“Those eyes! I saw them. Those evil eyes. Back of the mountain. They glared at me.”
“Eyes?”
“The dark-faced man. He—he frightens me! The way out! We must find it!”
Roused by her companion’s fears, Rosemary led the way on tiptoe down the stairs. Still in silence they crossed the broad emptiness of the castle, came to a rear door, tried it, felt it yield to their touch, and passed through, only to hear the intruder come racing down the stairs.
“He—he did not see us!” Rosemary panted. “For now we are safe. This—come this way!”
She crowded her way between a stairway lying upon its side and a property porch. Jeanne, whose heart was beating a tattoo against her ribs, followed in silence.
“What a brave knight I am!” she told herself, and smiled in spite of her deathly fears.
“The way out,” Rosemary whispered over her shoulder. “If I only can find that!”
A sound, from somewhere behind, startled them into renewed effort.
Passing through a low forest of property trees, they crossed a narrow bare space to find themselves confronted by a more formidable forest of chairs and tables. Chairs of all sorts, with feet on the floor or high in air, blocked their way.