The Cry at Midnight by Mildred A. Wirt

Author:Mildred A. Wirt
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Parker, Penny (Fictitious character) -- Juvenile fiction, Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction, Women detectives -- Juvenile fiction, Mystery and detective stories
Published: 2010-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

15

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

Jake Cotton’s careless remark about the canopied bed at the monastery filled Penny with deep excitement.

“Perhaps Old Julia isn’t as crazy as she seems!” she thought. “The place does have a canopied bed, and she may have been trying to tell me something about it!”

Now more than ever, Penny was determined to revisit the monastery that night. Many unanswered questions plagued her. Not only was she curious to witness a cult ceremony, but also she wished to learn the identity of the strange girl who lived on the premises. And she hoped to view the chapel room with the freight lift and if possible, to see the canopied bed of which Old Julia had prattled so unintelligibly.

Hastening into the house, Penny sought Mrs. Weems in the kitchen.

“Anything I can do to help with dinner?” she inquired.

The housekeeper, in the act of putting a kettle of potatoes on the fire to boil, eyed her with instant suspicion.

“And where do you plan to go when dinner is over, may I ask?” she inquired.

“Only out to the monastery.”

“Again! You came from there not a half hour ago!”

“Oh, Mr. DeWitt assigned me to cover a cult meeting tonight,” Penny assured her hastily.

“And your father approves?”

“Haven’t seen him yet. He ought to be coming home any minute now.”

“Your father telephoned he will be detained,” Mrs. Weems explained. “I doubt he’ll be home before nine o’clock. So the monastery expedition is out of the question!”

“Oh, Mrs. Weems!” Penny was aghast. “I promised Mr. DeWitt! He’s depending on the story.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” the housekeeper replied, though she softened a little. “I simply can’t allow you to go to the monastery alone at night—”

“Oh, I’ll start right away—just as soon as I can grab a bite of dinner,” Penny broke in eagerly. “If Father Benedict refuses me permission to see the ceremony, then I can come back.”

“You can, but will you?”

“Eventually, at least,” Penny grinned. “Oh, Mrs. Weems, have a heart! Can’t I telephone Dad somewhere?”

The housekeeper shook her head. “He’s in an important meeting and can’t be disturbed until it’s over.”

“But you will let me go? I won’t be gone long.”

“Oh, I suppose I’ll have to give in,” Mrs. Weems sighed. “I usually do. I’ll hurry dinner along so you can get back early.”

While the housekeeper fried pork chops, Penny set the table and prepared a salad. When the meal was ready she ate with a haste that shocked Mrs. Weems.

“I declare, your table manners become worse every day!” she protested. “Your mind isn’t on what you are doing.”

“It’s on what I’m about to do!” Penny chuckled, getting up from the table. “I don’t want any dessert tonight. See you later!”

Donning a heavy coat and slipping a flashlight into one of the deep pockets, she left the house.

The night was dark, for as yet there was no moon. Penny drove rapidly through Riverview and along the lonely road which led to the monastery.

Despite the speed of her car, she soon noted that another automobile was overtaking her.

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