“Not if you understand tribal customs. From all my stepfather told me of his experiences, I am sure members of the Zudi cult would stop at nothing in trying to recover their ceremonial drum.”
Penny inquired if Mr. Rhett ever had received threats against his life.
“Oh, dozens of them, but that was years ago. Since he married Mother, I’ve not heard of any. But then, my stepfather was self-contained and rather strange in many ways. If he had received threats, he might not have told her.”
Becoming more interested in the story minute by minute, Penny longed to ask if Mr. and Mrs. Rhett ever had had serious disagreements. However, the question was a difficult one, and she knew of no way to phrase it without risking offense to Lorinda.
“I’d never admit it to Celeste,” the Rhett girl went on, carefully drawing heavy draperies across the arched doorway of the library and closing another door which opened toward the stairs. “But seeing that match and string ouange gave me an unpleasant moment. I’m afraid my stepfather’s enemies may have picked up his trail. In that case—well, the charm really could become an omen of evil.”
“You’re becoming morbid,” laughed Penny. “What is there to fear in two burnt matches tied with a string?”
“Nothing perhaps,” replied Lorinda, though without firm conviction. “Let’s hope the Zudi drum is still here. I wish it had never been brought into the house.”
A large painting of a Dutch windmill hung low on the north library wall. To Penny’s surprise, Lorinda gave one of its long gold cords a jerk. The picture swung back to disclose a cleverly hidden safe.
“Now I hope I haven’t forgotten the combination,” Lorinda murmured.
Thinking a moment, she whirled the dials with an expert touch. The safe failed to open. With an exclamation of annoyance, she tried again. This time there was a sharp little click and as she turned the handle, the circular door swung back.