The Cry at Midnight Part 9

"The optic nerve is paralyzed," said the monk, steadying her as she swayed slightly. "Vision will be normal in a moment."

"I'm beginning to distinguish objects now," Penny admitted, rea.s.sured.

The monk released her arm. Seating himself before the crystal globe, he placed his hands on the polished surface.

"Now shall I try?" he suggested. "What would you like to know about the future?"

"You might find Mrs. Hawthorne for me," the investigator said in jest.

In the darkened room, Father Benedict's hooded face looked grotesque as light from the tall tapers flickered upon his angular jaw bones.

The moment was impressive. A tomb-like silence had fallen upon the three, and the only sound was the crackle of the fire.

Then, quite suddenly, Penny was certain she heard another noise. Though the occasion should not have been one for alarm, she felt her skin p.r.i.c.kle. A tiny chill caused her to s.h.i.+ver.

Or was it a chill? Against her cheek she felt a breath of icy wind.

Somewhere beyond the room a door had opened. Unmistakably, she heard the creak of old wood.

Penny's startled gaze roved to Mr. Ayling. Oblivious to all else, the investigator was watching Father Benedict closely.

Every sense now alert, the girl listened intently. Had someone stepped on a loose board as he crept along the pa.s.sageway? Or had she merely heard the old house groaning to itself?

The creaking sound was not repeated.

Trying to throw off the pall which had fallen upon her, Penny centered her full attention upon the monk. As one hypnotized by the gla.s.s into which he peered, he mumbled words difficult to understand.

"Now the ball is clearing," he muttered. "What is this? I see a resort city on the sea coast--the rush and roar of waves. Ah, a beach! On the sand are two bathers--one a girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen with dark hair. She wears a green bathing suit. Upon her third finger is a black cameo ring."

A startled look came upon Mr. Ayling's face, but he made no comment.

"Her companion is an elderly woman," continued the monk as if speaking in a trance. "Over her shoulders is flung a dark blue beach cape. The picture is fading now--I am losing the vision."

Penny's attention, wandering again, was drawn as if by a powerful magnet to the curtains covering the exit.

In fascination, she watched. An inch at a time, the door moved outward.

Then a hand appeared between the black velvet draperies, cautiously pulling them apart.

Penny wondered if her eyes were playing tricks upon her. She felt an overpowering impulse to laugh or call out. Yet her throat was dry and tight.

The scene seemed fantastic. It couldn't be real, she told herself. Yet those curtains steadily were moving farther apart.

An arm came into view, then the side of a human figure. Last of all, a face, ghostly pale against the dark background, slowly emerged.

For one fleeting instant Penny saw a girl only a little older than herself, standing half wrapped in the folds of the velvet curtain. Their eyes met.

In that moment, through Penny's brain flashed the message that the one who crouched in the doorway was the same girl she and Louise had picked up on the road only the previous night.

"But that's crazy!" she thought. "It couldn't be the same person! I must be dreaming!"

The one behind the curtain had raised a finger to her lips as if commanding silence. Then the draperies were pulled together with a jerk and the figure was gone.

Another cold breath of air swept through the room, causing candles on either side of the crystal ball to flicker. Again Penny heard the soft _creak_, _creak_ of wood as footsteps retreated.

She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. Had her imagination played tricks upon her?

Slowly she turned her eyes upon Father Benedict, whose back had been toward the curtained door.

"Another picture is forming in the crystal ball," he muttered. "I see a man walking through a lonely wood. But what is this? Evil persons lie in wait behind the tall pine trees. Now they are waylaying him!

"They fall upon him and beat him with their cudgels. Woe is me! They leave him lying on the ground. The man is dying--dead. Oh, evil, evil! I can read no more in the gla.s.s today!"

Arising quickly, and brus.h.i.+ng a hand over his glazed eyes, Father Benedict leaned for a moment against the damp plaster wall.

"Excuse me, please," he apologized. "What I saw was most unnerving."

The monk poured himself a drink of water and lighted a lamp on the center table.

"Now I can see again," he said in a more natural tone. "A reading always is an exhausting experience."

"Your demonstration was most impressive," said Mr. Ayling. "How would you interpret your vision of Mrs. Hawthorne?"

"I should say the woman and her granddaughter at this very moment are enjoying a pleasant vacation in a sunny climate. California perhaps, or Florida."

"Mrs. Hawthorne was in Florida, but she bought a ticket to Riverview."

"Obviously, she never arrived here," replied the monk. "You see, the crystal gla.s.s never lies."

"Then your advice would be to resume my search in Florida?" the investigator asked.

"I do not presume to advise you." From a cabinet, Father Benedict removed a black cloth which he used to polish away an imaginary speck on the crystal globe. Then he covered the standard with a cloth hood and added impressively: "However, I consider it my duty to warn you of danger."

"Warn me?" exclaimed Mr. Ayling. "Of what danger?"

"My second vision was most disturbing," Father Benedict said gravely. "As I interpret it, great harm--perhaps death, will pursue the man who walks alone in the woods, unless he alters his present course. You came to Riverview for a definite purpose, Mr. Ayling?"

"Why, yes, to find Mrs. Hawthorne."

"Mr. Ayling, for your own well being, you must abandon the search."

"Why?"

"Because," said the monk very low, "the vision was sent to me that you may be saved from disaster. The man attacked in the woods was yourself, Mr. Ayling!"

CHAPTER 7 _A WARNING_