Page:Arthur Stringer - The Door of Dread.djvu/90

 gloomy house confronting her. Nothing, she decided, was to be gained by inaction. If she could not get out one way, she would proceed to find another. Yet she hesitated to advance deeper into that field of possible ambush, into territory which might be bristling with danger.

She stood there, with her pert young face wrinkled up, carefully weighing what doors to try first and what line of retreat to take up in case of surprise.

Instead of advancing, however, she suddenly shrank deeper into her corner, for close beside her she heard the sound of a key being thrust into the heavy iron door-lock. She waited, breathless, as this key was turned back and the old-fashioned lock-bar released.

The next moment the door itself swung open and a man stepped quickly inside.

She stood crouched back behind the half-opened door, hoping against hope that the newcomer would pass on without locking the doors and without catching sight of her in the uncertain light.

But in this hope she was disappointed. The stranger quickly closed the door, stooped forward a little as he thrust the key into its hole, and then