Then the bedroom door opened and closed; and there was a sound which jarred alarmingly into my consciousness--the turning of the key in the lock. Before I could grasp the full significance of this, the wardrobe door opened. I peeped stealthily from my corner, in spite of my terror, and saw a slim, darkish man, with a big black beard and whiskers framing his face; but of his face and its expression I could see nothing. He had a slender instrument in his hand, but how he applied it to the secret door I couldn't see. It opened, and closed behind him. I listened for his steps as he ascended, but so silent or so muffled were they that I could hardly distinguish them. But I could hear enough to know that he was safely landed in the room above. I breathed freely, and cautiously opening the wardrobe crept out. Once more I was in that bedroom I knew so well. Before me was a new mirror in place of the one I had smashed. For a moment I stared at myself, feeling very guilty, as though I had been caught at some prank. But I had no time for idle fancies. I went quickly up to the door and tried it; but, as I feared, it was locked on the outside. I was a prisoner. Even if later it were possible to venture back the way I had come, how was I to open that secret door? Evidently some kind of instrument was needed, and I had nothing; nor would I have known how to apply it had there been one ready to hand. For a moment I gazed stupidly round the room, idly noticing some travelling gear thrown on a chair; then mechanically went to the window, though I knew perfectly well that I couldn't climb down the wall, and the drop to earth was far too deep to be considered. However, I stood looking out, busily turning over in mind every conceivable plan of escape. But the ground lay far below, and the wall promised no foothold; nor had it developed any miraculous excrescences for my special behoof. I turned away, and examined the wardrobe, the sudden idea coming to me that perhaps Abou might have left his curious key in the door. But there was no such luck in store for me. The door was locked, and I had no means of opening it. Again I tried the bedroom door; but it remained sulkily closed against me. Miracles refused to come to my rescue. Being at a loss I stood in the middle of the room staring forlornly about me, and again made my useless round from the window to the wardrobe, and from the wardrobe to the door. There seemed no way of escape. The only thing to do was to hide and wait. And the only place to hide in was the wardrobe. Still, it would be time enough to hide when I heard anyone coming. Meanwhile I must continue to worry at the problem of how to escape. Again the same old round; and again without profit.