CHAPTER 1 MIDNIGHT AT THE GATE

After a long, tiring climb, the two friends, Penny Parker and Jerry Livingston, had reached the summit of Knob Hill, far above the city of Riverview.

Now as they paused in the moonlight to catch their breath, the slim, golden-haired girl bent to adjust the irons of her skis before making a swift descent to the clearing below.

“We’ll not have many more glorious skiing nights like this one,” she said regretfully. “Anytime now, the weather is due to turn warm.”

Jerry, a reporter at the Riverview Star, nodded as his gaze swept the snowy hillside, unmarked save for the herring-bone tracks made by their own skis.

Tall and muscular, he was several years older than Penny, who attended high school. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, giving him the appearance of a semi-amused spectator of the world’s goings-on.

“Jerry, it’s getting late,” she reminded him. “This will have to be our last run tonight. Ready?”

“Okay, I’ll race you to the valley!” the reporter challenged. “Let’s go!”

Digging in their poles, they flashed off down the hillside. Though they started together, Penny soon forged ahead, descending the steep slope in graceful, curving Christiania turns.

Beneath the mellow moon, snow crystals were brilliant with light. Every pine bristled with glowing icicles. Penny, feeling the rush of wind on her cheek, drew in her breath and was glad to be alive.

With effortless ease, she swung her hips for the sharp turns between the trees. Finally reaching the clearing, she brought up with a spectacular jump-turn and waited for Jerry who was close behind.

“You’re getting faster every trip!” he praised. “I haven’t a chance any more!”

Penny laughed, and with her arm linked in his, glided on to the fire where a group of noisy young people were roasting wieners and boiling coffee.

“Time you’re getting back!” declared Louise Sidell, a dark-haired girl in heavy red woolen snowsuit. She was on her knees in the snow, feeding hickory chips to the cherry red fire.

Louise considered Penny her dearest friend. Though she would not have admitted it, she was slightly green-eyed whenever another person claimed any of her chum’s attention.

“M—m! That coffee smells delicious!” Penny cried, sniffing the fragrant aroma. “I’m starved too!”

She and Jerry made their own sandwiches and poured the steaming beverage. After they had finished eating, the reporter suggested one last climb to Knob Hill.

“It’s nearly midnight,” said Louise, before Penny could accept. “Oughtn’t we to be starting home?”

Immediately a loud chorus of protest arose from other members of the party. Penny looked at her wristwatch regretfully.

“I hate to break up the party,” she said. “But I promised Dad I would be in fairly early tonight. Lou and I will run along, and the rest of you stay.”

“I’ll take you home if you must leave,” Jerry offered.

“Oh, Penny has her car,” said Louise quickly. “It’s parked on the roadside just over the hill.”

“Yes,” Penny added, “we’ll ski down there and be home in a few minutes.”

“You’re not afraid to go alone?” Jerry asked teasingly.

“Afraid?” The question caught Penny by surprise. “Why should we be?”

“You’ll have to pass the old deserted Abbington Monastery to reach your car. It’s a spooky place at night!”

Penny arose and slipped her wrists through the loops of her ski poles. “Now don’t put ideas into our heads!” she chuckled. “It’s just another building.”

“Sure you don’t want me to go along?” urged Jerry.

“Of course not! Louise and I can handle any ghost we’ll meet tonight!”

The girls glided away, pausing at the top of the slope to wave goodbye to their friends. Then they shot down the hill on a trail which skirted a dense grove of pine.

Ahead loomed the gloomy old Abbington Monastery, a structure of moldy stone enclosed by a high brick wall. To the right, inside the enclosure, was an ancient graveyard, many of its white stones at rakish angles.

Penny studied the building with keen interest as she waited for Louise to catch up with her. Built generations earlier, the property first had been used by an order of Black Friars bound to the vows of poverty and obedience.

Later, the monastery had been taken over by an order of nuns, but as the buildings deteriorated, the property had been abandoned. For ten years now, it had stood unoccupied.

“Ugly old place!” puffed Louise, pausing beside her chum to catch her breath. “All the windows broken—why, that’s funny!”

“What is?” demanded Penny.

“The windows aren’t broken! They’ve been replaced!”

“Probably the owner did it to save his property from going completely to wreck and ruin. Wonder who owns the place anyhow?”

“The last I heard, it was sold at public auction for taxes. I think a real estate man bought it for a song.”

“Then maybe he intends to fix it up for rent or sale,” Penny remarked. “But who would want to live in that ancient shell? Somehow, the place gives me the creeps!”

Louise was staring hard at an upstairs window of the distant building.

“Penny!” she exclaimed. “I saw a moving light just then!”

“Where?”

Louise pointed to the window high on the stone wall of the monastery.

“I don’t see anything,” replied Penny. “You must have imagined it.”

“I did not! The light is gone now. But I saw it plainly. It may have been from a lantern. Someone was moving from room to room!”

“Maybe it was a reflection of moonlight then.” Undisturbed, Penny removed her skis. Carefully placing the running surfaces together, she threw them over her left shoulder.

Far away, in the city of Riverview, a tower clock began to chime the hour of midnight.

“Penny!” insisted Louise in a half-whisper. “I did see a light! Maybe the old monastery is haunted—”

“Now hush!” Penny silenced her. “What are you trying to do? Work up a case of nerves?”

“But—”

“Just climb out of those skis and come on, my pet.” Penny moved briskly away. “We’re late now.”

“Wait for me!” Frantically, Louise fumbled with her ski irons. “Don’t leave me here alone!”

“Then not another word about ghosts!” Penny chided.

However, she waited patiently until her chum had removed the skis. The two girls then walked rapidly toward the roadside where the car had been parked. No longer could they see the friendly campfire in the valley. As they drew closer to the monastery, towering pines blotted out the moonlight.

Like a powerful magnet, the old stone building drew their gaze.

Deep snow, glittering with an eerie blue lustre, lay heavy on the high boundary wall. In the deserted garden beyond the gatehouse, several statues also were covered with soft white shrouds.

Louise clutched her chum’s hand and urged her to a faster pace.

Then suddenly, with one accord, the girls halted.

Directly ahead, at the front entrance to the monastery, a big rusty gate stood slightly ajar!

“It’s open!” whispered Louise. “Why, never before have I seen that gate unlocked!”

For an instant, Penny too was slightly unnerved. But she replied steadily: “What of it? Perhaps someone has moved in.”

While Louise watched uneasily, she walked to the gate, fingering the rusty chain which dangled in the snow.

Then boldly, she pushed the gate farther open.

“Don’t go in there!” Louise warned, her voice sharp with anxiety. “Please come on.”

Penny’s ears were deaf to the plea. She stared intently at a trail of footprints which led from where she stood to a circular stone gatehouse only a few yards away. The marks were very large and had been made by a man’s heavy boot.

“Lou—” she began, but the words froze on her lips.

From inside the monastery came a shrill, piercing scream. As the girls huddled together, the sound died slowly away.

Then a silence, even more terrifying, fell upon the grounds.