“I have had a cot put in the attic with everything that you will need. It will be safer. Whatever you may hear, do not come downstairs until morning. Will you remember?”
“Yes.”
“Come in, Sofia. Help this lady upstairs and give her the key.”
As Betty left the kitchen, she turned and saw her strange admirer standing erect and still, in his aviator’s costume, looking after her with an expression almost stern. She stopped a moment. “Thank you, Captain Holley, more than I can tell, for your protection.” He did not reply, but raised his hand in salute.
It was a tiresome climb to the attic for one in Betty’s lame condition, but at last the woman opened a door at the head of the stairs and ushered her into a dusty, close place, pointing toward a clean cot in a space which had been hastily cleared from rubbish. An old wash-stand had been moved up near the cot and contained water-pitcher and towels, which Betty was very glad to see. Handing Betty the key, the woman went downstairs, and Betty turned the key in the lock with great satisfaction, feeling almost safe, if she was in a strange garret, as she said afterward. She had known the time when she was afraid of attics at night, but this was so safe by comparison that she did not think of being frightened. When she had bathed her face and carefully combed as much of her hair as was not matted over the wound, she felt more like the old Betty. Cold compresses felt good to the sore spot and loosened the hair over it. “I am whole up to date,” she thought, “and perhaps I can persuade his highness to let me go in the morning. Why, this is an electric light! I don’t know any place in the country around here that has it but White Wings. Of course it is White Wings. Where else could a hydroplane come from? If I hadn’t been so stupid, I would have recognized it.” A cord dangled from the ceiling with a dingy little bulb swinging at its end, and Betty carefully located it relative to the bed before she turned off the light and crawled into a slightly lumpy but very welcome cot. The coarse gown provided was clean, and the little pillow soft. Air came from somewhere, though she had seen no windows. The atmosphere of the place would soon be improved, she concluded.
The tea had made her less sleepy. For some time after she had thanked Providence for her safety, she lay awake, wondering what Greycliff folks were doing, what would come of this adventure, and how she was going to get back. “I need a doughty knight to come and rescue the princess in the tower!” Betty giggled at the thought and grew drowsy, her head aching less, until finally she dropped into a slumber perhaps less disturbed than that of her suite-mates, who were still dressed and curled up on the outside of their beds. Miss Randolph was sleeping scarcely at all, and there were men searching the woods and shore for her all night. Although she knew that Captain Holley was concerned in this dreadful work as a spy, she felt that he had a fancy for her and that she was comparatively safe in any refuge of his choosing. The last sounds that Betty heard were of people hurrying about, an occasional door closing noisily. The ever-shifting moonlight crept into a little round window behind some heavy furniture and threw long shadows from the dusky objects in the attic over the lonely little figure in the old cot.
CHAPTER X
BETTY FINDS HER CAMERA
In the morning, Betty wakened with the feeling that she was too stiff to move. She had taken cold from the exposure and ached all over. Her head seemed “two sizes too large,” as she thought, and she lifted it cautiously from the pillow to look around. Not having her watch, she did not have any idea what time it might be. Everything was still about the house, but from the outside she heard bird songs, the chickens, and the farm animals. “It’s White Wings all right,” said Betty, as she decided to dress. She turned on the light again, though there was sunlight, if dim, and she could see at one end of the room a window covered with a dark curtain. She did not care to traverse the dusty floor till she was dressed, but when that was at last accomplished, she peered around in such parts of the place as she could go without fear of bumping a head already too sore, and found the open, round window behind an old highboy and a tall bookcase. As she peeped out of the window, she could see the little ice house and the shed which had been built for the hydroplane. “Probably they kept the ‘night hawk’ there too,” she thought.
Retracing her steps, she noticed a familiar object, among a pile of things on a large box near her cot. Could it be? Yes, there was the Red Cross seal which one of the girls had stuck in one corner. She reached over, threw aside a pile of old clothing and drew out her camera. It was covered with dust, but seemed to be unharmed. She looked at once to see if the film were there, the film with the pictures of the birds, the scenes and the people of White Wings,—but it had been taken out.
“H’m,” said Betty to herself, “that was why my camera disappeared. That man was into this work and did not want any pictures of himself thrown around.” Betty shivered, looked around the attic, and was seized with a desire to get out of it as soon as possible. Gathering up the few articles which she had not yet put on, she hurried to the door, key in hand. The light was dim, and as she fumbled with the key in the lock, she saw something on the floor, an edge of something white. When she opened the door, this proved to be folded paper, which she picked up. She listened a moment. Not a sound inside the house as yet. Betty ran down the stairs, opened another door, and found herself on the second floor, in a hall from which bedroom doors opened, bedrooms all upset from hurried packing. She stopped and listened again, then ran down to the first floor and unlocked and opened the front door. Ah, freedom felt so good! But she went into the house again and went through the first floor, determined to find out if she really were alone. There was no one in the house. Dishes unwashed and food left standing were on the kitchen table.