| Chapter XXII | In the Store Cellar |
IT was impossible that Mirabelle Leicester could fail to realize the serious danger in which she stood. Why she had incurred the enmity of Oberzohn, for what purpose this man was anxious to keep her under his eye, she could not even guess. It was a relief to wake up in the early morning, as she did, and find Joan sleeping in the same room; for though she had many reasons for mistrusting her, there was something about this doll-faced girl that made an appeal to her.
Joan was lying on the bed fully dressed, and at the sound of the creaking bed she turned and got up, fastening her skirt.
“Well, how do you like your new home?” she asked, with an attempt at joviality, which she was far from feeling, in spite of Monty’s assurances.
“I’ve seen better,” said Mirabelle coolly.
“I’ll bet you have!” Joan stretched and yawned; then, opening one of the cupboards, took a shovelful of coal and threw it into the furnace, clanging the iron door. “That’s my job,” she said humorously, “to keep you warm.”
“How long am I going to be kept here?”
“Five days,” was the surprising answer.
“Why five?” asked Mirabelle curiously.
“I don’t know. Maybe they’ll tell you,” said Joan.