“Look!” she murmured. “The light will show around the cracks and the sill. We can’t shut it off. Oh, what’ll we do? If he comes in here he’ll be sure to see us. We were better off outside. Then we could run and vanish in the fog.”
“He may not come in here,” spoke Sim hopefully.
“Oh, but he’s coming—or someone is—right this way!” gasped Terry.
They were in real panic now—fluttering about seeking concealment. Once Arden and Terry bumped together in their mad race around the little room, but they hadn’t a giggle among them.
“Here—in here!” Sim suddenly hissed from a distant corner. “I’ve found some kind of a big packing box with a hinged cover like a trapdoor. We can hide in that.”
“Can we all get in?” asked Terry. “I don’t want to be left standing outside like this.”
“I think we can make it,” Sim answered. “We must try, anyhow. Here, Arden——” She held out her hand, and Arden grasped it. “Now, Terry! I’ll guide you. It’s very dark in this corner, but I can make out the box. I’ll climb in first and you two follow.”
Terry and Arden half heard, half saw Sim partly climb and partly fall over the side of a great box in one corner of the dim room.
“Come on, Arden,” Sim urged. “It’s easy.”
Arden put one leg over the side and raised herself up by her hands as if climbing a fence. As she did so there was a ripping, tearing sound.