CHAPTER 18 THROUGH THE WINDOW

Jerry slammed on the foot brake and the car came to a jerky halt at the curb. Leaping out, they stood for a moment listening.

“Don’t hear anything now!” the reporter muttered.

“Let’s take a gander down the beach,” Penny proposed. “The sound seemed to come from that direction.”

Hand in hand they cut across a vacant lot where dead weeds came waist high, then followed a sloping path to the beach. The long stretch of sand was deserted.

“We must have imagined those drums,” Jerry said, pausing. “Or maybe it was the Legion fife and drum corps having a night practice.”

“It was the beat of a jungle drum.” Penny turned to gaze toward the Rhett mansion on the wooded hillside. All the windows, save one in an upstairs bedroom, now were dark.

By the light of a three-quarters moon which was rising over the pines, she could see the wooden steps that led from the estate down to the beach. On either side extended tiers of twisted limestone rock. It occurred to Penny that somewhere among the crannies, a cave might be tucked away. She spoke of it to Jerry.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “but I never heard of one around here.”

A gust of wind caught Penny’s felt hat, carrying it cartwheeling down the beach. She and Jerry raced in pursuit, colliding as they pounced on it together. They laughed, and as the reporter pulled the hat over Penny’s flying hair, he kissed her quickly on the cheek.

Then before she could reprimand him, he exclaimed: “Wow! That wind really is getting strong! Let’s get back to the car before we blow away!”

Penny liked Jerry and she liked the kiss. Best of all, she appreciated his consideration in never forcing serious attentions upon her. With a gay “I’ll race you!”, she ran ahead of him to the road.

Jerry took Penny directly home. Mrs. Weems had gone to bed while Mr. Parker had not returned from downtown.

“Will you come in and have a cup of chocolate?” Penny invited the reporter.

“Not tonight, thanks,” he declined. “See you tomorrow at the office.”

Penny went into the house, and after fixing herself a snack from the refrigerator, switched on the radio to catch the weather report. The news commentator, on a national hookup, warned that the hurricane continued to sweep toward the Atlantic coast, and that inland cities also were endangered.

“It really sounds serious,” she thought, turning off the radio.

As she went upstairs, Mrs. Weems called to her in a sleepy voice, so Penny stepped into the housekeeper’s bedroom for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Mrs. Weems said. “Is there any news about the approaching storm?”

“Nothing definite. The latest radio report said it’s still heading this way.”

“When will it strike?”

“Late tomorrow unless it veers off. It may be quite serious,” Penny said.

Mrs. Weems sighed and settled beneath the covers again. “If it isn’t one thing it’s another! First thing in the morning we must get the awning down, and have all the shutters taken off.”

“If the center of the hurricane should hit here, everything will go,” Penny said cheerfully. “So why worry about shutters?”

“The storm may be a severe one, but I don’t believe it will strike with hurricane force,” Mrs. Weems insisted. “In any case, the shutters are coming down, and I’ll need your help! So don’t try to skip out in the morning!”

Penny went to her own room, but before she could undress, she heard her father’s car on the driveway. He came into the house, locked the doors for the night, then climbed the stairs.

“Hello, Dad!” she called through the half open door of her bedroom. “Any news?”

“There will be by morning,” he answered grimly. “The Star is coming out with front page headlines warning the city to prepare for the worst!”

Penny stepped quickly out into the hall.

“Then Riverview is in the path of the hurricane! Is there danger that the city will be destroyed?”

“Damage to property is almost certain to be extensive. I’ve just come from a meeting with the mayor and City Council. While there’s an outside chance the city may be spared, it’s folly not to prepare for the full brunt of the storm. The mayor has issued a proclamation declaring an emergency and advising everyone to keep off the streets after noon tomorrow. Most businesses will close.”

“Then the Star will shut down too?”

“No. At such a time, folks depend more than ever upon their newspaper for accurate information. We’ll publish as long as we have a plant and our trucks can keep delivering.”

Mr. Parker’s information brought home to Penny the true seriousness of the situation. However, as she peered out of her bedroom window a few minutes later, the clear sky and bright stars belied an approaching storm.

Undressed, Penny sat for a time propped up in bed with pillows, trying to read a book. The words held little meaning. Losing interest, she snapped off the light, and snuggled down.

But she could not sleep. The dark house was filled with many strange sounds. The stairway creaked, the shutters rattled, and in the bathroom, water dripped regularly from a faucet.

Thoughts raced rampant through Penny’s mind. She squirmed and tossed and became increasingly aware of the rising wind.

Suddenly she was startled by a loud crash in the yard below. Leaping out of bed, she darted to the window. A large rotten tree limb had been ripped from the backyard maple and now lay across the driveway.

“Dad will have to move it before he can get the car out of the garage in the morning,” she thought. “Some fun!”

Creeping back beneath the covers, she tried again to sleep. Instead, she found herself thinking over everything that had occurred at the Rhett mansion. Already the banker’s disappearance was fading out of the newspapers, and with a hurricane in the offing, the story would be entirely forgotten.

“The police haven’t shown much interest,” she reflected. “Unless definite clues are obtained soon, Mr. Rhett may never be traced. The case will die.”

Penny thought of the mysterious thatched roof cottage and the whispering voices.

“Those walls must have a secret panel,” she reasoned. “I believe I might find it if I had an opportunity to make a thorough investigation!”

A flapping shutter reminded Penny once more of the storm. Then came the discouraging thought that even if only the tail-end of the hurricane struck Riverview, the flimsy thatched cottage undoubtedly would be carried away and destroyed.

“Unless I get out there tomorrow, I’ll probably lose my chance!” she told herself. “Oh, dear, how will I make it when I have a thousand other things I’m supposed to do?”

Dancing tree limbs cast weird shadows on the rough plaster wall. Penny closed her eyes, but even then sleep would not come.

Suddenly the window pane crashed, and glass clattered onto the floor. Startled, Penny sat up and groped for the night table lamp. Her first thought was that a tree branch had hurtled against the pane, breaking it.

But as the light went on, she saw that only a small hole had been broken in the glass. On the floor, scarcely two feet from the bed, lay a small object wrapped in black cloth.

Penny rolled out of bed and gingerly picked it up. Carefully and with a feeling of revulsion, she untied the packet.

Inside were two black feathers, the wing of a bird, herbs which Penny could not identify, a bit of bone, and a small amount of damp earth.

There was no warning message, nothing to identify the one who had thrown the packet, yet Penny instantly knew its significance and from whence it had come.

“Either Antón or Celeste hurled it because I’ve cramped their style!” she thought. “Well, their little hex won’t work! I’ll use this evil charm to fashion their own undoing!”