"Let go, then," she said.
Gerald did, and the moment he had done so he found it impossible to believe that he really had been holding invisible hands.
"You're just pretending not to see me," said the Princess anxiously, "aren't you? Do say you are. You've had your joke with me. Don't keep it up. I don't like it."
"On our sacred word of honour," said Gerald, "you're still invisible."
There was a silence. Then, "Come," said the Princess. "I'll let you out, and you can go. I'm tired of playing with you."
They followed her voice to the door, and through it, and along the little passage into the hall. No one said anything. Every one felt very uncomfortable.
"Let's get out of this," whispered Jimmy as they got to the end of the hall.
But the voice of the Princess said: "Come out this way; it's quicker. I think you're perfectly hateful. I'm sorry I ever played with you. Mother always told me not to play with strange children."
A door abruptly opened, though no hand was seen to touch it. "Come through, can't you!" said the voice of the Princess.
It was a little ante-room, with long, narrow mirrors between its long, narrow windows.
"Good-bye, said Gerald. "Thanks for giving us such a jolly time. Let's part friends," he added, holding out his hand.
An unseen hand was slowly put in his, which closed on it, vice-like.
