The Cry at Midnight Part 2

"Call off your dog!" Penny said sharply.

Only then did the figure move from the doorway into the moonlight.

"Quiet, Bruno!" he ordered in a rasping voice. "Lie down!"

As the dog obeyed, Penny caught her first plain glimpse of the deformed man's face. His skin was heavily lined and fell in deep folds at his stocky neck. But it was the dark, intent eyes which sent a s.h.i.+ver down her spine.

"Good evening," she said uneasily.

The gateman did not respond to the greeting. Instead, he demanded gruffly:

"What you doin' on this property?"

"Why, I was only investigating because the gate was unlocked," replied Penny. "I didn't know the house was occupied."

"You know it now. See that sign!" The gateman turned on his flashlight, focusing it upon a freshly painted placard tacked to a nearby tree.

The sign read, "No Trespa.s.sing."

"I'm sorry," Penny apologized, but stood her ground. "Are you the new owner of this place?"

"No, I ain't. I'm the gateman."

"Then who has taken over the building?"

"What's it to you?" the hunchback demanded unpleasantly.

"I'm interested, that's all."

"This place is being turned into an inst.i.tution," the hunchback informed her. "The new owner moved in yesterday. Now git along, so I can lock the gate."

The gateman's eagerness to be rid of her made Penny all the more determined to remain until her curiosity was satisfied.

"Perhaps I fancied it," she remarked, "but a moment ago, I thought I heard a shrill scream from inside the building."

"You may have heard the howl of the wind."

"What wind?" Penny inquired pointedly. "It's a comparatively quiet night.

I distinctly heard a scream."

"Then you got better ears than I have," the gateman muttered. "Will you go now, or do you want me to call the master?"

"I wish you would!"

Grumbling to himself, the hunchback stepped into the gatehouse and pressed a b.u.t.ton which rang a bell inside the building.

A light went on in a downstairs room, and a moment later the front door opened. Framed on the threshold stood a very tall man in dark, hooded robe.

"What's wrong, Winkey?" he called. "You rang?"

"There's a girl here wants to see you," shouted the hunchback. "She says she heard a scream and wants to know how-come."

Treading lightly in the loose snow, the thin man came down the driveway to the gate. His long, brown robes were impressive, his demeanor pious.

Penny suddenly felt very foolish indeed.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a kindly, silken-smooth voice.

"This girl's tryin' to get in," announced Winkey. "Says she heard a scream."

The hooded monk studied Penny with an intent gaze.

"You live near here?" he inquired.

"In Riverview. I was out skiing with a few friends when I pa.s.sed this old building and heard the scream. Your gateman tried to tell me it was only the wind."

"My child, doubtlessly you did hear a scream," the monk replied. "It was Old Julia, a poor woman, who unfortunately sometimes becomes disturbed in her mind."

"This isn't a mental inst.i.tution?" gasped Penny, regretting that her curiosity ever had taken her inside the grounds.

"No, my child," responded the monk. "Winkey should have explained. We have opened up the old monastery for the purpose of restoring an ancient order in which members dedicate themselves to a life of poverty, good will, and charity."

"The one you call Old Julia--she also is a member?"

The monk sighed deeply. "Old Julia is only an unfortunate whose twisted mind never can be healed by doctors. Because she had no home--no friends, I have taken her beneath my roof."

"I see," nodded Penny. "I'm very sorry to have troubled you."

"A natural mistake, my child. Is there anything else you wish to know? We have no secrets here--only serene faith and hope for a better world."

"I might inquire your name."

"Members of my flock call me Father Benedict. My baptismal name is Jay Highland. And yours?"

"Penny Parker. My father owns the _Riverview Star_."

"A newspaper?" The monk's inquiry was sharp.

"One of the best in the city," Penny said proudly.

"Your father sent you here, perhaps?"

"Oh, no! I was just pa.s.sing by and noticed the buildings were occupied."

"To be sure," murmured the monk. "I trust you will use discretion in mentioning our work here. Should we become too well known, a path will be beaten to our door, and the privacy of our order will be no more."

"I'll scarcely mention it," Penny half-heartedly promised. "Good night."

Retreating through the gate, she closed it behind her.