“Oh, God!” she moaned, in direst terror.  Her ghastly companion seemed to edge himself toward her, an illusion born in the changing position of the light as she retreated.

“Dorothy,” came a voice behind her, and she screamed aloud in terror, dropping the lantern and covering her face with her hands.  As she swayed limply, a pair of arms closed about her and a voice she knew so well called her name again and again.  She did not swoon, but it was an interminably long time to him before she exhibited the faintest sign of life other than the convulsive shudders that swept through her body.  At last her hands clasped his arm fiercely and her body stiffened.

“Is it you, Phil?  Oh, is it really you?  Take me away from this place!  Anywhere, anywhere!  I’ll do anything you say, but don’t let that awful thing come near me!” she wailed.  By the flickering light he caught the terrified expression in her eyes.

“You are safe, dear.  I’ll carry you upstairs, if you like,” he said, softly.

“I can walk, or run.  Oh, why did I come here?  But, Phil,” suddenly, “we are locked in this place.  We can’t get out!”

“Oh, yes, we can,” he cried, quickly.  “Come with me.”  He picked up the lantern, threw an arm about her and hurried toward the stairs that led aloft.  Afterwards he was not ashamed to admit that he imagined he felt bony hands clutching at him from behind, and fear lent speed to his legs.  Up the stairs they crowded, and he clutched at the huge handle on the door.  In surprise, he threw his weight against the timbers, and a moment later dropped back with an exclamation of dismay.  The door was locked!

“What does it mean!” he gasped.  “I left it standing open when I came down.  The draft must have shut it.  Don’t be alarmed, Dorothy; I’ll kick the damned thing down.  What an idiot I was to tell no one that I was coming down here.”  But his kicking did not budge the door, and the noise did not bring relief.  She held the lantern while he fought with the barricade, and she was strangely calm and brave.  The queer turn of affairs was gradually making itself felt, and her brain was clearing quickly.  She was not afraid, now that he was there, but a new sensation was rushing into her heart.  It was the sensation of shame and humiliation.  That he, of all men, should find her in that unhappy, inglorious plight, ending her bold dash for freedom with the most womanly of failures, was far from comforting, to say the least.

“Dorothy, I can’t move it.  I’ve kicked my toes off, and my knees are bleeding, but there it stands like a rock.  We’ve got to stay here till some one chances to hear us,” he said, ruefully.  “Are you afraid now?”

“Why didn’t you spring the lock when you came down?  This is a pretty pass, I must say,” she said, her voice still shaky, her logic abnormal.

“I like that!  Were you any better off before I came than you are now?  How were you going to get out, may I ask?” he demanded, coolly seating himself on the top step.  She stood leaning against the wooden door, the diplomatic lantern between them.