CHAPTER 14 STORM WARNINGS

Penny dropped down on her knees beside Lorinda, peering into the empty wooden box.

“I hope you don’t think Salt and I took anything when we were here,” she murmured uncomfortably. “We never even opened the chest.”

“Of course I know you didn’t,” Lorinda replied. “Such a thought never entered my mind. But it’s disturbing to know these things are gone. Why weren’t the other trophies taken also?”

“Possibly, because the person who stole them thought the objects inside the chest would not be so quickly missed.”

Lorinda nodded as if in agreement, and closed the chest. As she straightened up, a tense, strained expression came over her face, and she stiffened.

“Listen!” she whispered.

From behind the walls of the house came a muffled dum—dum—dum of a drum. Even as the girls tensely listened, the sound died away.

“Could this cottage have a secret panel?” Penny asked in an excited voice.

“I don’t think so.” Badly frightened, Lorinda tried not to show it. “At least I never heard of one.”

Penny began tapping the walls, none of which gave off a hollow sound. The section by the fireplace appeared somewhat thicker than the others. However, if it contained a moveable panel, she could not locate it.

Her gaze fell upon the cocoanut shell lamp, its bowl nearly exhausted of oil.

“Lorinda,” she inquired, “is this room usually lighted?”

“Why, no.”

“When Salt and I were here, we saw the cocoanut shell lamp burning. A little oil is left in it now.”

“I can’t imagine how it came to be there,” Lorinda said in a hushed voice. “My stepfather may have filled it long ago, but he certainly never spoke of it.”

Hurriedly the girls left the cottage, closing the door tightly behind them. Lorinda tested it twice to make certain the lock had caught.

“The sound of those drums—” she murmured. “Penny, did I imagine it?”

“I assure you, you didn’t. I heard them too.”

“Then the sound came from the beach,” Lorinda declared firmly. “It couldn’t have been otherwise. No one is anywhere around here.”

“Let’s go to the beach and look around,” Penny proposed.

Almost at a run, they cut across the garden to the steps which led to the river’s edge. Reaching the beach they paused to listen. No sound of drums could be heard and no one was in sight.

“It couldn’t have come from here,” Penny said. “Lorinda, that drumming definitely was tied up with the cottage.”

“But the sound was muffled and far away.”

“The cottage may have a passageway connection.”

“I never heard of such a thing.”

“How long ago was the cottage built, Lorinda?”

“The summer after Mother and my stepfather were married. I remember, Mother and I went away for a month to visit a cousin. When we returned, the cottage was finished. My stepfather ordered it done while we were away. Mother didn’t like it one bit.”

“Then you actually weren’t here when the cottage was built? For all you know, a secret passageway or false panels in the walls, may have been put in?”

“I suppose it could have been done,” Lorinda admitted reluctantly.

“Who would know about the cottage except your stepfather? Did you learn the builder’s name?”

“I’m not sure there was one. I think my stepfather and Antón did most of the work themselves.”

“Let’s talk to Antón,” suggested Penny. “Perhaps he can shed light on the mystery of those whispering, drum-pounding walls!”

Antón, however, was nowhere to be found. After searching for him in the house and on the grounds, the girls abandoned the search.

By this time it was growing late, so Penny regretfully bade her friend goodbye, and returned home.

Try as she would, she could not forget the strange events of the afternoon, nor Mrs. Rhett’s obsession that she would have a long and fatal illness.

“Even now that woman is mentally ill,” she thought. “I do hope Lorinda calls in a doctor without delay.”

Although removed from the depressing mansion atmosphere, Penny found it impossible to forget the effigy and the conviction Lorinda had of its powers.

“Dad,” she said abruptly that night when dinner was over. “Do you believe in black magic?”

“I don’t believe in any kind of magic, black, red, pink or green,” he answered absently. “What’s on your mind now?”

Penny told him of her adventure at the Rhett estate. She confidently expected her father to make light of the entire affair, but to her surprise he listened with flattering attention and asked many questions.

“It’s fantastic!” he exclaimed when she finished. “Utterly fantastic! Yet I’ve read of cases where natives have been taken ill and although doctors declared not a thing was the matter with them, they weakened and died. Is Mrs. Rhett an hysterical type of woman?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then she may be in real danger! Obviously, something underhanded is going on at the mansion!”

Pulling himself out of a comfortable chair, Mr. Parker went to the hall closet for his hat, coat and cane.

“You’re not going to the police station, are you, Dad?”

“No, I want to talk this over first with a man of my acquaintance who is better versed in cult practices and superstitions than anyone I know. He’s Professor Kennedy of Riverview College. He spent many years in Africa, Egypt and along the Amazon river.”

“May I go with you, Dad?”

“Come along,” he invited. “You know all the facts, and I may get them mixed up.”

Twenty minutes later Penny and her father were in the cozy study of Professor James Kennedy on Braemer Drive. An elderly man with a very soft voice, he greeted the Parkers cordially and displayed keen interest as they revealed the purpose of their call.

“I once met Mr. Rhett at a dinner party,” Professor Kennedy remarked. “He is a highly intelligent gentleman and we had a very animated conversation.”

“Did Rhett impress you as a man who might dabble in black magic practice to gain his ends?” Mr. Parker inquired.

Professor Kennedy dropped a log on the fire before he answered. Considering his words carefully, he said:

“Undoubtedly, Mr. Rhett would have the knowledge, but he struck me as a man of unusual character. Suppose you explain more fully what you have in mind.”

Professor Kennedy listened soberly as Penny recounted her many observations while at the Rhett mansion. He frowned slightly as she told how Mrs. Rhett had found the burnt match ends tied with scarlet string. When she disclosed how Lorinda and she destroyed the wooden doll, he no longer could remain silent.

“Indeed, you are correct in thinking someone may be trying to practice a little jungle magic!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Rhett may be in grave danger unless we take counter-measures.”

“But why should anyone seek to harm her?” Penny inquired. “You don’t think she’ll actually be physically hurt?”

“Her mind will be influenced—poisoned,” the professor explained. “Oh, I don’t mean a drug will be used, but there are subtle and just as effective ways. Now those burned match ends and the doll are only symbols, harmless in themselves, yet they are a means by which Mrs. Rhett may be made seriously ill.”

“Merely by the use of suggestion?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s all such nonsense!” Penny protested.

“To you—yes. But not to Mrs. Rhett. Tell me, does she know that the doll existed?”

“Yes, she learned about it—probably from Antón or Celeste.”

The professor nodded. “The intended victim always knows,” he declared. “By one means or another he is informed through those who seek his ruin. To be effective, the person must fear the mumbo-jumbo hocus-pocus.”

“Mrs. Rhett does fear it,” Penny confirmed. “What’s worse, she already believes herself marked for long illness. She actually looked ill today.”

“She is mentally sick, and the symptoms will develop, unless counter-measures quickly are adopted.”

“What do you advise, Professor?” asked Mr. Parker. “Perhaps if Mrs. Rhett were sent away from Riverview for a short while—”

“It would be of no avail, for the basic belief that she is ill would remain in her mind. No, this thing, must be plucked out at the root. The doll has been burned. That is good! Now the one who seeks to will this sickness upon Mrs. Rhett must be found and confronted with his crime.”

“We don’t know who is behind it,” said Mr. Parker.

“I read in the papers Mr. Rhett has vanished. However, I wonder, is it not possible he actually is still in Riverview?”

“But you said yourself, Mr. Rhett doesn’t appear the type of man to do such a ghastly thing,” broke in Mr. Parker.

“So I did, but we dare not close our eyes to such a possibility. I believe you mentioned two servants, Antón and Celeste, who also are versed in cult practices, no doubt.”

“Celeste is the one I suspect!” cried Penny. “But she has no good reason for hating Mrs. Rhett who seemingly always has been kind to her.”

“Regardless, my advice is that the two servants be watched closely. And when the guilty person is found, as he must be, ordinary threats or punishments are likely to prove useless in dealing with him. He must be fought with his own superstitious weapons.”

Mr. Parker and Penny talked on and on with the professor whose discussion of the effects of auto-suggestion only served to heighten their anxiety regarding Mrs. Rhett. When they left the house at midnight, Penny was deeply depressed.

“It’s all very well for the professor to say ‘find the guilty party and fight him with his own weapons,’” she declared, “but how can we do it? In the first place, Lorinda is our only contact with the Rhett household.”

“Secondly, we’re not gifted in all this hocus-pocus. It’s a case for the police,” added her father.

“But we have no proof of anything,” Penny pointed out.

“True,” agreed her father. “I may talk to the police chief about it. Meanwhile, we’re interested in keeping abreast of developments for the Star. If you’re sent out there again, be watchfully alert, but say nothing to Lorinda or anyone else about your suspicions. The case could take an ugly turn. In that event, I don’t want you involved.”

“It’s fun working on the story, Dad. But I also want to help Lorinda and especially her mother.”

Penny realized her father had given excellent advice, and made up her mind to follow it. She became thoughtfully silent as they motored home.

“Wonder what the news is tonight?” Mr. Parker remarked, halting the car at a street corner to buy a newspaper.

Glaring headlines occupied the front page. Mr. Parker’s first thought was that the missing banker had been found. He snapped on the interior car light to read the banner.

His stunned silence as he stared at it, caused Penny to peer over his shoulder. The lead story was not about Mr. Rhett’s mysterious disappearance. Instead, the bold black type proclaimed:

“STORM WARNINGS POSTED. RIVERVIEW BELIEVED TO BE IN PATH OF APPROACHING HURRICANE!”