“No,” replied Al Gepper impatiently, shoving Penny through the doorway. “We can take care of this ourselves.”
The door was locked from the inside. Al pushed Penny into a chair on the front platform.
“Now sit there,” he ordered. “One peep out of you and we’ll tie you up and tape your mouth. Understand?”
“Oui, oui, Monsieur,” said Penny, mockingly.
The two men stepped a few paces away and began to whisper together. Pete seemed to protest at Al’s proposals.
Penny watched them uneasily, speculating upon their final decision. Whatever it was, she would never be given an opportunity to report to the police until it was too late to apprehend members of the Temple.
“I was stupid not to realize that Gepper might trail me,” she told herself. “If only I had used an ounce of caution, I might have brought about the capture of the entire gang. Not to mention a grand scoop for Dad’s paper.”
Penny slumped lower in her chair. Her own predicament concerned her far less than the knowledge that she had bungled a golden opportunity.
Speculatively, her gaze shifted toward the bell tower room. The door was closed and she believed that it must be locked. There was no sound from the belfry, adding to her conviction that the man imprisoned there was fearful of attracting attention to his plight.
Al Gepper and Pete came toward her. With no explanation, the medium seized her arm and ordered her to walk toward the exit.