“I’m not sure there was one. I think my stepfather and Antón did most of the work themselves.”
“Let’s talk to Antón,” suggested Penny. “Perhaps he can shed light on the mystery of those whispering, drum-pounding walls!”
Antón, however, was nowhere to be found. After searching for him in the house and on the grounds, the girls abandoned the search.
By this time it was growing late, so Penny regretfully bade her friend goodbye, and returned home.
Try as she would, she could not forget the strange events of the afternoon, nor Mrs. Rhett’s obsession that she would have a long and fatal illness.
“Even now that woman is mentally ill,” she thought. “I do hope Lorinda calls in a doctor without delay.”
Although removed from the depressing mansion atmosphere, Penny found it impossible to forget the effigy and the conviction Lorinda had of its powers.
“Dad,” she said abruptly that night when dinner was over. “Do you believe in black magic?”
“I don’t believe in any kind of magic, black, red, pink or green,” he answered absently. “What’s on your mind now?”
Penny told him of her adventure at the Rhett estate. She confidently expected her father to make light of the entire affair, but to her surprise he listened with flattering attention and asked many questions.