The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  “The minute he and Father Benedict get their thieving hands on the sapphire, they’ll leave here!” she reasoned. “Oh, why can’t I think of some way to stop them?”

  Penny had left her own car parked on the road not far from the monastery. She was hopeful that should her father or anyone from the newspaper office seek her, they would see the car and deduct that she was somewhere inside the ancient building.

  “But no one will come until it’s too late,” she thought. “Mrs. Weems probably went to bed early and didn’t tell Dad I came here. Mr. DeWitt won’t think about it until nearly deadline time at the Star.”

  Outside, the hounds kept roaming the grounds. Penny had never seen such vicious looking animals.

  Abandoning all hope of getting away without risking being torn to pieces, she decided her wisest course would be to keep hidden until Father Benedict had driven away.

  “Maybe by staying, I can help Rhoda,” she reflected. “Father Benedict intends to force her to tell where the sapphire is hidden!”

  With noiseless tread she started toward the chapel bedroom which adjoined the church ruins. In passing the monk’s study she noticed that the door stood slightly ajar.

  Peering cautiously in, she saw that the room was in disarray. All of Father Benedict’s clothing, art treasures, and personal belongings had been removed. Drawers of the desk had been emptied of their contents.

  In the fireplace, flames leaped merrily. Plainly, the monk had disposed of many papers by consigning them to the fire.

  At the edge of the hearth lay several sheets torn from a notebook. One of the pages had caught fire and was burning slowly.

  Recognizing it as a sheet listing society contributions, Penny darted forward and stamped out the flames.

  Only half of the paper had been charred. Many of the names still could be read. Folding the good section, she placed it in her coat pocket.

  Two other pages which had not caught fire proved to be blank.

  Unable to rescue anything else from the flames, Penny quitted the study and moved hurriedly toward the chapel bedroom.

  From the dormitories she now could hear muffled cries and poundings which told her cult members had discovered themselves locked in their rooms.

  “I can’t get them out without keys,” Penny thought. “But if they make enough noise, someone may hear and come here to investigate.”

  The closing of a nearby door brought the girl up short. As she froze against the passageway wall, Father Benedict stepped from the closet adjoining the bedroom where Rhoda was imprisoned.

  Instantly Penny guessed that he had been watching the girl through the peephole.

  Father Benedict’s satisfaction as he started toward the ruined church was frightening to behold. Thin lips were twisted into an ugly smile, and as he passed within a few feet of where Penny stood he muttered:

  “Ah rest!—no rest but change of place and posture;

  Ah sleep—no sleep but worn-out posture; Nature’s swooning;

  Ah bed!—no bed but cushion fill’d with stones.”

  CHAPTER 22

  THE CANOPIED BED

  In the chapel bedroom Rhoda Hawthorne had been greatly cheered to realize that soon she might be freed from imprisonment.

  The brief conversation with Penny through the closet peephole encouraged her to believe that almost at once help would come.

  Penny is proving to be one of the best friends I ever had and I hardly know her, she thought. I wish now I had told her everything, especially about the sapphire.

  With regret the girl recalled how she had rebuffed Penny and Louise on the occasion when they had offered her a ride into Riverview.

  But at that time she had considered them strangers who only meant to pry into her affairs. If I had told everything then, Grandmother and I might have been spared much suffering, she reflected. I should have asked them to take me to the police. The worst mistake of my life was coming back to this horrible place.

  Restlessly, Rhoda tramped about the chapel room. The air was very stuffy and the absence of windows distressed her. She felt oppressed, as if the four walls were pressing in upon her.

  The room was scantily furnished with only the huge canopied bed, an old fashioned dresser, and a table. There were no chairs.

  Groping on the dresser, the girl found a stub of a candle in a holder. At first she could discover no matches. However, after examining all the dresser drawers, she came upon one.

  Shielding it carefully from draughts, she managed to light it and ignite the wick of the candle.

  “It won’t burn longer than twenty minutes,” she estimated. “But by that time, perhaps Penny will be back here with help.”

  The dim light depressed rather than cheered the girl. Cold currents of air coming from the chinks of the walls caused the flame to flicker weirdly, and almost go out.

  A grotesque figure weaved like a huge shadow-boxer on the expanse of smoky plaster. At first, watching it in fascination, Rhoda could not determine its cause. Then, with no little relief, she decided it was a shadow of the bed draperies, moving slightly with the draughts of cold air.

  The room had no heat. Soon, against her will, Rhoda was driven by the chill to seek the warmth of the canopied bed.

  With repugnance she eyed the strange, old-fashioned piece of furniture which dominated the room. The bed was wide enough to accommodate three or four persons comfortably. Tall posters of twisted wood supported a carved framework to which were attached dusty, scarlet draperies.

  A moth-eaten carpet covered a section of floor directly beneath the bedstead. Rhoda gave it only a passing glance and did not think to look under its curling, frayed edges.

  With a shiver of distaste, she pulled aside the draperies and crawled into the bed. No cover had been provided, but there were clean sheets. The damp-smelling spread offered a little relief from the cold.

  For some time Rhoda lay staring at the beamed ceiling and trying in her mind to reconstruct the old chapel as it might have been in the days when the monastery was a religious center.

  The girl had not the slightest intention of falling asleep. She felt wide awake, tense in every muscle. Not a sound escaped her, and every noise seemed intensified.

  A board creaked.

  It’s nothing, she told herself. All old houses make strange sounds, especially when a wind is blowing.

  Yet disturbing thoughts plagued the girl. What did Father Benedict intend to do with her? Why had he locked her in this particular room?

  Suddenly Rhoda stiffened and clutched the sheet convulsively. Was it imagination or had she heard a low moan?

  The sound had seemed to come from beneath the bed. Half tempted to look beneath the draperies, she resisted the impulse.

  I did hear something, she thought. It sounded as if someone were in pain. And the noise came from the cellar below!

  Now to torment the girl came reflections of unexplained happenings since her arrival at the monastery. On several nights she had heard disturbances from the cellar region. Winkey, she knew, made frequent trips to the crypt upon one pretext or another.

  Suddenly Rhoda was startled by a light and repeated tapping on the wall near the closet peephole.

  Certain that it was Penny who had returned, she leaped out of bed and bounded across the room.

  The panel of wood moved back and two eyes peered in at her.

  “Is that you, Penny?” Rhoda whispered eagerly.

  “Julia!” was the answer.

  “Oh,” Rhoda murmured in bitter disappointment. “I hoped—”

  “Master send you some supper,” the servant mumbled. “Bread and coffee.”

  “I don’t want them!”

  “Better you eat and drink,” Julia admonished. “But do not sleep. This room is evil—evil!”

  “You’re telling me!” retorted Rhoda, lapsing into slang. “All I want is to get out of here. Julia, let me free and I’ll pay you well! I’ll give you anything you want!”

  “No k
ey.”

  “But you know where it is kept?”

  “The master keep keys on him always.”

  “He would! Can’t you trick him or something?”Seeing the old woman’s blank stare, Rhoda sighed and answered her own question. “No, it’s too much to expect. But maybe you could slip away from here and bring help—”

  “Master never let me out of the house. My place is in the kitchen. I must go there now—to the kitchen.”

  “Wait!” Rhoda checked her. “You say Father Benedict sent some food? On second thought, I’ll take it. He may not give me anything again for a long while. I expect to be out of here soon, but something could go wrong.”

  Rhoda longed to ask Old Julia if she had seen Penny or if the girl had escaped. However, knowing that the old woman might divulge the secret to Father Benedict, she wisely did not bring up the subject.

  Julia thrust a hard crust of bread in through the peephole, and then shoved a cup of steaming black coffee into her hand.

  “Thanks, Julia,” Rhoda said. “I know you mean well. Working in a place like this isn’t your fault. How did you ever meet Father Benedict anyhow?”

  The question was an unfortunate one. Apparently, unpleasant recollections stirred in the woman’s brain, for her eyes became wild. She muttered gibberish Rhoda could not understand. Then she slammed shut the peephole.

  A moment later, Rhoda heard her footsteps as she left the closet and retreated down the corridor.

  “Poor old Julia,” she sighed. “Wonder if I’ll ever come to the same pass she’s in? I’m sure I will if I have to spend a night in this torture chamber!”

  Shivering, Rhoda climbed back into bed. She bit into the bread. Discovering it to be moldy, she hurled it into a far corner of the room.

  Rhoda was cold and the hot coffee smelled good. She sipped it cautiously. The brew tasted peculiar, sweetish and unlike any coffee she ever had had before. Nevertheless, it was hot and would warm her chilled bones perhaps.

  She drank the entire cupful and leaned back on the pillow.

  What was it Julia said, she mused drowsily. Oh, yes, I must stay awake. Must stay awake.

  But the warmth of the bed was closing in on her, inviting her to shut her eyes. Though she fought against it, she could feel sleep taking possession of her.

  She tried to raise her hand and found it too heavy to lift. Only then did the frightening truth seep into her mind. She had been drugged! Undoubtedly, Father Benedict had slipped a heavy sleeping powder into the coffee! And she stupidly had drunk all of the brew.

  The sound of the peephole panel moving again, aroused her momentarily from the stupor into which she rapidly was falling.

  Rhoda saw a face at the opening and recognized Father Benedict. He spoke no word, but gazed at her with an expression of evil gloating.

  The girl tried to move but her limbs seemed paralyzed. She could not stir.

  Then the panel closed and Father Benedict had gone.

  Rhoda fell into a sleep only to be rudely awakened as the huge bed gave a slight jerk. The stupefied girl could not think where she was for a moment.

  Her head was a-whirl and the room seemed to be spinning. Like a person taking ether, she felt as if she were slipping farther and farther away from reality with each breath.

  The canopied bed had come to life and was moving slowly downward through an opening in the floor.

  Rhoda stifled an impulse to laugh. Perspiration broke out in every pore as she suddenly knew that it was not a dream nor a horrible imagining. The bed actually was moving!

  As she realized her desperate plight, the girl struggled to free herself from the bed clothing. But her limbs refused to obey the commands of her mind. Paralyzed with fright, she tried to scream and made only a choking sound in her throat.

  CHAPTER 23

  DESCENT INTO THE CRYPT

  Meanwhile, a great fear had taken possession of Penny as she saw Father Benedict leave the chapel bedroom closet and disappear down a corridor leading into the ruins of the church.

  The expression of his face and his evil mutterings warned her that the man thoroughly enjoyed his role, despite his insistence that he abhorred violence.

  Fearing for Rhoda’s safety, Penny waited only until he had vanished. Then she slipped into the closet of the bedroom and fumbled for the peephole opening.

  She found it and peered anxiously into the darkened bed chamber. Rhoda was lying on the canopied bed, apparently sound asleep.

  “Rhoda!” Penny called in a loud whisper.

  The girl did not stir.

  As Penny whispered the name still louder, she saw the bed jerk. The floor beneath it began to move slowly downward.

  In horror, Penny recalled what Jake Cotton, the carpenter, had told her about repairing the ancient lift. Rhoda was being lowered into the crypt below!

  “Rhoda!” she cried. “Wake up! Quick! Jump out of bed!”

  The girl seemed to hear for she moved slightly and made a choking sound in her throat. But she could not extricate herself from the slowly descending bed.

  Numb with despair, Penny saw the girl disappear beyond view. There was a whine of machinery as the bed apparently came to a standstill on the subterranean floor below.

  Then after a moment, she heard movement again. The bed slowly ascended. A glance sufficed to show Penny that it was empty.

  “I’ve got to help her!” she thought. “That fiend will torture her into telling where the sapphire is hidden if I don’t think of some scheme for saving her. But how?”

  Quitting the closet, Penny sought the same passageway Father Benedict had taken into the ruined church.

  As she cautiously opened the squeaky door, she saw before her shattered Gothic columns which once had supported a magnificent roof. Now dim stars cast a ghostly light over a mass of piled-up rubble.

  Walls, however, had proved remarkably sturdy, rising to a height Penny could not hope to scale. There were no visible exits.

  “Where did Father Benedict go?” she speculated. “Steps must lead down to the crypt.”

  Penny flashed her light about, seeking an opening. Investigating a pile of stone which had tumbled from an archway, she was elated to find her search at an end. Behind the piled up rocks, cleverly concealed, was a vaulted stone passage and stairway leading down.

  Though Penny knew it was highly dangerous to venture below, she did not hesitate. A step at a time, and pausing frequently to listen, she stole down toward the inky blackness of the crypt.

  The stone walls on either side of the narrow, curving stairway were cold and clammy to the touch. Water dripped from overhead.

  Ahead, in a sunken recess amid the stones, the girl suddenly saw a shadowy figure. Startled, she jerked to a standstill. Then, observing that the object was not a human being but a rusty coat of armor, she breathed easier and went on.

  A minute later, as she crept around a turn of the stairway, terror gripped her at first glimpse of the dimly lighted burial crypt.

  In grim, orderly rows were the elaborately carved stone sarcophaguses of former residents of the monastery.

  Beyond the tombs, backed against a wall, sat Rhoda. Sleepy-eyed, her hair in disarray, she faced Father Benedict who held a lighted lantern close to her face.

  Jay Highland had doffed his long robes and stood revealed in ordinary gray business suit. In his coat pocket, within easy reach of his right hand, was a revolver.

  “Wake up!” he said, giving Rhoda a hard shake. “You’re only pretending now! The drug in the coffee was not strong enough to keep you asleep. Wake up!”

  Rhoda stared at him and her eyes widened in horror.

  “You fiend!” she accused him. “Don’t you dare touch me! I’ll scream!”

  “Scream at the top of your lungs, my dear. Only the dead will hear you.”

  “The dead! Oh!” A shudder wracked Rhoda’s thin body as she became aware of the tombs in the crypt. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “For one purpose. I want the sapp
hire. Hand it over and you will not be harmed.”

  “I haven’t the gem.”

  “But you know where it is.”

  Rhoda remained silent.

  “You’ll tell,” Highland rasped, losing all patience. “I haven’t all day! You tricked me with that cheap substitute, and you induced your grandmother to hold out against me. Now we are through playing.”

  “You’re nothing but a cheap crook!”

  “A crook perhaps,” said the man, “but hardly cheap. The sapphire should be worth $50,000 at a conservative estimate. Now where is it?”

  “You’ll never learn from me!” Rhoda cried defiantly. “I’ll die before I’ll tell!”

  “My! My! Such heroics! However, I think you will change your mind. Let me show you something, my dear.”

  Setting the lantern on the floor, Highland grasped Rhoda roughly by the arm and led her to a small doorway at the far side of the crypt.

  “Tell me what you see,” he purred.

  Rhoda drew in her breath sharply and recoiled from the sight. She was speechless with fright.

  “My dear, I was not thinking of mistreating you—certainly not,” Highland purred. “No, instead we will bring your aged grandmother down here.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Rhoda gasped. “Why, she’s sick.”

  “The damp and cold will be bad for her, no doubt,” agreed the imposter. “When I saw her tonight, she seemed to have developed a severe cough. The onset of pneumonia perhaps.”

  “Oh!”

  “You could so easily spare her suffering,” continued the man wickedly. “Merely by telling me where you hid the sapphire. I know your grandmother had it when she came into this house. But you made off with it, substituting a paste gem.”

  “It’s true, I did hide the gem,” Rhoda confessed. “Punish me—not Grandmother.”

  “Unless you tell me where the sapphire is hidden she shall be brought down here and treated as those others who defied me.” The man jerked his head toward the room beyond Penny’s view. “What do you say?”

  “Let me think about it for a few minutes.”

  “You’re stalling for time, hoping that Parker girl will bring help!” the man accused. From his pocket he took a stout cord with which he securely bound Rhoda’s hands and feet.