  In the chapel bedroom Rhoda Hawthorne had been greatly cheered to realize that soon she might be freed from imprisonment. The brief conversation with Penny through the closet peephole encouraged her to believe that almost at once help would come. Penny is proving to be one of the best friends I ever had and I hardly know her, she thought. I wish now I had told her everything, especially about the sapphire. With regret the girl recalled how she had rebuffed Penny and Louise on the occasion when they had offered her a ride into Riverview. But at that time she had considered them strangers who only meant to pry into her affairs. If I had told everything then, Grandmother and I might have been spared much suffering, she reflected. I should have asked them to take me to the police. The worst mistake of my life was coming back to this horrible place. Restlessly, Rhoda tramped about the chapel room. The air was very stuffy and the absence of windows distressed her. She felt oppressed, as if the four walls were pressing in upon her. The room was scantily furnished with only the huge canopied bed, an old fashioned dresser, and a table. There were no chairs. Groping on the dresser, the girl found a stub of a candle in a holder. At first she could discover no matches. However, after examining all the dresser drawers, she came upon one. Shielding it carefully from draughts, she managed to light it and ignite the wick of the candle. “It won’t burn longer than twenty minutes,” she estimated. “But by that time, perhaps Penny will be back here with help.” The dim light depressed rather than cheered the girl. Cold currents of air coming from the chinks of the walls caused the flame to flicker weirdly, and almost go out. A grotesque figure weaved like a huge shadow-boxer on the expanse of smoky plaster. At first, watching it in fascination, Rhoda could not determine its cause. Then, with no little relief, she decided it was a shadow of the bed draperies, moving slightly with the draughts of cold air. The room had no heat. Soon, against her will, Rhoda was driven by the chill to seek the warmth of the canopied bed. With repugnance she eyed the strange, old-fashioned piece of furniture which dominated the room. The bed was wide enough to accommodate three or four persons comfortably. Tall posters of twisted wood supported a carved framework to which were attached dusty, scarlet draperies. A moth-eaten carpet covered a section of floor directly beneath the bedstead. Rhoda gave it only a passing glance and did not think to look under its curling, frayed edges. With a shiver of distaste, she pulled aside the draperies and crawled into the bed. No cover had been provided, but there were clean sheets. The damp-smelling spread offered a little relief from the cold. For some time Rhoda lay staring at the beamed ceiling and trying in her mind to reconstruct the old chapel as it might have been in the days when the monastery was a religious center. The girl had not the slightest intention of falling asleep. She felt wide awake, tense in every muscle. Not a sound escaped her, and every noise seemed intensified. A board creaked. It’s nothing, she told herself. All old houses make strange sounds, especially when a wind is blowing. Yet disturbing thoughts plagued the girl. What did Father Benedict intend to do with her? Why had he locked her in this particular room? Suddenly Rhoda stiffened and clutched the sheet convulsively. Was it imagination or had she heard a low moan? The sound had seemed to come from beneath the bed. Half tempted to look beneath the draperies, she resisted the impulse. I did hear something, she thought. It sounded as if someone were in pain. And the noise came from the cellar below! Now to torment the girl came reflections of unexplained happenings since her arrival at the monastery. On several nights she had heard disturbances from the cellar region. Winkey, she knew, made frequent trips to the crypt upon one pretext or another. Suddenly Rhoda was startled by a light and repeated tapping on the wall near the closet peephole. Certain that it was Penny who had returned, she leaped out of bed and bounded across the room. The panel of wood moved back and two eyes peered in at her. “Is that you, Penny?” Rhoda whispered eagerly. “Julia!” was the answer. “Oh,” Rhoda murmured in bitter disappointment. “I hoped—” “Master send you some supper,” the servant mumbled. “Bread and coffee.” “I don’t want them!” “Better you eat and drink,” Julia admonished. “But do not sleep. This room is evil—evil!” “You’re telling me!” retorted Rhoda, lapsing into slang. “All I want is to get out of here. Julia, let me free and I’ll pay you well! I’ll give you anything you want!” “No key.” “But you know where it is kept?” “The master keep keys on him always.” “He would! Can’t you trick him or something?” Seeing the old woman’s blank stare, Rhoda sighed and answered her own question. “No, it’s too much to expect. But maybe you could slip away from here and bring help—” “Master never let me out of the house. My place is in the kitchen. I must go there now—to the kitchen.” “Wait!” Rhoda checked her. “You say Father Benedict sent some food? On second thought, I’ll take it. He may not give me anything again for a long while. I expect to be out of here soon, but something could go wrong.” Rhoda longed to ask Old Julia if she had seen Penny or if the girl had escaped. However, knowing that the old woman might divulge the secret to Father Benedict, she wisely did not bring up the subject. Julia thrust a hard crust of bread in through the peephole, and then shoved a cup of steaming black coffee into her hand. “Thanks, Julia,” Rhoda said. “I know you mean well. Working in a place like this isn’t your fault. How did you ever meet Father Benedict anyhow?” The question was an unfortunate one. Apparently, unpleasant recollections stirred in the woman’s brain, for her eyes became wild. She muttered gibberish Rhoda could not understand. Then she slammed shut the peephole. A moment later, Rhoda heard her footsteps as she left the closet and retreated down the corridor. “Poor old Julia,” she sighed. “Wonder if I’ll ever come to the same pass she’s in? I’m sure I will if I have to spend a night in this torture chamber!” Shivering, Rhoda climbed back into bed. She bit into the bread. Discovering it to be moldy, she hurled it into a far corner of the room. Rhoda was cold and the hot coffee smelled good. She sipped it cautiously. The brew tasted peculiar, sweetish and unlike any coffee she ever had had before. Nevertheless, it was hot and would warm her chilled bones perhaps. She drank the entire cupful and leaned back on the pillow. What was it Julia said, she mused drowsily. Oh, yes, I must stay awake. Must stay awake. But the warmth of the bed was closing in on her, inviting her to shut her eyes. Though she fought against it, she could feel sleep taking possession of her. She tried to raise her hand and found it too heavy to lift. Only then did the frightening truth seep into her mind. She had been drugged! Undoubtedly, Father Benedict had slipped a heavy sleeping powder into the coffee! And she stupidly had drunk all of the brew. The sound of the peephole panel moving again, aroused her momentarily from the stupor into which she rapidly was falling. Rhoda saw a face at the opening and recognized Father Benedict. He spoke no word, but gazed at her with an expression of evil gloating. The girl tried to move but her limbs seemed paralyzed. She could not stir. Then the panel closed and Father Benedict had gone. Rhoda fell into a sleep only to be rudely awakened as the huge bed gave a slight jerk. The stupefied girl could not think where she was for a moment. Her head was a-whirl and the room seemed to be spinning. Like a person taking ether, she felt as if she were slipping farther and farther away from reality with each breath. The canopied bed had come to life and was moving slowly downward through an opening in the floor. Rhoda stifled an impulse to laugh. Perspiration broke out in every pore as she suddenly knew that it was not a dream nor a horrible imagining. The bed actually was moving! As she realized her desperate plight, the girl struggled to free herself from the bed clothing. But her limbs refused to obey the commands of her mind. Paralyzed with fright, she tried to scream and made only a choking sound in her throat. |
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