“That would be an impossible feat,” Peyton replied, “for, in common with all Spanish houses, these windows are barred.”
As he spoke the lad turned and walked toward the fireplace. He looked into its cavernous opening and carefully examined the walls and chimney. Turning back into the room, Peyton met Virginia and they exchanged discouraged glances. “I simply cannot understand it,” the boy said in a low tone.
Before Virginia could reply, a startled cry rang out. They both whirled, expecting to see Betsy, but instead it was Babs who was gazing at one of the barred windows as though she had seen the ghost about which she had been talking.
Peyton leaped to her side. “Barbara,” he said, “why are you staring at the window in that wild way? I can see nothing.”
“No, you can’t now,” the girl replied. “It is gone—the face—”
“I believe that mischievous Betsy Clossen is outside peering in at us and laughing to think how she is fooling us all,” Virginia said in almost a natural tone. “I know her of old. She loves to tease.”
But Babs shook her head as she continued to gaze at the barred window.
“It wasn’t Betsy,” she whispered. “It was a dark face. I think Trujillo.”
“Girls, you come back to the kitchen,” Peyton said, “and bar the door after me. I am going to see if Betsy Clossen is really hiding outside. If she is the kind of a girl who would cause you all this concern just to play a prank, I think you would better send her back East when she is found.”
“I, too, thought at first that she was hiding to tease,” Margaret said, “but Betsy really has good common-sense and she would not continue to frighten us in this way. Now, I am sure that something has happened to her.”