“That up-attic person, I’m sure,” said Wyn. “Better get the key, Nora. We can’t let them cry to death while we are all here, listening in.”
“I think I heard crying,” said Miss Beckwith. “Perhaps you had better open the door, Nora.”
From under the fern dish Nora procured the key.
Miss Beckwith took it, and presently the door was open. The hall was flooded with light, but everyone instinctively stepped back.
There was no sound.
“Where’s Cap?” asked Nora. “We left him here.”
“There is really nothing to fear,” said Miss Beckwith. “Here we are, a half dozen of us. I think we had better go inside. Maybe poor old Cap is locked in somewhere and held captive.”
“Oh, that’s so,” replied Nora. “He has a habit of getting in closets and he might have sprung the door shut. Sometimes he moans——”
That was enough to excite practical sympathy, and everyone promptly stepped inside. Once within, it did not seem so fearful. Pell prowled around and Wyn made foolish noises; but Nora hung back.
After satisfying themselves there was nothing wrong on the first floor they decided to investigate the second.