A light tap came at the door.
"If it's a fried egg," called Winnifred softly, "I do not need it. I ate yesterday."
"No," said the voice of the Landlady. "You are wanted below."
"I!" exclaimed Winnifred, "below!"
"You," said the Landlady, "below. A party of gentlemen have called for you."
"Gentlemen," exclaimed Winnifred, putting her hand to her brow in perplexity, "for me! at this late hour! Here! This evening! In this house?"
"Yes," repeated the Landlady, "six gentlemen. They arrived in a closed coach. They are all closely masked and heavily armed. They beg you will descend at once."
"Just Heaven!" cried the Unhappy Girl. "Is it possible that they mean to abduct me?"
"They do," said the Landlady. "They said so!"
"Alas!" cried Winnifred, "I am powerless. Tell them"—she hesitated—"tell them I will be down immediately. Let them not come up. Keep them below on any pretext. Show them an album. Let them look at the goldfish. Anything, but not here! I shall be ready in a moment."