."

The voices sounded near. Clo felt that her blood was turning to water.
Should she fly back and lock herself into her room? No, for Kit would
discover her loss, and would guess what had happened. A fight for the
pearls would be too uncertain, and Kit would call Mrs. Mac and Vi to the
rescue, or Churn might come----But could she hope to pass safely if she
went on? No, she had promised to guard the door. Kit would accuse and
stop her if they met.

In her anguish Clo's fingers closed upon Chuff's key. If only she could
hide in Chuff's room before Kit reached his floor! She stumbled down the
last few steps, and paused at the room under Kit's. Would the key fit?
It went deep into the small keyhole, and turned. Kit must be close to
the top of the stairs now.

XXXIV

TRAPPED

Trembling the girl locked herself into Chuff's room and went straight to
the telephone. If O'Reilly were at home he would make a dash to the
rescue. Her hand was on the receiver when she remembered that she was
marooned. She was ignorant of the 'phone number and had never dared
inquire the number of the house or street. Now, when it was too late,
she wished with all her heart that she had slipped out late at night,
while Kit and Churn slept, and thus found her bearings. She had not
gone, because the pair always talked till after midnight, and the later
the hour the more important their confidences. But surely she could not
fall over this small stumbling block! The girl ran to a writing table
and opened the blotting-book. It was old, thickly patterned with stains,
but it contained not a single sheet of paper. She pulled out a drawer.
There was writing paper in it, but unstamped. While she fumbled, hoping
for an old envelope addressed to Chuff, the girl could hear the patter
of feet overhead. Kit was in her own room walking about. Suddenly the
boards ceased to creak. Kit had stopped. Was it at the bedside? Was she
pulling the cover off the patched pillow?

Clo had turned to a shelf crowded with books and magazines when a new
idea came to her. She snatched up the blotter and held it open, in front
of a mirror, over the mantelpiece. "Dear Peterson," she read, "Churn
will take you this, and----"

The line beneath mingled with others, and could not be disentangled, but
the address of the house had been written above, and could be clearly
read.

With a sigh of thanksgiving Clo ran to the telephone, called up Central,
and asked for the Dietz