The little door closed with a slam; the light faded away from its edges. The voices of the party were heard retreating down the stairs, and Jane was left alone to realise the humour of the situation. It was undoubtedly humorous. It could hardly be dangerous, for October had been a mild month, and Jane was well used to cold plunges. The wetting of the pretty frock was of no consequence, for it was quite washable. It was fairly easy to scramble back to the rafters--Jane had done that the moment the searching party was out of hearing, and was carefully wringing out her drenched skirts. Her impromptu bath had wet her to the shoulders, besides bruising her arm rather badly. But the trying thing was to get downstairs and away without being discovered--and the whole company in full cry over the house! Jane laughed rather hysterically, shivering a little, more from excitement and chagrin than from chill. She crept carefully to the small door, meaning to push it open and listen, when suddenly it began to slide quietly aside of itself. The next instant she saw a sunburned hand upon its fastening, and heard a cool voice, close by, say quietly: "It’s all right. Nobody knows but me. They ’ve given it up, and sat down to await your own sweet will in showing up. Here ’s a big steamer rug. Will you have it to wrap up in? I ’ll get you home without a soul knowing, and we ’ll play it off as a joke, somehow." "Thank you," answered Jane, in a very meek voice, which shook with mingled irritation and merriment, as the rug came through the opening. "Perhaps I could put it on better if I were not balancing myself on these rafters." "I beg your pardon. I ’ll get out of this closet, and you can get in. I just thought you would n’t leave so--so damp a trail behind you if you were wrapped up in something. Here are a--er--a pair of Olive’s rubbers for your feet, so you won’t show any tracks." Murray’s voice was shaking also, and in a minute more the two were laughing together. Jane, shrouded in her rug, emerged from the closet into the attic, and Murray regarded her by the light of his electric searcher. "You don’t look much the worse for having taken such desperate measures to escape me," he remarked, noting with keen enjoyment the rich colour on the cheek near which he was rather mercilessly holding his torch. "Rather meet a cold ducking than a warm friend any time, wouldn’t you?" "Not at all. I--you know how one hates to be caught." "Does one? Now I can’t conceive jumping into a tank of water to escape you, if you had been after me!" "Please stop laughing at me and help me to get home." "I’m not laughing at you. I’m--I may pretend to be laughing, but inside, I assure you, I ’m tremendously worried lest this running away indicates a state of mind--" "Please take me home!"