“But I tell you I am frightened, Billie. Such wretched things do happen and innocent people often suffer for guilty ones.”
“Nonsense, Mary, you must not lose your nerve in this way. Take the money and go straight to Miss Gray with it now. I will go with you.”
The two girls gathered their things together silently. Mary put the roll of money in her jacket pocket and they made for the door. It was almost dark now and the rows of empty desks down the big room were like kneeling phantoms in the half light.
“Did you hear anything?” whispered Mary as they reached the door.
“I heard a step,” answered Billie in a low voice. “It was probably the janitor.”
With a mutual impulse they clasped hands and a wave of fear swept over them when they found that the door would not open.
“It must have stuck,” whispered Mary. “Try it again.”
But the door was locked fast.
“There is only one way for you to get back the key to the door, young ladies,” said a voice so near to them that they both jumped back as if they had been struck in the face.
The person who had spoken had been standing flat against the wall at the side of the door. He emerged from the shadows, as quietly as a shadow itself, and in the twilight his long, lank figure seemed almost to be floating in space. The small black mask which covered his face and his whole appearance reminded Billie of a gruesome picture she had once seen called “The Black Masque.”