At last Brother Krosky closed the front door behind the last student, and accompanied by four ponderous gentlemen and two equally ponderous women, retired to the back room.
Joyce fairly held her breath as they entered. There was, however, little need for that. Brother Krosky produced a dark bottle which decidedly did not contain weak tea. There was a clinking of glasses, and after that a babble of voices.
“That black bottle loosed their tongues,” the girl thought with an inward groan. “Now it will be another hour before they settle down to business. By that time I’ll be so like a mummy that I shan’t be able to move.”
Move? A thought struck her squarely. How was she to get out of this place, anyway? How did she know the brothers wouldn’t sleep in this very room?
Had there been some little black imp about he would doubtless have whispered in her ear:
“You’d be surprised!”
There was no imp about. But a creature much more real was. Suddenly she felt something touch her ankle. With great difficulty she held perfectly still and did not utter a sound.
“What was that?” She shuddered.
Her nerves steadied again. “Old imagination at work again,” she told herself. “Too much tea.”
To get her mind away from unpleasant speculations, she fixed her thoughts on her surroundings. Before her, easily within reach, were two pairs of fat ankles. The women of the party had chosen the davenport as their seat.