The Cry at Midnight

  CHAPTER 22 _THE CANOPIED BED_

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

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

  _Penny is proving to be one of the best friends I ever had and I hardlyknow her_, she thought. _I wish now I had told her everything, especiallyabout the sapphire._

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

  But at that time she had considered them strangers who only meant to pryinto her affairs. _If I had told everything then, Grandmother and I mighthave been spared much suffering_, she reflected. _I should have askedthem to take me to the police._ _The worst mistake of my life was comingback to this horrible place._

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

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

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

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

  "It won't burn longer than twenty minutes," she estimated. "But by thattime, perhaps Penny will be back here with help."

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

  A grotesque figure weaved like a huge shadow-boxer on the expanse ofsmoky plaster. At first, watching it in fascination, Rhoda could notdetermine its cause. Then, with no little relief, she decided it was ashadow of the bed draperies, moving slightly with the draughts of coldair.

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

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

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

  With a shiver of distaste, she pulled aside the draperies and crawledinto 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 hermind to reconstruct the old chapel as it might have been in the days whenthe monastery was a religious center.

  The girl had not the slightest intention of falling asleep. She felt wideawake, tense in every muscle. Not a sound escaped her, and every noiseseemed 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 intendto do with her? Why had he locked her in this particular room?

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

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

  _I did hear something_, she thought. _It sounded as if someone were inpain. And the noise came from the cellar below!_

  Now to torment the girl came reflections of unexplained happenings sinceher arrival at the monastery. On several nights she had hearddisturbances from the cellar region. Winkey, she knew, made frequenttrips to the crypt upon one pretext or another.

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

  Certain that it was Penny who had returned, she leaped out of bed andbounded 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. Thisroom is evil--evil!"

  "You're telling me!" retorted Rhoda, lapsing into slang. "All I want isto get out of here. Julia, let me free and I'll pay you well! I'll giveyou anything you want!"

  "No key."

  "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'sblank stare, Rhoda sighed and answered her own question. "No, it's toomuch 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 mustgo there now--to the kitchen."

  "Wait!" Rhoda checked her. "You say Father Benedict sent some food? Onsecond thought, I'll take it. He may not give me anything again for along while. I expect to be out of here soon, but something could gowrong."

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

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

  "Thanks, Julia," Rhoda said. "I know you mean well. Working in a placelike this isn't your fault. How did you ever meet Father Benedictanyhow?"

  The question was an unfortunate one. Apparently, unpleasant recollectionsstirred in the woman's brain, for her eyes became wild. She mutteredgibberish Rhoda could not understand. Then she slammed shut the peephole.

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

  "Poor old Julia," she sighed. "Wonder if I'll ever come to the same passshe's in? I'm sure I will if I have to spend a night in this torturechamber!"

  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 hadbefore. Nevertheless, it was hot and would warm her chilled bonesperhaps.

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

  _What was it Julia said_, she mused drowsily. _Oh, yes, I must stayawake. Must stay awake._

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

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

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

  Rhoda saw a face at the opening and recognized Father Benedict. He spokeno word, but gazed at her with an expression of evil gloating.

  The girl tried to move but her limbs seemed paralyzed. She could notstir.

  Then the panel closed and Father Benedict had gone.

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

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

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

  Rhoda stifled an impulse to laugh. Perspiration broke out in every poreas 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 herselffrom the bed clothing. But her limbs refused to obey the commands of hermind. Paralyzed with fright, she tried to scream and made only a chokingsound in her throat.