“I’ve got it! What did uncle say I was to do with it? Push it against the spot of light—and then? I’ve got it into the keyhole; can’t you remember what uncle said I was to do with it then? It turns round and round.”
“Pollie!—they’re coming!”
They were. There was the sound of advancing footsteps. Approaching forms loomed dimly through the darkness. That same instant Pollie caught the trick of it; the door opened.
“Inside!” she gasped.
I was inside, moving faster than I had ever done in my life before. And Pollie was after me. The door shut behind us, seemingly of its own accord, with a kind of groan.
“That was a near thing!”
It could hardly have been nearer. Whoever was upon our heels had almost effected a simultaneous entrance with ourselves.
“He made a grab at my skirt; I felt his hand!”
But the door had closed so quickly that whoever was there had had no time to make an attempt to keep it open. It was pitch dark within, darker almost than it had been without. Pollie pressed close to my side. The fingers of one of her hands interlaced themselves with mine; she gripped me tighter than she perhaps thought. Her lips were near my ear; she spoke as if she were short of breath.
“There’s a good spring upon that door; it moved a bit too fast for them; it shuts like a rat-trap. Listen!”