The Cry at Midnight

  CHAPTER 4 _VANISHING FOOTPRINTS_

  "That crazy girl must have jumped off here!" Louise exclaimed, as she toosaw the footprints on the snowy planks.

  "The river is solid ice--at least six inches thick," Penny pointed out."She couldn't have crashed through."

  "Then where did she go?"

  Far upstream toward the Main Street Bridge, an iceboat could be seentacking back and forth. Otherwise, the river was a gleaming ribbon ofdeserted ice.

  "The only place she could have gone is under the dock," Penny said, hereyebrows knitting into a puzzled frown.

  "_Under_ it?"

  "That's what she must have done," Penny insisted. "I suppose the plankingwould give some protection from the storm."

  The snow was coming down harder now than ever, in huge flakes. Trailingthe footprints to the dock's edge, Penny flattened herself on the planksand peered over the side.

  "I can't see a thing!" she complained. "Dark as pitch!"

  "Listen!" commanded Louise.

  Both girls became quiet. Distinctly they could hear a faint creak of snowas someone walked beneath the dock, a long distance away.

  "Hello, down there!" shouted Penny.

  The creaking sound ceased. But no one answered the call.

  "If she's down there, she'll never answer!" Louise said, thoroughlydisgusted. "Should we go after her?"

  Penny was sorely tempted. She studied the long, high dock only to shakeher head.

  "If once we get down there, we couldn't climb up again without walking along distance, Lou."

  "Then what should we do?"

  "Let's call the police station," Penny urged. Scrambling to her feet, shebrushed snow from her ski suit. "This is a case for them to investigate."

  "That's what I think," agreed Louise, greatly relieved. "I know myparents wouldn't want me prowling under the docks at night."

  Pelted by fast falling snow, the two friends returned to the parked carand then drove to a drugstore several blocks away. Penny telephonedCentral Police Station, only to be informed a car could not be sent tothe river for a few minutes. Heavy snow had snarled traffic, causing manyaccidents and tying up police personnel.

  For twenty minutes the girls waited patiently in their car, but no onecame to investigate. At last, giving up in disgust, they drove to theirhomes.

  Try as she would, Penny could not forget the strange girl with thesuitcase who had been so unwilling to answer questions. Who was she? Andwhy had she taken refuge beneath the river docks?

  She longed to talk the matter over with her father, but Mr. Parker hadgone to bed early.

  Penny kept thinking about the matter until she fell asleep and it wasforemost in her thoughts when she awoke in the morning.

  "Wonder if the _Riverview Star_ carried any mention of a policeinvestigation at the river?" she mused.

  Dressing rapidly, she ran downstairs to bring the morning paper in fromthe porch. Eagerly she scanned the pages.

  "Not a single word here!" she exclaimed in disappointment. "Maybe thepolice didn't even bother to search the dock area."

  To make certain, she telephoned Captain Brownell, a personal friend atCentral Station. The officer explained that a police car had beendispatched to the river shortly after one o'clock. Footprints notedearlier by the two girls, had been blotted out by falling snow. No onehad been found loitering in the area.

  "Well, that's that," sighed Penny, turning away from the telephone. "Iwish now, Lou and I had taken a chance and prowled under the dock."

  From the breakfast alcove, Anthony Parker, a tall, lean man with irongray hair and intelligent eyes, regarded his daughter in amusement.

  "Talking to yourself again, Penny?" he teased.

  "I am!" Penny slid into a chair beside her father and reached for a tallglass of orange juice. "The things I'm thinking about the policedepartment aren't complimentary either! What this town needs is a largerforce and at least a dozen extra patrol cars!"

  "You could find plenty of work for them, I judge."

  "Couldn't I? A nice situation when police are too busy to investigate animportant call promptly!"

  "So they gave you the run-around," teased Mr. Parker. "Suppose you tellme what happened."

  Starting at the very beginning, Penny told of hearing the strange cry atthe old monastery and later, the meeting with the unfriendly girl who haddisappeared near the river docks.

  While she related her odd experiences, Mrs. Maud Weems, the familyhousekeeper, came in bearing a platter of scrambled eggs. Since the deathof Penny's mother, the woman had cared for the girl as her own daughter.

  She listened attentively to the tale of adventure, and with obviousdisapproval.

  "In my opinion, that's what comes of midnight skiing parties!" sheinterrupted the story. "I hope you stay away from Knob Hill and themonastery after this."

  "Oh, Mrs. Weems!" Penny's elfin face lost a little of its excited glow."This wonderful skiing weather can't last many days! I simply must goback there!"

  "To ski or to investigate the monastery?" asked the housekeeper. "If Iknow the signs, you're hot on the trail of another mystery!"

  "Naturally I want to learn more about that strange cult," grinned Penny."Who knows, I might track down a bang-up story for Dad's paper!"

  "Skiing always seemed a wholesome sport to me," interposed Mr. Parker,winking slyly at his daughter. "Of course, I don't approve of latehours."

  Mrs. Weems sighed as she set the egg platter down hard on the table. "Youtwo always conspire against me!" she accused.

  "Why, Mrs. Weems!" Penny observed innocently. "Don't you approve ofskiing?"

  "Skiing is only an excuse and you know it, Penelope Parker! Oh, dear, Itry so hard to raise you properly."

  "And you're doing a magnificent job, if I do say so myself," chuckledPenny. "Don't give the matter any further thought!"

  "Penny always has proven she uses her head and knows how to take care ofherself," added Mr. Parker. "An inquisitive mind is an asset--especiallyin the newspaper business."

  With an injured sniff, Mrs. Weems retreated to the kitchen to wash thedishes.

  Alone with her father, Penny grinned at him affectionately. His defenseof her conduct meant only one thing! He did not disapprove of herinterest in the monastery at Knob Hill.

  "He's giving me the 'go' signal!" she thought jubilantly. Aloud she said."Dad, don't you think Jay Highland and the monastery might be worth afeature story in the _Riverview Star_?"

  "Possibly," he agreed, getting up from the table. "Well, I must movealong to the office."

  A little disappointed because her father had brushed the subject aside solightly, Penny spent the morning helping Mrs. Weems with household tasks.However, directly after luncheon she packed her skis and prepared to setoff for Knob Hill.

  Unwilling to go alone, Penny stopped at the Sidell home. To herdisappointment, Louise had gone shopping and was not expected back forseveral hours.

  "Maybe I can induce Dad to go with me!" she thought. "He spends entirelytoo much time indoors. An outing will do him good!"

  At the _Star_ plant in the heart of downtown Riverview, Penny wanderedthrough a nearly deserted editorial room to her father's office. For amorning paper the hour was early, and few reporters had as yet unhoodedtheir typewriters.

  Through the glass door Penny observed that her father had a visitor, amiddle-aged, intelligent looking man she had never seen before. She wouldhave slipped away had her father not motioned for her to enter.

  "Penny, this is James Ayling, an investigator for the Barnes MutualInsurance Co.," he said. "My daughter, Mr. Ayling."

  The visitor arose to grasp the girl's hand firmly.

  "Mr. Ayling is from Boston," explained the newspaper owner. He turned tothe investigator. "Do you mind if I tell my daughter why you are here?"

  "Not at all."

  "Mr. Ayling is trying to locate an elderly woman whose family j
ewels areheavily insured with his company."

  "Mrs. Hawthorne isn't actually our client," explained Mr. Ayling."Originally, old Nathaniel Hawthorne, her late husband, insured a$100,000 star sapphire with us. The policy remains in effect until thegem becomes the possession of a granddaughter, Rhoda."

  "Who has the sapphire now?" asked Penny, slightly puzzled.

  "Mr. Hawthorne's will allows his wife the use of it during her lifetime.Upon her death it passes to the sixteen-year-old granddaughter, RhodaHawthorne."

  "And you are searching for Mrs. Hawthorne now?" Penny inquired politely.

  "Yes, so far as we know Mrs. Hawthorne has the gem. We are afraid it maybe stolen from her or that she will dispose of it for a trifling sum.Mrs. Hawthorne hasn't been well and in her present state of mind shemight act very foolishly."

  "Tell Penny about the gem's history," suggested Mr. Parker.

  "Oh, yes! The sapphire once was set in a necklace worn by a king who metviolent death. Since then, there is a superstition that bad luck pursuesthe owner.

  "The gem passed through many hands. Three times it was stolen. Severalowners died strange or violent deaths."

  "Not Mr. Hawthorne?"

  "Well, he fell from a cliff while touring the West," explained theinvestigator. "Of course it was an accident, but Mrs. Hawthorneunfortunately became convinced his death resulted from ownership of thesapphire.

  "She pleaded that the gem be sold for what it would bring, fearing thatharm would come upon her grandchild when eventually the sapphire isturned over to her. According to terms of the will, the gem cannot besold, and our firm must remain responsible for it in case of theft orloss."

  "Mrs. Hawthorne still has the gem then?"

  "We hope so," Mr. Ayling replied. "She went South on a vacation trip withher granddaughter, taking the sapphire with her. That was over a monthago. Nothing since has been heard from them."

  "But what brings you to Riverview?" questioned Penny.

  "I went South searching for Mrs. Hawthorne. At Miami only a week ago shebought two tickets for Riverview. From that point on, I've been unable totrace her."

  "Does she have relatives or friends here?"

  "Not so far as I've been able to learn. Perhaps our company is undulyconcerned, but the truth is, Mrs. Hawthorne is a very foolish, gulliblewoman. Should she dispose of or lose the gem, our firm must pay a largesum of money."

  "We'll be glad to run a picture of Mrs. Hawthorne in the paper," offeredMr. Parker. "If she has arrived in Riverview, someone will have seenher."

  "I certainly appreciate your interest," said Mr. Ayling. "Unfortunately,I have no photograph of Mrs. Hawthorne with me. I'll wire my officetonight for one."

  "In the meantime, we'll run a little story," the publisher promised. "Nodoubt you can describe the woman."

  "Oh, yes, in a general way. She's 68 years of age and walks with a cane.Her hair is white and she weighs about 150 pounds. She's deeplyinterested in art. Also in spiritualism and mystic cults, I regret toadd."

  "Mystic cults!" Penny's blue eyes began to dance with interest. She knewnow why her father had made a point of calling her in to meet theinvestigator.

  "Mrs. Hawthorne is very gullible and easily influenced. Since her husbanddied, she has been prey for one sharper after another. I judge a third ofher fortune already has been squandered."

  After a thoughtful pause, Penny hesitantly asked Mr. Ayling if he thoughtit possible Mrs. Hawthorne could have come to Riverview to join a cult.

  "That's what I'm here to find out. Mrs. Hawthorne and her granddaughterhave not registered at any of the leading hotels. Yet I know they came tothe city."

  "Have you tried the monastery at Knob Hill?" Penny suggested. "A newsociety has been established there in the last few days. I don't knowmuch about the order yet, but its members are supposed to dedicatethemselves to a life of charity and poverty."

  "Why, that's exactly the sort of thing to attract Mrs. Hawthorne--for afew weeks," the investigator replied. "Then after the novelty wore off,she would flit on to something else. Where is this place?"

  "I plan to drive out there in a few minutes," Penny told him eagerly."Why not come with me, Mr. Ayling?"

  The investigator glanced inquiringly at Mr. Parker.

  "Go ahead if you think it's worth while," urged the publisher.

  "I suppose the chance of finding Mrs. Hawthorne there is very remote,"Mr. Ayling said, thinking aloud. "But I can't afford to overlook anypossibility. Thanks, Miss Parker, I'll gladly accept your invitation."

  "Want to come along, Dad?" Penny asked.

  "No thanks," he declined. "I'm certain you'll be in good hands. Just letMr. Ayling take the lead in any investigation."

  "Why, Dad!" Penny protested. "You know me."

  "I do, indeed," said Mr. Parker, smiling as he resumed his desk work."That's why I feel confident Mr. Ayling may look forward to a veryinteresting afternoon."