Then he stood quite still. The sight before him was such a one as he had never seen by the falls of Derryfield. Johnny’s astonished gasp told him that his friend was as taken aback as he. Sally Rose Townsend sat precariously on the edge of a four-poster bed, her face flushed and distorted. Granny Greenleaf stood in front of her, her hands busy about the girl’s dress--except that Sally Rose wore no dress. Her shoulders were bare and gleamed whitely in the candlelight, but her entire body below her shoulders seemed to be shut up in some sort of cage. The cage gapped apart in the middle to show an expanse of some white fabric underneath. It was gripped firmly together at a point just above the girl’s waist, and again below. “It’s no use, Sally Rose,” Gran was muttering. “I can’t get this foolish contrivance apart, and there isn’t a locksmith left in town. I believe there’s a blacksmith, though. We’ll send Kitty to fetch the blacksmith. Mercy, where is Kitty? I never thought of her before. Where has Kitty gone?” “Quick! Cover me up, Gran!” gasped Sally Rose frantically, her breath short, her words not quite clear. Gran glanced backward over her shoulder. Then she turned completely round and faced the intruders. “Johnny Pettengall! And you--” she peered closer, “the thief who made off with my son’s musket! What are you doing in the bedchamber of a decent lass?” “We didn’t mean no harm, Ma’am Greenleaf,” explained Johnny. “We just came from camp to see the girls, and walked into the taproom like--like anybody would. Then we heard Sally Rose scream she was being killed--” He broke off and stared again at the bent golden head of his adored one. Sally Rose was beginning to weep tears of embarrassment. “I see,” replied the old lady grimly. She stood protectingly in front of her granddaughter. After a moment she seemed to come to a decision. “Well, since you’re here, you’re here. And it’s plain some male critter will have to help us. ’Tisn’t as if the girl weren’t decently covered underneath. Can you boys get her out of that contraption?” Johnny swallowed and made inarticulate sounds. “We can try,” said Tom. “What is it? What’s it made of?” “It’s a pair of stays. An outlandish pair brought from New York for some Tory hussy.” “My mother’s stays are laced together,” said Johnny, his embarrassment lessening a little. “Won’t they come off if you unlace them?” “I cut the laces--first thing I did when I came upstairs and heard her moaning,” snapped Gran. “But these are fastened with locks at top and bottom. Come and look at them.” Gran motioned the boys forward and they gingerly approached Sally Rose. Tom reached out coolly and fingered the jeweled padlock. Sally Rose sucked in her breath and closed her eyes. Johnny looked the other way. “I could force it apart,” said Tom thoughtfully, “but it’s too small for me to get a grip on. What we need is a file. You got one about the place somewhere?”