And at the same moment a voice whispered:
"Sh-sh!"
Very gradually the door was opened a little farther. A hand caught the sleeve of his coat. It was quite dark outside the door—as dark as in the front room.
"Sh-sh!" was whispered again in his ear, as he felt himself drawn through the narrow aperture.
He made no attempt to resist, for he knew, he felt, that the hand was Carrie's, and that this was rescue.
When he had passed into the second room, Max was stopped by a warning pressure of the hand upon his arm, and then he felt the touch of Carrie's lips upon his ear, so close did she come before she uttered these words:
"Don't make a sound. Come slowly, very quietly, very carefully. You're all right."
He heard her close the door through which he had just come, and then he let her lead him, in silence and in the darkness, until they reached another door. This she opened with the same caution, and Max, passing through with her, found himself, as he knew by the little step down onto the brick floor, in the outhouse.
"Who's that?" said a man's voice, startling Max, and confirming in an instant the suspicions he had had that the outrage to which he had been subjected was the work of a gang.
"It's me—Carrie," said the girl.