They drew the bolt, and pushed the door open cautiously. All was silent and dark within, for the candle had burned down to the socket, and then gone out.
They entered and called Brownie by name.
There was no reply, and with a nameless fear in her heart, Isabel rushed back into her own room, lighted another candle, and returned to explore the cell.
One glance served to show that it was empty!
But with the vain hope that all guilty people have they began turning over the mattress and bedclothes, as if they expected to find her concealed underneath them.
“Where can she be?” gasped Isabel, white as the wrapper which she wore, and shaking as with the ague.
Mrs. Coolidge shook her head, and looked up at the small grated window above them.
She mounted upon the chair, and seizing one of the heavy bars, shook it.
It did not so much as move, and even had it been possible to remove it, their captive could not possibly have reached the window to escape, it was set so high in the wall.
“Isabel, I firmly believe that girl is a witch, for none but a spirit could have escaped from this dungeon!”