herself comfortably to rest.

Meanwhile Sybil sat with her tired little dog lying on her lap. She was
too wretched to think of resting, too anxious to think of anything but
escape. Nothing that could happen to her in the outer world seemed so
appalling as the dangers that surrounded her here. And while her
companion slept soundly, Sybil racked her brain for means of escape.

People before now, chained in dungeons and weakened by imprisonment,
have nevertheless contrived to burst their fetters and break through
bolts and bars, and press through guards, and effect their freedom. And
here was she, a captive certainly, but neither fettered nor locked up,
nor guarded except by one sleeping girl. Why could she not make good her
escape? What should hinder her, if only she knew how to find her way out
of this labyrinth?

In her restlessness and distress, she groaned and lifted her hands to
her head.

Her little dog immediately woke up, and in quick sympathy climbed up to
her bosom, and whining, licked her face.

A sudden inspiration filled the soul of Sybil, and directed her course.

"If this poor little four-footed friend of mine, with nothing but her
instinct and her affection to guide and sustain her, if _she_ contrived
to find me, hid away as I was from all human help, surely _I_, with my
higher intelligence and greater powers, should be able to find my way
out of this labyrinth with her help."

Saying this to herself, Sybil tenderly caressed her little dog, then
lifted it to her bosom, wrapped Beatrix Pendleton's camel's hair shawl
closely around her, and went to the entrance of the cavern through which
little Nelly had entered.

Here she paused for a moment to listen. All was silent except for the
deep breathing of Gentiliska, that only proved how profound was the
sleep of the girl.

Then she caressed her little dog again, saying in a low voice:

"_Lyon_, Nelly! Where is _Lyon_?"

The little Skye terrier pricked up her ears and whimpered.

Then Sybil was sure that Nelly understood her words.

"Let us go find _Lyon_, Nelly; _Lyon! Lyon! Lyon!_" said Sybil, setting
the little dog down and harking her on by the way she had come.

Nelly remembered where she had left "Lyon," and so with a glad bark she
leapt forward and ran on as fast as the tortuous nature of the dark
subterranean passage would permit her to do; pausing now and then to
rest herself, and to allow her mistress time to overtake her.

"Poor, de