The girls shot a quick glance at the floor. Then they gazed guiltily at one another. Sure enough! The tell-tale ring stood upright, ready for use. No one had thought to conceal it.
"Is there a wounded soldier down there?" asked Mr. Black, jokingly.
"No!" shouted all four with suspicious haste.
The deep silence that followed was suddenly punctuated by a muffled sneeze from Rosa Marie. Undoubtedly, some of the pepper dislodged from the crack in the floor had sifted down to the prisoner.
The faces of the four girls flushed guiltily. Mr. Black looked wonderingly at the little group. It was plain that something was wrong. Jean, who had always met her friend's glance with level, truthful eyes, was now looking most sheepishly at her own toes. Bettie, hitherto always ready to tell the whole truth, was now fiddling evasively with the corner of her apron. Marjory's fair skin was crimson; her usually frank blue eyes were intent on something under the kitchen table.
"Is there some sort of an animal in that cellar?" demanded Mr. Black.
Rosa Marie chose this moment to give another large sneeze.
"Is it something you're afraid of?" demanded Mr. Black.
"'Fraid of losing," mumbled Mabel, shamefacedly. Poor Mabel realized only too well that she, with her knitting and her too-perfect playing of the part, had given the secret away; and she felt all the bitterness of failure.
Seizing the back of Mabel's chair, Mr. Black drew it swiftly off the trap door. In another moment, he had the door open.