There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round
openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at
the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her
fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of
mischief, suddenly pulled the door to.

"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried.

"Why don't you come out, goosie?"

"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!"

"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found
the knob immovable.

"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle,
really."

"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously.

"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's
voice was tremulous.

"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to
Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless.

"Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one."

Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he
looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his
whistle.

"I'll have to go myself," he said, "unless you'd rather go."

"No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go," Rosalind
answered, adding, "Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could
get the door open, I am sure."

"All right," said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. "I
am afraid to stay here," she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror.

"Oh! what are you going to do?" came in a wail from the other side of the
door.

Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. "Take her with you; I don't
mind--much," she said.

Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. "There is nothing to be afraid
of. You ought to stay with Rosalind," he urged, but Katherine was beyond
reasoning with her fears.

"Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through
the keyhole."

Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine.

"Belle, you aren't afraid?" asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of
retreating steps grew faint.

"Not v-ery," whispered Belle. "But you don't know how queer those holes in
the shutters look--like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open
them but I can't."

"Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after
all?"

"Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is aw