CHAPTER XXVII
ARIADNE’S CLUE
The manner in which those liberated girls skipped down to the laundry was certainly not snail-like. They had nearly reached it when Ruth’s feet became entangled in a piece of string, and, stooping down to loosen it, she discovered a slip of paper fastened to the end, and a large pin which had evidently stuck it fast to the door-casing. No doubt some of the girls had brushed against it in their hurry-scurry to reach the laundry, and, but for the ill wind which blew five of them into the housemaid’s closet, this significant scrap of paper would never have been discovered. The candle they carried was brought to bear upon it, and they read the following words:
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In ancient days, so the stories say,
One Theseus found a remarkable way
Of reaching a point he wished to gain,
And down to posterity came his fame. So, perhaps, posterity may also do well To follow a “clue,” but never to tell Just what they found at the further end, Lest a rule should break instead of bend. |
“What can it mean? Where does it lead to?” were the questions eagerly whispered.
“Come on, and let’s find out,” was Ruth’s practical remark, and she began to wind up the string. There seemed no end to it, and it led them through the corridor, out of that into the kitchen, then out to a small store-room built beneath the kitchen porch. Here the end was tied to a very suggestive-looking tub.
Had Diogenes succeeded in discovering an honest man he could not have felt greater satisfaction than these girls felt at the sight of that modest little oval tub, with its sawdust covering; and the way in which it was pounced upon, and borne in triumph to the laundry, brings my story of that night’s revels to a climax, and no more need be told.
When the twelve o’clock train whistled it was the signal for the revels to end, and, ere the carriages which were to meet the theatre-goers could bring them up the hill, Sunny Bank was as quiet and peaceful as though all its inmates had been dreaming for hours.