Inez, with terror in her eyes, stared at her companion.
“Is it lock?” she whispered.
Mildred pushed again, straining every muscle. Then she bent and examined the wall. It was easy to see, from this side, where the series of three blocks were firmly joined together. Also the butts of three huge iron hinges protruded slightly into the passage. There could be no mistake. The closing of the door had made them prisoners.
[CHAPTER XIV—PRISONERS OF THE WALL]
Mildred silently turned and regarded her companion. Her eyes were not hard and cold now. They were glowing with anxiety and terror.
“Cannot we get out?” demanded Inez.
Mildred shook her head.
“Not the way we came in,” she replied. “I remember now that Cristoval warned me never to close the door behind me; but I forgot to tell you that, so you are not to blame.”
Inez looked down at baby, who had again fallen asleep, snuggled close to her breast. Her fear at this time was not for herself. It was dreadful to think of the danger she had placed the darling baby in—the child she would have died rather than injure.
Mildred saw the look and read its anguish. Her own cheeks blanched for a moment, but there was an inherent quality of courage in this girl that forbade her to despair. Speaking as much to herself as to Inez she said: