Penny closed the peephole and stole out of the dark closet. The corridor was deserted.
Retracing her way to the cloister, the girl paused beside a wall niche a moment as she considered the safest way to attempt an escape.
“I’ll try the kitchen window,” she decided. “It worked well enough coming in.”
On tiptoe she approached the kitchen, only to halt as she heard voices. Father Benedict was berating Old Julia again.
“There were eleven bowls of soup served!” she heard him insist. “Mrs. Hawthorne and her daughter were not in the dining room. So that makes one extra person unaccounted for. Julia, someone entered this house tonight to spy, and you know who the person is!”
“No! No! I dunno nothin’,” the servant moaned. “Even if you strike me and break my bones I can’t tell you no different!”
“We’ll see about that,” said the monk harshly. “After a few hours below, perhaps you’ll be willing to talk!”
Julia uttered a squeal of terror. “Don’t take me down into that awful place where the tombs are!” she pleaded. “Please!”
“Then tell me who entered this house tonight.”
“I’ll tell, if you quit twisting my arm,” Julia sobbed. “Only I didn’t want to get her into trouble. She didn’t mean no harm.”