“Inside—quickly! Perhaps he won’t notice us!” whispered Arden.
“Perhaps he will, though, and we mustn’t take a chance!” objected Terry. “Don’t forget, we’re over here without permission.”
Forward stalked the tall black figure, splitting the fog into damp, swirling masses of mist as he trudged along.
“Come on, girls!” hissed Sim. “He’s almost here! We can hide in the baggage room at the end of the station.”
Quickly the girls scurried around the corner of the building toward the baggage room. Fortunately the door was open. Inside, showing beneath a small incandescent lamp, hung high, festooned with cobwebs and dust, were several trunks, valises, suitcases, and boxes. Some of the pieces of baggage and express seemed to have been forgotten, uncalled for or lost a long time. Dust was thick on them.
“It isn’t very bright,” whispered Terry. Which was true. The high little light only made the gloomy shadows and corners more gloomy. “I wonder if there are rats here?” Terry breathed in alarm.
“Oh!” gasped Arden. “Why do you have to think of things like that? Stop it!”
“Hush!” cautioned Sim. “I hear footsteps coming this way.”
“Shut the door!” begged Terry.
Arden pushed it so that it was almost tight in the frame. There it stuck. It would close no farther.