"There may be a secret spring," faltered Cicely, feeling in every direction to find some bolt or knob, but all in vain. Then the horrible truth broke upon them. They were locked up as securely as the legacy!
"What are we to do?"
Lindsay's pink cheeks were white with alarm.
"Let us call. Perhaps the girls are hunting for us still in the passage, and they may hear."
Both shouted until they were hoarse, yet there was no reply. This was indeed hide-and-seek with a vengeance. Their game had turned out more than they had bargained for.
"I'll bang on the ceiling. It may sound louder than calling," said Lindsay. "The girls must have given us up, and gone downstairs, for nobody seems to hear," she continued, after belabouring the trapdoor for several minutes.
"Perhaps they're at tea," suggested Cicely.
They examined the little window in the corner, but the fastenings were so rusty from long disuse that, tug as they would, they could not open it. They wiped away the dust and cobwebs from it, and peeped out.
"If it overlooks the garden, we could smash the glass and wave a handkerchief, at any rate," proposed Lindsay. "Scott would be almost sure to notice it, even if nobody else were out in the rain."
Alas! the window appeared to be securely hidden away among the gables, and absolutely out of sight from below.