“Trapped you! What do you mean?”
“Just that!” and Elsie told how the chair-pusher had led her to the house, and urged her up in the elevator and into the room, and then had locked her in.
“Why, the door isn’t locked,” Whiting exclaimed, “I walked right in!”
“How did you know I was in here?”
“Asked the elevator girl,—she told me.”
“Well, the door was locked on this side,—must be a spring catch.”
“It must be, then,”—and Whiting went to examine it. “Yes, it is. Thank Heaven I could open it from outside. Well, dearest, we’ll go home, shall we?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I want to know what it all means.”
“Didn’t you know your chair man?”
“No; we pick up different ones every time,—wherever we happen to be. He wasn’t a real one, of course. He must have been placed there, so I’d engage him, by those villains—”