  “Penny, tell me the truth,” Mrs. Weems urged as they drove home together. “Didn’t you push the ouija board?” “Of course,” laughed Penny. “But if I hadn’t, Al Gepper would have. He was trying hard enough!” “He said you were resisting the spirits.” “That was the worst sort of nonsense,” Penny returned impatiently. “Gepper is a fraud, and I wish you hadn’t told him about your inheritance.” “How can you accuse him of being a fraud after you saw his marvelous demonstration? The table actually rose from the floor.” “I know it did,” Penny acknowledged unwillingly. “But it must have been trickery.” “How could it have been? The table was an ordinary one. Mrs. Hodges uses it every day of her life.” “I don’t know how he did it,” Penny responded. “All the same, I am sure he’s a trickster. Promise me you won’t tell him anything more about yourself or the inheritance.” “Very well, I’ll promise if it gives you satisfaction,” the housekeeper replied. “However, I do intend to keep my appointment.” Penny had no opportunity to relate to her father what had occurred at the Hodges home, for Mr. Parker was absent on a two-day business trip to a distant town. Feeling that she must tell someone, she sought Louise Sidell, and they discussed every angle of the affair. “Will you attend the sÉance with Mrs. Weems?” Louise asked her curiously. “Will I?” Penny repeated. “I’ll be right there with bells! I intend to expose Mr. Al Gepper if it’s the last act of my life!” Returning home later in the afternoon, she found Mrs. Weems sitting on the living room floor, sorting a drawer of old photographs. “You’re not packing your things already?” Penny asked in alarm. “Only these photographs,” the housekeeper responded. “I wouldn’t have started the task, only I got into it when the agent came.” “Agent?” “A man from the Clamont Photograph Studio.” “Never heard of the place.” “It’s opening this week. They’re having a special offer—three old photographs enlarged for only twenty-five cents. I gave the man Cousin David’s picture and two others.” “That is a bargain,” remarked Penny. “I wish I had been here.” The evening meal was served, and afterwards Mrs. Weems devoted herself to the reading of travel books borrowed from the library. Penny could find no occupation to satisfy her. She turned the radio on, switched it off again, and wandered restlessly from room to room. Finally she went to the telephone and called Louise. “How about a little adventure?” she proposed. “And don’t ask for explanations.” “Will we be home by ten o’clock? That’s the parental deadline.” “Oh, yes, we’ll make it easily. Meet me at the corner of Carabel and Clinton Streets.” Mrs. Weems was so engrossed in her book that she merely nodded as Penny explained that she and Louise were going for a walk. Reaching the appointed corner the girl found her chum awaiting her. “Tell me about this so-called adventure,” she commanded. “Where are we going?” “To the Celestial Temple, Lou. At least, we’ll look at it from the outside. Meetings are held there nearly every night at eight o’clock.” “Penny, I don’t think I care to go.” “Nonsense! The meetings are open to the public, aren’t they? We’ll have a very interesting time.” “Oh, all right,” Louise consented reluctantly. “But I can’t understand why you’re so interested in the place.” The girls took a bus to the end of the line, then walked three blocks until they came to Butternut Lane. For long stretches there were only scattered houses and the street lamps were far between. Becoming increasingly uneasy, Louise urged her chum to turn back. “Why, we’re at our destination now,” Penny protested. “I am sure that must be the building.” She pointed to an old, rectangular brick structure only a few yards ahead. Obviously it once had been a church for there was a high bell tower, and behind the building a cluster of neglected tombstones gleamed in the moonlight. The evenly spaced windows were illuminated, and music could be heard. “Are you sure this is the place?” Louise inquired dubiously. “It looks like a church to me, and they’re holding a service.” “Oh, the building hasn’t been used for such purposes in over fifteen years,” Penny explained. “I investigated, so I know its history. Until three years ago it was used as a county fire station. Only recently it was reclaimed by this Omar Society of Celestial Thought.” The girls moved closer. Through an open window they were able to see fifteen or twenty people seated in the pews. A woman played a wheezing organ while a man led the off-key singing. “Let’s go inside,” Penny proposed. Louise held back. “Oh, no, we can see everything from here. It looks as if it were a very stupid sort of meeting.” “Appearances are often deceiving. I want a ringside seat.” Penny pulled her chum toward the entrance door. There they hesitated, reading a large placard which bore the invitation: The Public Is Invited. Services at eight p.m. daily. “We’re part of the public, Lou,” urged Penny. “Come along.” She boldly opened the door, and there was no retreat. Heads turned slightly as the girls entered the rear of the Temple. As quickly they turned forward again, but not before Penny had gained an impression, of sharp, appraising faces. A man arose, bowed, and offered the girls his bench, although many others were available. They slipped into the pew, accepting a song book which was placed in Louise’s hand. While her chum sang in a thin, squeaky voice, Penny allowed her gaze to wander over the room. At the far end she saw a door which apparently opened into the bell tower. On a slightly raised platform where the leader stood, were two black-draped cabinets somewhat similar to the one she had seen at Mrs. Hodges’ cottage. Otherwise, there was nothing of unusual interest. The services were decorous to the point of being boring. Yet as the meeting went on, Penny and Louise both felt that they were being studied. More than once they surprised persons gazing at them. At the conclusion of the session which lasted no longer than thirty minutes, the leader asked the audience if any “brother” were present who wished to attempt a spirit communication. Immediately, Penny sat up a bit straighter, anticipating that interesting demonstrations were in store. Nor was she mistaken. A thin, hard-faced man went to the rostrum, and in a loud voice began to call upon the spirits to make known their presence. Signs were at once forthcoming. The empty pews began to dance as if alive. The speaker’s table lifted a foot from the floor and a pitcher of water fell from it, smashing into a dozen pieces. Louise, her eyes dilated with fear, edged closer to Penny. “Let’s go,” she pleaded. Penny shook her head. A woman dressed in blue silk glided down the aisle, stopping beside the girls. She held a tray upon which were a number of objects, an opal ring, a knife, and several pins. “Dearie,” she said to Penny, “if you would care to have a message from a departed soul, place a trinket in this collection. Any personal object. Our leader will then exhort the spirit to appear.” “No, thank you,” replied Louise, without giving her chum a chance to speak. “Perhaps, you would prefer a private reading,” the woman murmured. “I give them at my home, and the fee is trivial. Only a dollar.” “Thank you, no,” Louise repeated firmly. “I’m not interested.” The woman shrugged and moved on down the aisle, pausing beside an elderly man to whom she addressed herself. “Lou, why did you discourage her?” Penny whispered. “We might have learned something.” “I’ve learned quite enough. I’m leaving.” Louise squeezed past her chum, heading for the exit. Penny had no choice but to follow. Before they could reach the door, it suddenly opened from the outside. A young man who had not bothered to remove his hat, entered. Seeing the girls, he abruptly halted, then turned and retreated. Penny quickened her step. Taking Louise’s hand she pulled her along at a faster pace. They reached the vestibule. It was deserted. Penny peered up and down the dark street. “Well, he’s gone,” she remarked. “Who?” Louise questioned in a puzzled voice. “You mean that man who entered the Temple and then left so suddenly?” “I do,” responded Penny. “Unless my eyes tricked me, he was none other than Al Gepper!” |
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