“I’m partially responsible,” Madge charged herself. “It’s up to me to get her out of this.”
She waited a few minutes upon the porch until she was convinced that Enid was not to be released. Then, as her fears gained the upper hand, she made a tour of the cottage, hoping to find some aperture which would permit her to see what was going on inside.
The windows were all above her head save for the one opening off the porch and the curtains had been carefully drawn. However, at the rear of the house, she found a door which seemed to lead down a flight of stairs to the cellar. She tried the door and found it unlocked.
Without an instant’s thought for her own safety, she cautiously raised up the door. It creaked alarmingly on its rusty hinges. After waiting a brief space to make sure that the sound had not called attention to her presence, she quietly slipped inside and lowered the door after her.
It was pitch dark within and the cellar gave off an unpleasant, damp, musty odor. Madge crept down the stairs one at a time taking care not to make the slightest sound. At the bottom she found a second door which opened readily at a turn of the handle.
A heap of rubbish had been left just inside and in groping about, Madge stumbled over it.
“Now I’ve done it!” she told herself.
The flooring above was thin and the sound of masculine voices reached her ears distinctly.
“What was that?” she heard some one ask. “Thought that sound came from the basement.”
Madge barely had time to flatten herself against the wall before an inside door directly above her opened. The beam of a lantern was flashed about the room. It missed her by a scant two feet.