"Oh, do you think there's anybody inside?" whimpered Dulcie. "Why didn't he answer, if there was?" "He might be deaf and dumb. Oh, perhaps that's the secret of the room. Is some poor creature shut up there? Oh, it's too horrible!" "Don't get hysterical!" said Deirdre. "Mrs. Trevellyan wouldn't go shutting up deaf and dumb people! It is very mysterious, though." "Shall we tell Miss Birks?" suggested Dulcie. "No, certainly not. She's always fearfully down on us if we get up any scares about the barred room. Don't you remember how cross she was with Annie Pridwell and Betty Scott last term?" "Do you ever hear any other noises?" asked Gerda. "No, only what might reasonably be rats or mice." "Has anyone any notion what's inside?" "Not the very slightest. I don't believe even Miss Birks knows." "Well, look here," said Dulcie. "I shall never dare to go down this passage alone again. One of you will simply have to come with me." "I don't think we'll very much care to go alone ourselves," returned Deirdre. "You called me a scared mouse!" Dulcie's tone was injured, as if the epithet still rankled. "Well, we're three scared mice, and it's a case of 'see how they run!'" laughed Deirdre, getting back her self-possession. "We'll go up and down in threesomes for the future." "You promise? You'll never make me pass here by myself again?" "Faithfully, on my honour! We'll act police, and protect you against a dozen possible spooks. Do stop squeezing my arm, you've made it quite sore!" "I don't know how it is, Deirdre, you never take things seriously. I can't see anything to laugh about myself. The whole thing's queer, and uncanny, and mysterious, and I hate mysteries. Why can't Mrs. Trevellyan have the bars taken down and let us look into the room?" "Ah! Ask me a harder." "'While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door,'" quoted Gerda, who was learning "The Raven". "You're both determined to make fun of it, and it isn't a laughing matter," complained Dulcie. "I haven't got my stamps yet. Come along!" CHAPTER XIII The Life-boat Anniversary On the following Wednesday three much-disinfected girls took their places in the train, and started off for the short remainder of their holiday. "I wish we didn't smell so horribly of carbolic!" protested Dulcie. "I'm sure everybody'll think we're coming from a fever hospital, and give us a wide berth." "All the better if we can keep the carriage to ourselves," chuckled Deirdre. "Those three old ladies were just going to come in, when they turned suspicious and sheered off in a hurry. I feel rather inclined to label myself 'Recovering from Measles'." "Then you'd come under the Infectious Diseases Act, and be fined for travelling in a public conveyance. Perhaps they'd turn you out, and put you in the guard's van."