Penny had heard the story several times but did not ruin the photographer’s pleasure by saying so.
“DeWitt didn’t do a doggone thing!” Salt went on. “He just told everyone in the office. I cooled my heels in that place until nine o’clock at night! A fire broke out across town then, and DeWitt needed another photographer, so finally he got me out!”
“Mr. DeWitt has a queer sense of humor,” Penny acknowledged. “But he is a good editor.”
“Best there is,” Salt agreed loyally. “But wow! He’s going to tear me apart limb from limb when I come in with nothing but a picture of a thatched roof cottage!”
Penny was tempted to tell the photographer of Lorinda’s strange action in warning her not to approach the building. However, she felt sure he would make light of the entire matter, so she remained silent.
“Is that the place?” Glimpsing the thatched roof cottage through the trees, Salt paused to stare at it. “Looks like a jungle hut.”
“A reproduction of one, I imagine,” Penny said, “but it might be the genuine product. Mr. Rhett, I’ve been told, was a world traveler and brought home many relics and souvenirs of jungle and cult life.”
They approached closer and Salt stopped again, this time to take two shots.
“What’s inside?” he asked. “Let’s take a look.”
Penny was curious to see the interior of the cottage despite Lorinda’s warning. However, as she trotted along at Salt’s heels, she experienced a strange, uneasy feeling, as if she were intruding upon forbidden ground.