blown
it to. She put out her hand to fling it open, but it did not yield.
She pushed harder, pressing with all her force. It remained immovable.
Then the awful truth burst upon her. Somebody had latched the door on
the inside, and she was locked out upon the roof. Had Miss Beasley or
Miss Gibbs been taking a survey of the attics? No matter who it was,
the horrible result remained the same. What was she to do? She beat
wildly at the door, hoping to break it in, but sixteenth-century oak
and bolts were made of stuff too strong for a girl's hands. She
shouted and called, knowing all the time that it was of little avail.
Whoever bolted the door must have gone away. Miss Gibbs's laboratory
was at the other side of the house, and she might scream herself
hoarse without anyone hearing her. For a minute or two she sat huddled
up in despair. Would she have to spend the night on the roof?

It was a ghastly prospect. Hot tears came welling up, but she dashed
them away angrily. Her innate pluck rose to the surface. She had been
in difficult, even dangerous positions before, and had escaped. Surely
there must be some way out of this?

"I'll climb farther on over the roof," she decided. "If I can get
nearer the edge, perhaps someone may see me."

The chance of rescue meant admitting her adventure, and incurring
great wrath at head-quarters, but that was a lesser evil than passing
a night on the roof. She crawled to her old vantage-ground, and
descended to the right, where a gable sloped steeply. At the bottom
she passed along a wide gutter, and, rounding a corner, found that she
could easily drop on to a lower portion of the roof. She was in a
state of tense excitement. Where was she getting to? Would anybody see
her from the courtyard; and if so, how would they propose to rescue
her? It would be difficult to shout down and explain that she had come
through the little door in the upper gallery. She was on a much lower
level now than when she had first started. She crawled on, with hands
and knees rather sore and scraped with the tiles.

Another corner, and another short drop. She was nearing the edge of
the parapet. She must creep down this next piece of roof. There was
another wide gutter at the bottom. She walked along this, rounded a
jutting chimney-stack, and then paused with a cry. Facing her was a
small door, identical with the one by which she had emerged. Could it
possibly be open? She stumbled up to it, and pressed it w