It was evidently used as a dressing room, and there was another door which, she guessed, led to a second bedroom. She turned out the lights; the door was locked, and again the key was on the outside. For a moment she suspected a trap and hesitated, but after a moment turned the key and entered the room, only to draw back instantly. Somebody was there; she heard the sound of breathing, and a tiny creak as though a body was turning in bed. And then: “Who is it, please?” asked a voice, and Leslie nearly dropped. For the child who spoke from the darkness was Elizabeth! “Don’t make a sound,” she whispered, and, taking out the key, closed the door and locked it on the inside. Only then did she feel for the light switch. The room was a small one and apparently there was no other way out than that by which she had come. The small window was barred and wired; the window itself was of opaque glass. She looked round at Elizabeth; she was sitting up in a small bed, looking with astonishment at this unexpected vision. Then suddenly she leaped out of bed and came running toward the girl, and Leslie caught her in her arms. “Are you going to take me away? I’m so frightened. These little men frighten me. I told you about them. One came and left the pistol with Mother. Oh, take me away, please, please!” Leslie gathered the frail form in her arms and kissed her. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said, but without any great conviction. “Tell me quickly, Elizabeth! Is there another way out of this room?” To her surprise, the child pointed to a plain wardrobe which stood against the wall. “She comes through there sometimes,” she whispered. “A terrible woman--with an eyeglass. She told me that if I made any trouble, one of the black men would kill me.” The child shuddered. Putting her gently away, Leslie went to the wardrobe and pulled open the door. The wardrobe was empty and reached from the floor to the height of her head. The back was undoubtedly a door; there was no disguise about it. There was neither keyhole nor handle. Using all her strength, she pushed, and the door swung open; it had been fastened by a very simple spring catch. She returned to Elizabeth and wrapped a bedspread round her thin shoulders. “You’re to be very brave and very quiet,” she whispered. “Come with me.” The child hesitated. “She told me I must never go through there,” she began, but Leslie reassured her, and they passed through into an apartment which was also a bedroom though apparently out of use. The bed was not made, and some of the furniture was shrouded in Holland covers. Again Leslie opened the main door, this time to find herself on another landing. There was nobody in sight. Down below, at the foot of a narrow flight of stairs, a light burned dimly. “You’ve got a pistol, too,” whispered the child in wonder, and Leslie smiled. “Don’t talk,” she whispered into Elizabeth’s ear, and led the way down the stairs.