“Stop it!” cried Mrs. Hawthorne. “Don’t dare touch my things!”
Father Benedict paid her not the slightest heed. Rapidly he emptied boxes and containers and tossed clothing in a heap on the floor.
With a supreme effort, Mrs. Hawthorne pulled herself from the bed. Staggering across the floor, she seized the man’s arm.
Father Benedict pushed her backwards onto the bed.
“You are a cruel, heartless man!” Mrs. Hawthorne sobbed. The bed shook convulsively beneath her weight as she lay where Father Benedict had pushed her.
Penny was sorely tempted to go to the woman’s assistance, but reason told her it would be sheer folly to betray her presence. Everything depended upon getting quickly and safely out of the monastery. If she failed, Father Benedict undoubtedly would escape, leaving them all locked in the building.
The monk now had finished searching the dresser and turned his attention to a suitcase. With professional skill and thoroughness, he ripped open the lining. Likewise, he explored every garment hem and pocket.
“To think that I ever trusted you!” Mrs. Hawthorne cried bitterly. “Oh, I see it all now! From the very first, you were after the sapphire!”
“And I have it too!” cried the man in triumph.
His sensitive, exploring fingers had come upon a small, hard object sewed into the hem of one of Mrs. Hawthorne’s frocks.