The basement door had a locked iron gate. I rattled it. "No way of getting in," I said, then stopped short with surprise. "What the devil--" I joined Larry by the window. The girl was only a few inches from us. She had a pale, frightened face; wide, terrified eyes. Even with that first glimpse, I was transfixed by her beauty. And startled; there was something weird about her. A low-necked, white satin dress disclosed her snowy shoulders; her head was surmounted by a pile of snow-white hair, with dangling white curls framing her pale ethereal beauty. She called again. "What's the matter with you?" Larry demanded. "Are you alone in there? What is it?" * * * * * She backed from the window; we could see her only as a white blob in the darkness of the basement room. I called, "Can you hear us? What is it?" Then she screamed again. A low scream; but there was infinite terror in it. And again she was at the window. "You will not hurt me? Let me--oh please let me come out!" Her fists pounded the casement. What I would have done I don't know. I recall wondering if the policeman would be at our corner down the block; he very seldom was there. I heard Larry saying: "What the hell!--I'll get her out. George, get me that brick.... Now, get back, girl--I'm going to smash the window." But the girl kept her face pressed against the pane. I had never seen such terrified eyes. Terrified at something behind her in the house; and equally frightened at us. 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--!" * * * * * We could see her turn to look behind her. Larry demanded, "Are you alone in there?" "Yes--now. But, oh! a moment ago he was here!" "Then come to the door." "I cannot. I don't know where it is. This is so strange and dark a place. And yet it was my home, just a little time ago." Demented! And it seemed to me that her accent was very queer. A foreigner, perhaps. She went suddenly into frantic fear. Her fists beat the window glass almost hard enough to shatter it. "We'd better get her out," I agreed. "Smash it, Larry." "Yes." He waved at the girl. "Get back. I'll break the glass. Get away so you won't get hurt." The girl receded into the dimness.