Never for a moment did Laura Belding believe that the thing was a trick, or joke. It could not be part of the M. O. R. initiation. Mary O’Rourke and Celia Prime and the other seniors governing the secret society were not the girls to make up any such plan as this with which to frighten new members of the order. Nor would the school authorities allow such action by the M. O. R.’s.
Nevertheless, Laura knew that something strange had happened to her. There had been no person in this big room when she and her three friends had entered to drive the nails. Yet, when the fright occurred and she had attempted to run, she was hauled back by the skirt.
Something seemed to have grabbed her. Was it a hand—the same hand that had lashed her wrists and gagged her with this veil?
Yet, any person beside the four girls would have betrayed his presence—for the room had never been wholly dark—only in the far corners. And no arm would be long enough to reach out of those shadows and seize the bottom of Laura’s skirt and pull her to the floor again when she started to run.
The girl was still frightened—desperately frightened, indeed. But the possibility of anything supernatural having happened to her had long since departed from her mind. Even the flickering reflection of the ghost-light did not trouble her.
No ghost could have bound her hands and gagged her.
The voices of the girls had died away into the distance ere this. With a groan of pain because of her ankle, Laura rolled over and tried again to rise. Something jerked her back!
She threw herself over and rolled away from the point of contact. There was a tearing sound—and she was free!
She scrambled to her feet. Then she saw what manner of “ghostly hand” had held her. In stooping to drive the first nail into the floor, she had driven it through the hem of her skirt—that was what had jerked her to the floor when she tried to run with her comrades.
“Well! I am silly!” mumbled the girl.