Miss Cornelia rattled the knob of a high closet by the other wall.
"This one is locked--and the key's gone," she announced. A new
flicker of interest grew in the eyes of the Unknown. Lizzie glanced
away from him, terrified.
"If there's anything locked up in that closet," she whimpered, "you'd
better let it stay! There's enough running loose in this house as
it is!"
Unfortunately for her, her whimper drew Miss Cornelia's attention
upon her.
"Lizzie, did you ever take that key?" the latter queried sternly.
"No'm," said Lizzie, too scared to dissimulate if she had wished.
She wagged her head violently a dozen times, like a china figure
on a mantelpiece.
Miss Cornelia pondered.
"It may be locked from the inside; I'll soon find out." She took
a wire hairpin from her hair and pushed it through the keyhole.
But there was no key on the other side; the hairpin went through
without obstruction. Repeated efforts to jerk the door open failed.
And finally Miss Cornelia bethought herself of a key from the other
closet doors.
Dale and Lizzie on one side--Bailey on the other--collected the
keys of the other closets from their locks while Miss Cornelia
stared at the one whose doors were closed as if she would force
its secret from it with her eyes. The Unknown had been so quiet
during the last few minutes, that, unconsciously, the others had
ceased to pay much attention to him, except the casual attention
one devotes to a piece of furniture.
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