"Unhook me!" said Capitola, tilting up the glass lest the child should see what horrors were reflected there.
The little maid began to obey and Capitola tried to think of some plan to escape their imminent danger. To obey the natural impulse—to fly from the room would be instantly fatal—they would be followed and murdered in the hall before they could possibly give the alarm! And to whom could she give the alarm when there was not another creature in the house except Mrs. Condiment?
While she was turning these things over in her mind it occurred to her that "man's extremity is God's opportunity." Sending up a silent prayer to heaven for help at need, she suddenly thought of a plan—it was full of difficulty, uncertainty and peril, affording not one chance in fifty of success, yet the only possible plan of escape! It was to find some plausible pretext for leaving the room without exciting suspicion, which would be fatal. Controlling her tremors, and speaking cheerfully, she asked:
"Patty, do you know whether there were any of those nice quince tarts left from dinner?"
"Lor', yes, miss, a heap on 'em! Ole Mis' put 'em away in her cubberd."
"Was there any baked custard left?"
"Lor', yes Miss Caterpillar; dere was nobody but we-dens three, and think I could eat up all as was left?"
"I don't know but you might! Well, is there any pear sauce?"
"Yes, miss, a big bowl full."
"Well, I wish you'd go down and bring me up a tart, a cup of custard and a spoonful of pear sauce. Sitting up so late makes me as hungry as a wolf! Come, Patty, go along!"