"Whose house is it, then?" asked Gladys.
"I can't imagine," said Nyoda. "It's all a mistake somewhere."
"But that was the Bates's automobile, all right, that we got into," said
Gladys.
"Yes," said Nyoda reflectively; "bright blue with a cane streamer, standing at the corner of ——th Avenue and L—— Street. But was it the right one?" she asked suddenly, putting her hands to her head. "That driver never said a word, just got in and drove off. What on earth are we into?"
Gladys's face suddenly went as white as chalk. "Nyoda!" she gasped, clutching the other girl's arm.
"What is it?" asked Nyoda.
"You read every day in the papers of girls disappearing," said Gladys faintly, "never to be heard of again. Have we—have we—disappeared?"
"I don't know," said Nyoda, with thoughts whirling. She turned away from the window, toward the elevator. Not a sound of any kind had been heard, and yet when she turned around there was the elevator up again with the same woman in it who had brought them up. Instead of opening the door, however, she pressed something and a little slide opened at about the height of her head. Through this she passed a supper tray, which she set on a shelf on the wall at the side of the elevator. Gladys and Nyoda hastened toward her.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked Nyoda. The woman made no answer. "In whose house are we?" demanded Nyoda. Still no reply. "Answer me," said Nyoda sharply. The woman pointed to her ears and shook her head, then pointed to her lips and shook her head. "She's deaf and dumb!" exclaimed Nyoda. The woman pressed a button and the elevator sank from sight.
Nyoda and Gladys faced each other in consternation. The mystery was becoming deeper. Beyond a doubt they were not in Mrs. Bates's house; beyond a doubt they were the victims of some mistake; but how was the mistake to be cleared up if they could not make themselves understood? They looked the room over thoroughly for some clew to the mystery. They found none. There was no door leading from the room except the one opening into the bath. There was no door leading out from the bath, to any other room; neither was there any window. The little room was lighted by electricity. As in the other room, everything here was violet-colored. The tiled walls, the floor, the calcimined ceiling, the light globe, the enameled medicine chest, the outside of the bathtub, and even a little three-legged stool, were all the same shade. The wonder of the girls increased momentarily.