” cried Penny. “But she has no good reason for hating Mrs. Rhett who seemingly always has been kind to her.”

  “Regardless, my advice is that the two servants be watched closely. And when the guilty person is found, as he must be, ordinary threats or punishments are likely to prove useless in dealing with him. He must be fought with his own superstitious weapons.”

  Mr. Parker and Penny talked on and on with the professor whose discussion of the effects of auto-suggestion only served to heighten their anxiety regarding Mrs. Rhett. When they left the house at midnight, Penny was deeply depressed.

  “It’s all very well for the professor to say ‘find the guilty party and fight him with his own weapons,’” she declared, “but how can we do it? In the first place, Lorinda is our only contact with the Rhett household.”

  “Secondly, we’re not gifted in all this hocus-pocus. It’s a case for the police,” added her father.

  “But we have no proof of anything,” Penny pointed out.

  “True,” agreed her father. “I may talk to the police chief about it. Meanwhile, we’re interested in keeping abreast of developments for the Star. If you’re sent out there again, be watchfully alert, but say nothing to Lorinda or anyone else about your suspicions. The case could take an ugly turn. In that event, I don’t want you involved.”

  “It’s fun working on the story, Dad. But I also want to help Lorinda and especially her mother.”

  Penny realized her father had given excellent advice, and made up her mind to follow it. She became thoughtfully silent as they motored home.

  “Wonder what the news is tonight?” Mr. Parker remarked, halting the car at a street corner to buy a newspaper.

  Glaring headlines occupied the front page. Mr. Parker’s first thought was that the missing banker had been found. He snapped on the interior car light to read the banner.

  His stunned silence as he stared at it, caused Penny to peer over his shoulder. The lead story was not about Mr. Rhett’s mysterious disappearance. Instead, the bold black type proclaimed:

  “STORM WARNINGS POSTED. RIVERVIEW BELIEVED TO BE IN PATH OF APPROACH
ING HURRICANE!”

  CHAPTER 15

  MRS. RHETT’S ILLNESS

  News that a violent storm was sweeping toward Riverview held the front pages throughout Monday, and became almost the only topic of conversation on the streets.

  Skies remained sunny, however, and presently fears were somewhat quieted by national wire service reports that the hurricane was believed to be veering eastward. Government observers now were quoted as predicting only the edge of the hurricane would strike the coast, and inland states might escape unscathed.

  Accordingly, business went on much the same as usual. Lulled by the knowledge that never in the history of Riverview had a hurricane struck, the citizens now and then glanced at the falling barometer, but otherwise gave the matter little thought.

  Although the disappearance of Hamilton Rhett had been crowded completely from the front pages, Penny did not lose interest in the case. Twice she telephoned the mansion, only to receive no response. She did not visit the estate, for Editor DeWitt kept her busy with special assignments.

  After school Tuesday, Penny was sent to the Hanover Steamship Co. offices to interview a tugboat captain. Enroute she ran into Louise Sidell. Her chum regarded her accusingly.

  “A great pal you turned out to be, Penny Parker! Remember—you left me standing at the door of the First National.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, Lou,” Penny apologized. “I was inside much longer than I expected to be and when I came out, you were gone.”

  “You never even telephoned to tell me what happened, you egg! I read all about it in the papers.”

  “You may have read part of the story, but not all,”Penny corrected. “I called for you on Sunday when you were out, and since then I’ve been busier than a hop toad. Right now I’m on my way to the steamship office. Want to come along?”

  “I suppose it’s the only way I’ll get any information out of you,” Louise grumbled, falling into step.

  As they walked toward the docks, she asked leading questions and, by the time they reached the steamship offices, had gleaned most of the story.