"Rhoda, is that you?" she asked in a whining voice. "Why have you been gone so long? Oh, I've been so worried!"

Penny hesitated, then went over to the bed.

"I'm not Rhoda, but a friend of hers," she explained. "Do you mind if I crawl out through the window?"

"It's nailed down and there are bars," the elderly woman replied. "Oh, this is a horrible place! Rhoda tried to tell me. I wouldn't listen!"

Scarcely hearing, Penny ran to the window. As she pulled aside the dusty velvet draperies, she saw for herself that the window was guarded by ancient rusty bars. Everywhere escape seemed cut off!

Turning to the bed again, she observed with some alarm that the old lady had fallen back on her pillow. Moonlight flooding in through the diamond-shaped panes of gla.s.s accentuated her pallor.

"You're Mrs. Hawthorne, aren't you?" she inquired gently.

The woman nodded. She coughed several times and pulled the one thin coverlet closer about her.

"Where is Rhoda?" she asked. "Why doesn't she come to me?"

Penny could not tell her the truth--that her granddaughter had been locked in the chapel bedroom by Father Benedict. Nor could she express the fear that an even worse fate was in store for the girl unless help came quickly to the monastery.

As she groped for words, Mrs. Hawthorne suddenly gasped. Her face became convulsed and she writhed in bed.

"Oh, those stomach cramps!" she moaned. "They're starting again!

Please--please, a doctor!"

Never had Penny felt so helpless as she watched the poor woman suffer.

Mrs. Hawthorne's wrinkled face broke out in perspiration. She gripped the girl's hand with a pressure that was painful.

When the cramp had pa.s.sed, she lay limp and exhausted.

"I'll get a doctor here as soon as I can," Penny promised. "Until then, perhaps a hot water bottle will help."

"There's no hot water in the place," Mrs. Hawthorne mumbled. "Oh, if I ever get away from here alive--"

"Sh!" Penny suddenly interrupted. She placed her fingertips on the woman's lips.

Heavy footsteps warned her that someone approached.

"It may be Father Benedict!" Penny whispered. "Whatever you do, don't give me away! I must hide!"

Frantically, she looked about for a safe place. The room had no closet.

"Under the bed," urged Mrs. Hawthorne.

Penny wriggled beneath it. Barely had she secreted herself, than Father Benedict stamped into the bedroom.

CHAPTER 20 _TRICKERY_

Lighting his way with a tall, flickering candle, Father Benedict walked directly to the bed where Mrs. Hawthorne lay.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired with a show of sympathy.

"Dreadful," the woman murmured. "I must have a doctor."

"Do you really believe that a doctor can help you, my good woman?"

The question startled Mrs. Hawthorne. She half-raised herself from the pillow to stare at the monk.

"Why, what do you mean?" she asked. "Surely a doctor can give me medicine to help these wretched pains. It is only a stomach disorder."

"My dear Mrs. Hawthorne, surely you must realize that your difficulty is not one that a man of medicine can cure."

"You don't mean I have a serious, incurable disease?" the woman gasped.

"You are indeed suffering from a most serious malady which may take your life," affirmed Father Benedict. "Is it not true that bad fortune has pursued every owner of the star sapphire?"

Mrs. Hawthorne remained silent.

"Is it not so?" prodded the monk. "Think back over the history of the gem. Even your husband met with misfortune."

"And now you believe my turn has come? Oh!"

"I dislike to distress you," resumed Father Benedict with malice, "but perhaps by warning you I may yet save your life. Tonight in the crystal globe I saw your face. A message came that you must dispose of the star sapphire immediately or you too will die!"

"I--I always have hated and feared the gem," Mrs. Hawthorne whispered, her lips trembling. "You are right. It has brought only misfortune upon our family."

"Then your way is clear. You must dispose of the sapphire at once--tonight."

"The gem is very valuable. You suggest that I give it to your society?"

"To our society," corrected the monk. "Once you have contributed the gem, you will become our most honored member."

"The gem was left to me in trust for my granddaughter."

"You told me yourself you desire that it never should fall into her hands."

"Only because I fear evil will befall her. I had planned to sell the gem and place the money in her name."

Father Benedict beat an impatient tattoo with his foot. "The curse would remain," he insisted. "Only by giving the gem to a worthy charity can evil be erased. For your own sake and that of your granddaughter, I beg of you, give us the sapphire."

"A few days ago, I might have considered it," said Mrs. Hawthorne peevishly. "Now I don't even like this place. It is too much on the order of a prison. The food is wretched! Tomorrow if I am stronger, I shall take my granddaughter and leave."

"Indeed?" Father Benedict sneered. "For you there will be no tomorrow. I have seen the face of a corpse in my gla.s.s!"

Penny knew that the words shocked Mrs. Hawthorne, for she heard her draw in her breath sharply. But the woman retorted with spirit: