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 Penny 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!”