At last the big door swung outward to reveal Father Benedict. His eyes narrowed with displeasure as he saw her.
“Well?” he inquired. Penny observed that he was a little breathless from having hastened.
“I don’t suppose you expected to see me here again so soon!” she began with forced gaiety. “Do you mind if I witness the cult ceremony tonight?”
“We discussed that this afternoon. I am very sorry—” Father Benedict began to close the door.
“I want to write a little story about it for the newspaper,” Penny went on, talking fast. “If you’ll only—”
The door closed in her face. Distinctly she heard a key grate in the lock.
“Well, how do you like that?” Penny muttered angrily. “Who does he think he is, anyhow?”
She started away, only to pause and gaze thoughtfully back at the darkened windows. To return to the newspaper office without a story would be humiliating. A good reporter never failed.
“There must be some way to see that ceremony!” she reasoned. “Perhaps I can slip in through a rear door.”
Penny circled the building, taking care to avoid snow patches where revealing footprints would be left behind. She crossed through the old church-yard with its toppled, weather-stained stones, passing close along the church wall.