"Go!" the woman mumbled, her cracked lips quivering. "Go!"

_Seeing us here always seems to upset her, Penny thought._ Aloud she remarked: "Yes, we're leaving now. If Father Benedict wonders what became of us, I'm afraid he'll just have to guess."

The girls started toward the cloister with Old Julia following a step behind.

"Hurry! Hurry!" she muttered. "No time!"

"Oh, we have plenty of time, if that's what you mean," replied Penny, smiling at her in a friendly way. Suddenly she halted as the thought occurred to her that she might obtain useful information from the woman if only she phrased her questions skillfully.

"Julia, you must know everyone who lives here in the dormitory rooms,"

she began. "Do you often see a girl about my age?"

A strange light flickered for a moment in the old woman's watery gray eyes, then died. She merely stared at Penny.

"No soap!" commented Louise. "Let's get out of here."

Penny, however, was persistent.

"Julia, you must have seen her--a girl like me," she emphasized. "Does she sleep here?"

"Sleep--sleep--" the word seemingly had aroused an unpleasant chain of thought in the old woman's twisted mind.

"Where is the girl's room?" Penny probed.

Julia did not act as if she had heard the question. She was mumbling to herself, a look of horror upon her face.

"What's she saying?" Louise demanded, unable to catch a word.

Penny bent closer. Distinctly she heard the old woman mutter: "The canopied bed! In the chapel room--"

Then old Julia stiffened and she flattened herself against the wall of the pa.s.sageway, her eyes wide with fear.

Directly ahead, in the doorway opening onto the cloister, stood Father Benedict.

CHAPTER 14 _AN a.s.sIGNMENT FOR PENNY_

Father Benedict's face was as expressionless as a marble statue, but his dark eyes smoldered with anger.

Ignoring Penny and Louise for the moment, he fixed the cringing Julia with stern gaze.

"Did I not order you to remain in the kitchen?" he demanded. His voice was low, almost purring. Nevertheless, the woman acted as if she had been lashed with a whip.

Mumbling unintelligibly, she scurried off down the covered pa.s.sageway along the side of the cloister, and disappeared through another doorway.

"Please, it wasn't Julia's fault that she was here," said Penny, feeling sorry for the unfortunate woman. "Louise and I called for help and she came to a.s.sist us."

"Yes, we were locked in the study," added Louise. "If she hadn't come to our rescue, we would have been there yet."

"Do I understand you to say you were _locked_ in?" asked the monk, his s.h.a.ggy eyebrows lifting in astonishment. "The door sticks sometimes."

"It was locked," interposed Penny quietly. "We tried several times to open it. Julia finally let us out with a key."

Having divulged this bit of information, she immediately regretted it. A shadow pa.s.sed over the monk's countenance.

"A key?" he repeated. "How would Julia know--" Breaking off, he smiled and completed: "The locks here are very old and sadly in need of repair.

I must have a locksmith in immediately."

Father Benedict fixed his gaze upon one of the twisted, weather-stained columns of the cloister, for the moment seeming to forget the girls.

Becoming a little uncomfortable, they edged toward the exit.

"We'll be going now," said Penny to remind him of their presence. "That is, unless you'll permit us to witness the cult ceremony."

"The main hall has not yet been prepared," Father Benedict replied quickly. "We have postponed the ceremony until later tonight."

"Perhaps we could return then."

"It would be highly inadvisable." Father Benedict's deep frown plainly showed that he was becoming irritated. "The members of our sect are sensitive to visitors. I regret onlookers are not as yet welcome."

_That's telling me in a nice way to mind my own business_, thought Penny.

Aloud she said: "I see. Well, later on, perhaps."

Politely, Father Benedict escorted the girls through the cloister. Penny noted that much of the dirt and debris had been swept away. A beautifully carved stone stairway, which she had failed to notice upon her previous visit, led up to a narrow balcony.

Observing that many doors opened from it, she inquired if the dormitories were above.

"They are," the monk replied in a brief tone which discouraged further questions.

"It's so still in here," remarked Louise as they walked on. "One never would dream many people are staying in the building."

"We lead a quiet life," the monk explained. "For the most part, my people spend their time reading or in meditation and prayer."

The three now had reached the front door, and Penny thought she detected an expression of relief upon Father Benedict's face as he opened it for them.

"By the way," she remarked, "was anything seriously wrong in the cellar?"

"Oh, no! Nothing at all! Merely a leaking pipe. A plumber will take care of it. Thank you, and good afternoon."

With no show of haste, but very firmly, the monk closed the door in their faces.

"Well, how do you like that!" Penny muttered. "I never received a smoother brush-off!"

Snow was melting fast and running in rivers down the brick walk as the girls sauntered toward the gate. Winkey was nowhere to be seen, but knowing he might be close by, they were careful not to discuss Father Benedict until they were well beyond the property boundaries.

"Well, I guess this puts an end to your visits here," remarked Louise as they walked toward the parked car. "Father Benedict seems determined not to let you witness one of the cult ceremonies."