The Cry at Midnight

  CHAPTER 7 _A WARNING_

  If Father Benedict's words disturbed the investigator, he gave no sign.Smiling, he said:

  "I fear I am not a firm believer in the art of crystal gazing--allrespect to your remarkable talent."

  The monk frowned as he carefully laid another log on the dying fire. "Youwill be unwise to disregard the warning," he said. "Most unwise."

  "Warning?"

  "I should interpret the picture as such, dear Mr. Ayling. Apparently, ifyou pursue your present course, you are certain to meet misfortune."

  "To what 'present course' do you refer?"

  "That I would not know," replied the monk coldly. "Now may I thank youfor coming to our humble abode and bid you good afternoon? I have aformal meeting soon with members of my little family of believers andmust nap for a few minutes. You will excuse me?"

  "We were just leaving," said Penny. "I'm really deeply interested in yoursociety here. May I come sometime soon to watch a ceremony?"

  The monk gazed at her sharply but answered in a polite voice:

  "Later, when we are better organized and have our house in order, weshall be most happy to have you."

  On the way out of the building, through the chilly cloister and gloomyhall, Penny looked carefully about for the girl who so stealthily hadopened the door of the monk's study.

  She saw no one. Mr. Ayling and Father Benedict, she was certain, wereunaware of the incident which had so startled her.

  "It wasn't imagination," she thought. "I did see the door open. But itmay not have been that girl Louise and I met last night. Probably it wasa member of Mr. Highland's cult."

  Deeply puzzled, Penny decided that if an opportunity presented itself,she would revisit the monastery another day.

  At the front door of the building, Father Benedict turned to bid hisguests goodbye. Before he could retreat, a loud commotion was heard nearthe gatehouse.

  The monk listened intently and with evident annoyance. "My! My! Whatnow?" he sighed. "Are we to have no peace and quiet within our walls?"

  Near the front gate, Winkey could be seen arguing with a stout,middle-aged man in a racoon coat who carried an easel and a palette underhis arm.

  "My orders are to keep folks out o' here!" Winkey shouted. "I don't carewho you are! Ye ain't settin' foot inside here, unless the boss says so!Now get out!"

  "Try to put me out!" the visitor challenged.

  "Okay, I will!" retorted the hunchback.

  He would have seized the visitor by the arm, had not Father Benedictcalled to him from the doorway: "Winkey!"

  "Yes, Father," the hunchback mumbled.

  "Now tell me what is wrong," the cult leader bade as he went down to thegate, followed by Penny and Mr. Ayling. "Who is this gentleman?"

  "My name is Vernon Eckenrod," the visitor introduced himself. "I'm anartist. I live down the road a quarter of a mile."

  "He wants to come in and paint a picture," interposed Winkey. "I told himnothin' doing."

  "Your man doesn't understand," said Mr. Eckenrod, glaring at thehunchback. "I am doing a series of pictures of the monastery for anational magazine. The sketches are finished and now I'm starting topaint."

  "You mean you wish to do exterior scenes?"

  "Exterior and also interior. I want to do the arch to the chapter housetoday, and if I have time, either the stone-hooded chimneys or the windowof the guest hall."

  "You show remarkable familiarity with the monastery."

  "I've been coming here for more than a year," the artist said, shiftinghis easel to a more comfortable position. "This building is one of theoldest in the state. See, I have a key." He held it before the startledgaze of the monk.

  "Indeed!" Father Benedict's voice became less friendly. "And may Iinquire how you came into possession of a key to my property?"

  "Your property?"

  "Certainly, I have rented these premises from the owner, with an optionto buy."

  "I've been trying to buy the place myself," the artist said, "butcouldn't pay the amount asked. I'd like to restore the buildings and makeit into a real show place."

  "How did you obtain a key?" the monk reminded him.

  "Oh, the owner gave me one. He lets me paint here whenever I like."

  "The monastery now is exclusively mine," said Father Benedict. "Kindlyturn the key over to me!"

  "Surely," agreed Mr. Eckenrod, giving it up. "But you won't mind if Icome here to finish my paintings? I'm under contract to complete the workby the fifteenth of the month."

  Father Benedict secreted the key in the folds of his robe. "I appreciateyour position," he said. "Nevertheless, we cannot have strangersintruding upon our privacy."

  "Why, everyone around here knows me! Ask anyone about my character andwork!"

  "I do not question your character, my good man. But I must request younot to come here again."

  "Now see here!" the artist exclaimed, losing his temper again. "You don'tget the idea! My pictures are half done. If I don't complete the order,I'll stand to lose months of work."

  "Complete them from the sketches."

  "I can't do that--the color and feeling would be lost."

  Father Benedict turned as if to leave. "I am sorry," he said firmly.

  "Listen--" Mr. Eckenrod began furiously.

  The monk coldly walked away, entering the house.

  "You heard him!" cried Winkey, triumphantly. "Now git going and don'tcome back!"

  "All right, I'll go," the artist retorted. "But I'll be here again. Youcan't get away with this even if you have rented the property!"

  Scarcely aware of Penny and Mr. Ayling, who followed him to the gate, Mr.Eckenrod stomped off with easel and palette.

  "They can't get away with it!" he stormed, addressing no one inparticular. "I'll come back here with the sheriff!"

  "I'm afraid Father Benedict is within his rights," remarked Mr. Ayling."He's taken over the property."

  "What's that?" the artist became aware of his presence. "Oh yes," headmitted grudgingly, "legally he is within his rights, I suppose. Butwhat of justice?"

  "It would seem only decent of him to allow you to complete yourpaintings."

  "I've been coming to the monastery for months, off and on," the artistrevealed in an aggrieved tone. "Always figured I'd buy the place. Theowner, Peter Holden, picked it up at a foreclosure sale for a merenothing. He'd have sold to me too, if this fellow hadn't come along. Whois he, anyhow?"

  "I wonder myself," said Mr. Ayling.

  "His gateman looks like a thug!"

  "I'm afraid your unfortunate encounter with Winkey prejudiced you,"smiled the investigator. "After all, the man apparently was acting underorders."

  "I didn't like that monk either!" the artist scowled. "He acted asreligious as my Aunt Sara!"

  "His real name is Jay Highland," Penny contributed. "He's a crystalgazer."

  "Humph! A fine calling! If the authorities are smart, they'll look intohis business here!"

  The trio now had reached the roadside where Penny's car was parked.Politely, she offered to give the artist a lift to his home.

  "Thanks, but I'll walk," he declined the offer. "I live only a shortdistance. I'll just cut through the fields."

  His dark eyes still snapping like firebrands, the artist strode offthrough the snow.

  "Quite a character!" remarked Mr. Ayling, once he and Penny were in thecar. "An eccentric!"

  "I've heard Mr. Eckenrod really is a fine artist," Penny replied. "Toobad Father Benedict wouldn't let him complete his paintings. By the way,what did you think of him?"

  "Well, if I'm any judge of character, he'll soon be back to make moretrouble."

  "No, I mean Father Benedict."

  "He seemed pleasant enough," Mr. Ayling said slowly. "However, I can'tsay I went for the crystal ball demonstration."

  "Oh, anyone could tell that was the bunk!"

  "Frankly, it gave me
quite a jolt."

  "Oh, you mean the monk's warning!"

  "Not that," replied Mr. Ayling. "His description of Mrs. Hawthorne andher daughter. Of course, I've never seen either of them, but the picturehe conjured up seemed to fit them."

  "Oh, he probably made it up." Penny started the car which rolled withcreaking tires over the hilly, snow-packed road toward the city. "Youdescribed Mrs. Hawthorne to him earlier, you know."

  "So I did. Except for one small detail, the reading would not haveimpressed me."

  "And that detail?"

  "In describing the girl on the beach, Father Benedict said she waswearing a black cameo ring."

  "So he did! You certainly never mentioned that to him!"

  "It rather jarred me," admitted Mr. Ayling. "Because, when RhodaHawthorne last was seen, she was wearing just such a cameo ring!"