The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

CHAPTER 21

  CEREMONIAL CAVE

  The tunnel sloped gently downward, apparently toward the river beach. As the girls moved along, the pulsing of the drums came with increasing crescendo. They could hear the wailing chant plainly now, an incantation in which many voices were united.

  “Better switch off the light,” Lorinda advised in a whisper. “We’re getting close.”

  Penny darkened the flashlight, groping her way along the damp, rocky wall. The passage now had widened, and suddenly ahead, she saw the flickering flame of a torch.

  In the shadowy light swayed a half dozen celebrants of the weird rites. The room was circular, a cavern carved from the rocks years before by the action of water.

  Penny’s gaze focused upon the dancing figures. Antón, barefooted and grotesque with a red turban wound about his head, led the procession, beating out a rhythm and shaking the gourd rattle which had been stolen from the thatched cottage.

  Behind him came a drummer Penny did not recognize, and three other dancers, who carried aloft a banner upon which were metallic, glittering serpentine symbols.

  But it was Celeste, garbed in scarlet with an embroidered stole over her shoulders, who dominated the scene. Seated before an altar where two tall candles burned, she pounded out the basic rhythm on a long, narrow drum.

  “The Zudi!” whispered Lorinda. “She stole it from the safe!”

  “Let’s make her give it up!”

  “No! No!” Lorinda grasped Penny’s arm, holding her back. “It would be folly to show ourselves now. Antón, Celeste and their stupid converts are hypnotized by their own music. If they knew we were watching their rites, there’s no telling what they would do.”

  “Celeste is a cruel, dangerous woman.”

  “We’ll turn her over to the police. I realize now it’s the only thing to do.”

  Fascinated, the girls watched the strange sight. The drums were beating faster now, and at each boom of the Zudi, Antón leaped with frenzied glee rigid as an arrow into the air.

  “Who are the others?” Penny whispered.

  Lorinda shook her head. “No-good friends of Antón and Celeste probably,” she returned. “Recruits from the slums of Riverview.”

  On the altar were many objects, a basket of bread, a basin of cooked fish, a carved wooden serpent and a wreath of feathers. A kettle contained a brew from which the dancers at intervals dipped with a gourd cup and drank.

  Outside the cave, the wind howled an accompaniment to the wild ceremony, covering the shrill shrieks and savage laughter.

  “We’ve seen enough of this!” whispered Penny. “Let’s get the police and break it up!”

  “All right,” agreed Lorinda. “I hate to turn Antón and Celeste over to the authorities, but I’m convinced now they have reverted to heathen ways, and may even be responsible for Mother’s sickness.”

  They started to retreat, making no sound. In the darkness Lorinda stumbled over a small rock. She made no outcry as she saved herself from a fall, but her shoes scuffed noisily and her body thudded heavily against the wall.

  Instantly the Zudi drum ceased its rhythm. “What was that?” they heard Celeste ask sharply.

  The girls huddled against the wall. An instant later, Antón, a torch in his hand, peered down the tunnel.

  His cry told the girls they had been seen. In panic, they started down the passageway with Antón in hot pursuit. And close at his heels came Celeste and her followers.

  Escape was impossible. Before the girls had gone a half dozen yards they were overtaken. Though they struggled to free themselves, Antón’s grasp was like a steel bracelet upon their arms. They were half dragged back to the cave.

  “Antón! Celeste! What is the meaning of this?”Lorinda demanded, seeking to regain control of the servants by sheer power of will.

  She tried to shake herself free, but Antón did not release her. He awaited the word of his wife.

  “Tie them up!” said Celeste harshly.

  “Celeste, have you lost your mind!” Lorinda cried.

  In the flickering light of the torch, the woman’s face was like a rigid mask. Eyes burned with hatred; cheeks were deeply indrawn. Lorinda felt as if she were gazing upon a stranger, and suddenly was afraid.

  “You dared to steal Father’s drum!” she challenged.

  “It is now my drum,” retorted Celeste.

  “You spied upon me many times until you learned the combination of the safe!” Lorinda accused.

  Celeste did not deny the charge. She was burrowing behind the low altar and from the box-like structure drew forth a long stout cord. Severing it with the blade of a sharp knife, she handed the two pieces to Antón who attempted to tie Lorinda’s hands behind her.

  The girl fought like a wild cat, and Penny, held by one of Celeste’s followers, sought to free herself, but it was useless. She too was tightly bound and thrown down on the floor of the cave.

  “Celeste, why are you doing this cruel thing?” Lorinda asked in a pleading tone. “Does it mean nothing to you that Father brought you here, fed you, clothed you—gave you many advantages?”

  For a moment Celeste softened and seemed to hesitate. Lorinda was quick to press the advantage.

  “My father and my mother have been very kind to you—”

  Mention of her mother’s name proved unfortunate. Celeste’s face hardened into rigid lines again and she said furiously:

  “I hate her! May her flesh rot away and her bones be torn asunder!”

  “Celeste! And to think we ever trusted you! Mother is ill because you have willed it so—it was you who made the wicked effigy doll—you who kept planting in her mind the idea that she would become ill and die!”

  “And I have the will too!” the woman said gleefully. “I told Antón to get it from the library! Then I called you to your mother’s room so he could snatch it from the table!”

  “But why did you do it, Celeste? What have you gained?”

  “You will not steal my master’s money! The will is destroyed—burned!”

  “Steal my stepfather’s money? Indeed, you are out of your mind, Celeste! My stepfather has disappeared and may never be seen again.”

  “He lives.”

  “How do you know?” Lorinda cried eagerly.

  “Celeste know—feel it here.” The woman touched her breast.

  “You’ve seen him—talked to him since he went away!” Lorinda accused.

  “No!”

  “Then unless you’ve had a message from him, you couldn’t know whether he is alive or dead.”

  “Celeste know,” the woman replied stubbornly. “We save the money for him.”

  “If my stepfather returns I’ll be perfectly happy for him to have Mother’s estate. You’re all mixed up, Celeste. Now let’s put an end to this nonsense. Free us!”

  “No,” retorted the grim woman. “Celeste and Antón go away now. Perhaps find master. You will stay in cave.”

  “Celeste, how did you know about this passage and cave?” Lorinda asked, stalling for time.

  “Antón help build it.”

  “But why should my stepfather build the passageway?”Lorinda murmured. “It doesn’t seem like him.”

  Celeste did not answer. Gathering up the machete, the Zudi drum, the embroidered altar cloth and other stolen treasures, she prepared to leave.

  “It was you who whispered the warning at the thatched cottage!” accused Penny. “You wanted to prevent discovery of this cave!”

  Celeste’s cruel smile acknowledged the truth. Saying something to Antón in their own language, she padded off down the passageway.

  All save Antón now had gone. He blew out the altar candles, picked up the pine torch and would have blown out the cocoanut shell lamp, had Penny not said pleadingly:

  “Please leave us a tiny light, Antón. It will be so dark here in the cave.”

  The man hesitated, glancing down the passage as if fearful Celeste would punish him for such a display of weakness. But he did as Pe
nny requested. First, however, he noted that the lamp was nearly empty of oil and could not burn many minutes. Without extinguishing it, he disappeared into the tunnel.

  Waiting only until she was certain Celeste, Antón and their converts were out of the passage, Lorinda said excitedly:

  “They forgot to gag us! We can shout for help!”

  “With a hurricane roaring outside, it’s a waste of breath,” replied Penny. “No one will be on the beach tonight, and our voices wouldn’t carry a dozen yards.”

  “Then what are we to do? Antón and Celeste mean to run away now. The police never will be able to find them unless we act quickly.”

  “I have an idea, but it may not work.”

  Penny, her hands and feet securely tied, began to roll toward the cocoanut oil lamp.

  “What are you trying to do?” Lorinda asked anxiously.

  “Maybe I can burn the cords on my wrists. That’s why I asked Antón to leave the lamp.”

  “Perhaps you can!” cried Lorinda, taking hope. “But it will be dangerous and very hard to do. The oil is almost gone. You’ll have to work fast, Penny, or you’ll lose your chance!”

  CHAPTER 22

  STRANGER IN THE STORM

  Penny squirmed and rolled until her hands were very close to the cocoanut oil lamp on the rocky floor of the cave.

  “Be careful!” Lorinda cried fearfully. “If your clothing should catch fire, nothing could save you.”

  Penny held her hands, which were bound behind her back, over the flame. The heat seared her flesh and made her wince with pain.

  “Keep it up, Penny!” encouraged her companion. “The cord is catching fire! But the lamp is almost out!”

  Penny gritted her teeth and endured the pain. Then the lamp sputtered and went out, leaving the cave to darkness.

  “Oh!” wailed Lorinda in bitter disappointment.

  Penny tugged at the wrist cords. Although not severed, they were half burned through and weakened. A hard jerk freed her hands.

  Only a moment then was required to untie the cords which held her feet. Next she freed Lorinda. As the girls started to leave through the passageway, Penny felt a cold blast of air upon her neck. Looking up, she was able to distinguish a small opening in the wall of the cave.

  “Maybe we can get out there!” she exclaimed. “Give me a boost and I’ll see!”

  Lorinda lifted her up. Scrambling like a monkey, Penny secured a toe hold and crammed her head and shoulders through the opening. A moment later she ducked back to call to her friend:

  “We can get out all right! But the storm is getting awful! I’ll crawl out and then help you.”

  Scrambling through the narrow opening, Penny found herself amid the high rocks overlooking the beach. The wind was blowing in puffs, each so powerful that she nearly was dislodged from her precarious perch.

  Reaching back through the hole, Penny offered her arms to Lorinda who succeeded in joining her. They huddled in the lee of an overhanging rock, rain driving into their faces.

  “We must get word to the police!” Penny said breathlessly.

  “And I must make certain Mother is safe!” Lorinda added. “She’s been left too long alone. Antón and Celeste may have gone back there, and in that case, anything might happen!”

  Slipping and sliding, the girls descended the rocks to the beach. The river, lashed by a sheet of rain, was dark and ugly. Much of the sand had been inundated and water bubbled at their heels as they ran toward the road.

  A car swung toward them, its headlights blurred by the rain. It parked at the curb, and the driver tooted several times as if in signal.

  “That looks like Jerry’s car!” Penny cried hopefully.

  It was, indeed, the reporter. He swung open the automobile door, and as they recognized him, they dashed across the road and gratefully slid into the shelter offered.

  “Don’t you girls know better than to be running around at a time like this?” Jerry demanded severely. “Lucky I saw you streaking up the beach!”

  “What brought you here?” Penny gasped, taking several deep breaths.

  “What brought me? Say, don’t you realize we’re in for a real storm, and it’s almost here! The radio ten minutes ago reported that Oelwein, on the coast, has been completely destroyed! I knew you came here to do a little sleuthing, Penny, and I figured someone ought to look after you.”

  “Thanks, Jerry,” she returned gratefully. “We were in trouble—plenty of it.”

  As the reporter drove on toward the Rhett mansion, Penny quickly revealed what had happened. Jerry made little comment, but his expression was grim.

  “Maybe Antón and Celeste are here,” he said as the car reached the Rhett home. “If they are, we’ll round ’em up.”

  Celeste and Antón, however, were not to be found in the mansion. Their rooms remained deserted and there was no indication that they had returned to the house after leaving the cave.

  Lorinda lost not a moment in hastening to her mother’s bedroom. To her relief, Mrs. Rhett was sleeping quietly and did not awaken.

  “Thank goodness, she is safe,” the girl murmured. “After what happened in the cave, I feared the worst.”

  “We ought to get the police on the trail of Antón and Celeste before they make their escape,” Jerry urged. “Once the full force of this storm strikes, no one will be able to stir outside.”

  He tried the telephone but the line remained dead. “I’ll drive to the police station,” he decided. “Are you girls coming along?”

  “I’ll stay with Mother,” Lorinda said. “She mustn’t be left alone.”

  Penny hesitated, intending to remain with her friend, but Jerry seized her by the arm. “Your father sent me out here to round you up, so I’ll take you to the newspaper office,” he declared. “Let’s go!”

  As they opened the front door, rain poured in and a great blast of wind nearly swept the pair from their feet.

  “Wow!” exclaimed the reporter, holding tight to Penny as with heads lowered, they ran for the car. “This is it!”

  The air was filled with flying objects, and a shingle loosened from the mansion roof, hurtled against Penny. Jerry pulled the car door open. The wind seized it, nearly wrenching it off the hinges. Gusts were of greater velocity now, with the intervals much shorter.

  For a dreadful moment, Penny and Jerry thought the car would not start. The reporter jammed his foot on the starter again and again and gave it the full choke. Suddenly, the motor caught.

  As they drove off along the river road, the force of the wind was so great it required all of Jerry’s strength to keep the car straight on the road.

  “We’ll be lucky if we reach the police station!” he exclaimed. “This is a lot worse than I figured.”

  “Jerry!”

  Seizing the reporter’s arm, Penny pointed to a crouched figure visible on the road ahead. The woman, hair flying in wild streamers, clutched a large object in her arms, and was bent almost double as she sought to move against the wind.

  “It’s Celeste!” Penny cried.

  Jerry brought the car to the roadside almost beside the servant. Not until Penny and the reporter were out of the automobile and almost upon her, did she see them. Then with a startled cry, she turned to flee. But it was too late. Jerry seized her by the arm.

  “You’re coming with us!” he ordered sharply.

  Battered and frightened by the force of the wind, Celeste, surprisingly, made no protest. Clutching the big Zudi drum, she allowed Jerry and Penny to pull her into the shelter of the car.

  “Where is Antón?” the reporter demanded.

  Celeste’s answer was a shrug. She gazed toward the mansion grounds, and ignored the pair.

  Jerry drove on. He glanced significantly at Penny who guessed that he intended to take Celeste directly to the police station.

  However, as they approached the downtown section, the wind blew with even greater power. Not a vehicle was to be seen on the streets. The Star building loomed u
p, but the police station was six blocks away.

  “We can’t make it,” Jerry decided. “I’m turning in here.”

  One of the double doors of the Star garage, where trucks were usually loaded with their papers, stood open. He drove inside, pulling up near the entrance to the newspaper pressroom on the ground floor.

  Celeste stirred to life, and made a move to get out of the car.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” said Jerry, pushing her back. “You and that drum stay with us.”

  Celeste was of a different opinion. Glaring at Jerry, she slapped at him, and again tried to get her hand on the door handle.

  “We can’t hold her here,” Jerry said. “But I have an idea! Penny, see if the pressroom door is unlocked.”

  Penny ran to test it and found it unlocked. Now that the extra was out, the pressmen had gathered in a far corner of the big room filled with giant rotary presses, to smoke and watch the storm.

  Racing back to the car, Penny made her report.

  “Good!” exclaimed Jerry.

  With Penny’s help, he got Celeste out of the car, separating her from the Zudi drum which they left in the automobile. The woman stubbornly refused to walk, so Jerry lifted her bodily and carried her kicking and struggling into the pressroom.

  Near the door was a large storage closet where tools and oil for the presses were kept. Jerry shoved Celeste into this room and turned a key in the lock.

  “That will hold her,” he observed. “While you lock the Zudi drum in the car, I’ll talk to the press foreman and tell him what we’ve done. Then Celeste can squawk her head off and it will do no good. We’ll keep her here until the storm lets up and we can get a police squad to pick her up.”

  Penny ran back to the loading garage. It was deserted now save for a lone delivery truck which stood directly in front of the paper chute. Although his cargo was loaded, the driver hesitated to try to deliver until the storm abated.

  Locking the car, Penny decided she would close the one big double garage door where rain was blowing in.

  The hurricane now roared in full fury. Peering out into the deserted street, it seemed to Penny that no person could stand against its strength. Yet as she closed the doors, she was amazed to see a scurrying figure.

  The man, his hat gone, overcoat whipped between his legs, grasped a corner of the building for support.