"I don't know. If they haven't it's good luck, not good management. Look out—there ought to be a step here—yes, there is, walk carefully. No sprained ankles to-night."
Just how they reached their rooms Blue Bonnet never quite knew. She trusted Annabel and followed meekly as a newly born lamb should. When they parted at Blue Bonnet's door Annabel gave Blue Bonnet a swift hug.
"You're game clear through," she said. "I think everything is all right. I can't hear a sound anywhere."
Somewhere down the length of the hall a clock struck. Annabel and Blue Bonnet both counted: one—two—three!
"Three o'clock and all is well!" Annabel said. "Good night. Don't worry."
It was at breakfast the next morning that Madam de Cartier remarked to one of the girls at the French table:
"I fancied I heard a scream last night—or this morning, rather. It sounded down Commonwealth Avenue. A piercing scream, as though some one were in great distress. Did any one else hear it?"
"Yes, Madam de Cartier," Sue Hemphill said, equal to the occasion. "It was dreadful, wasn't it? As if some one were horribly frightened. It was about three o'clock, I think. I was awake and heard the clock striking on the lower corridor. What could it have been?"
"I really don't know, Miss Hemphill, though I have a theory. I may be quite wrong, however. It seems strange, doesn't it? This street is so eminently respectable and quiet."