.

"I wonder can she have gone to bed and be asleep? She looked terribly
tired when I saw her yesterday."

She knocked again and tried the door; then bent down and examined
the keyhole. The key was inside, and a light was burning in the room.
Janet stood up suddenly. Her lips were shaking; her cheeks were
white.

"Mr. Traill," she said in a hollow voice, but raising it as though
he were some distance away. "This door's locked from the inside, and
there's a light in the room."

He took it quite casually. "Better let me try it," he said. "It can't
be locked from the inside unless she's there."

Janet stood aside, trembling, as he tried the handle. Then he, too,
bent down and examined the keyhole.

"Good God! You're right!" he said thickly.

Janet's eyes roamed feverishly from his face to the door. When he
stood back and called out Sally's name, her senses sharpened to a
quivering point to catch the slightest sound of a reply. She must
be inside--she must be inside! Then why didn't she answer? Why? She
recalled Sally's face as she had last seen it, white, drawn, the eyes
hollow, the lips but faintly tinged with pink. Now it was in that
room, the face that she had lifted and kissed before she had said
how wonderful she was. But what was it looking like now? What was
it looking like now, alone in that awful silence?

Traill strode back into the room.

"What are you going to do?" asked Janet. "Something's got to be done!
What are you going to do?"

"Break down the door," was his answer.

He searched in the fireplace. He searched round the room.

"Take that chair! Take that chair!" cried Janet.

He picked it up by its heavy arms, stood back and then charged the
door. There was a shuddering noise, a splintering sound of wood
giving. Then it was all quiet again.

He got ready to do it again.

"Wait!" said Janet. In a quivering voice she called Sally's name
again.

There was no reply.

"Do it now!" she said, almost incoherently. "Do it now! I believe
one of the panels is giving."

He charged it once more, and then again.

"The panel's giving," said Janet.

He flung down the chair from his shoulders. The panel had splintered
from its joining at the bottom. He could just push it forward a little,
making a slight aperture.

"Get the poker!" he said firmly.

She ran obediently and brought it to him. He prized it into the gap,
levered it forward until there was room for his fingers to squeeze
through; t