once more. She noticed dully that the key was not turned in its lock this time, Hawtree, not daring to do so in the presence of the mistress of the house, and evidently planning to return later.
So another long period of waiting passed. One by one Mehitable's fingers and toes seemed to die, which was more bearable, though, than the intense pain which preceded the numbness. She sat perfectly motionless, for it did no good to struggle.
Then the faint sound of an opening door came to her, and she felt a cold draught of air; but to her surprise there was no sign of light as there had been before. Silence reigned, which also was queer. At first she wondered vaguely if she had imagined that sound of a door opening, that faint click. But as she sat there, she became aware of someone's presence in the room in that indefinable way which utter stillness sometimes conveys. And she turned her head.
In vain, however, for she could not see far behind her—only a portion of the fireplace on one side and the table and screen on the other, while directly in front of her was the wall with its two high windows, now long since curtained by night.
She struggled against her gag and strove to call. No murmur of sound came from her swollen lips. A chill, vague fear took possession of her. Whoever had entered, if any one had, was evidently most unwilling to be seen, and the girl wondered how he had gained admittance since the door from the hall had not been opened. Then she started nervously as an icy hand brushed against her cheeks from behind her chair. But
