I call to her: "Come to the door. Can't you come to the door and open it?" I pointed to the basement gate. "Open it! Can you hear me?"
"Yes—I can hear you, and you speak my language. But you—you will not hurt me? Where am I? This—this was my house a moment ago. I was living here."
Demented! It flashed to me. An insane girl, locked in this empty house. I gripped Larry; said to him: "Take it easy; there's something queer about this. We can't smash windows. Let's—"
"You open the door," he called to the girl.
"I cannot."
"Why? Is it locked on the inside?"
"I don't know. Because—oh, hurry! If he—if it comes again—!"
e could see her turn to look behind her.