“I don’t know myself,” he answered promptly. “At the meetings, the Master always wore a robe and a black hood. None of the members ever were permitted to see his face.”
“You have no idea who the man may be?”
Clem Davis shook his head as he bit into another sandwich. “I doubt there are more than one or two members of the order who know his identity. Hank Holloway might, or maybe Charley Phelps.”
“Is Phelps a member?” Penny asked quickly.
“One of the chief ones. Most of the meetings are held at his place.”
“You don’t mean at the Hubell Tower?”
Penny’s pulse had stepped up to a faster pace, for the information was of the greatest value. Furthermore, it thrilled her that her own theory regarding Charley Phelps was receiving support.
“Sure, the Hoods meet at the Tower about once a month,” Clem Davis disclosed. “Usually they get together on the thirteenth, but sometimes they have extra sessions. When special meetings are held, a green light burns on the tower, or the clock strikes thirteen times just at midnight.”
“I thought so!” Penny exclaimed, highly elated. “Tell me, why did you decide to break your connection with the Hoods?”
“I joined the organization before I knew what I was letting myself in for. When they made plans to burn the Preston barn, I wanted to quit. The Hoods threatened me, and to get even, planted evidence that made it look as if I had set the fire.”