both my arms. Inside there! Do you hear me calling? If anyone is inside there, perhaps you’ll be so good as to let me know. I’m Pollie! Pollie Blyth!”
Not a sound came from within, for which, personally, I was grateful. She hammered and hammered, but not the slightest notice was taken of the noise she made, except by the rats, who sounded to me as if they had gone stark mad. What we should have done if anyone had replied to her summons from within is more than I can tell. We certainly should have been no better off than before. We never could have got at them. Pollie tried all she could to get that door to open, without, so far as we could judge, producing the least impression of any sort or kind. She thought of forcing the lock, but when she endeavoured to insert the end of the poker into the keyhole, it turned out that it was such a tiny one that nothing very much thicker than a hatpin could be induced to enter.
“There’s a mystery behind that door. Mark my words, Emily Purvis! It may take the form of decaying corpses, with their brains dashed out, and their throats all cut, and their bones all broken, in which case they’ll haunt us while we slumber, pointing at us spectral fingers as we lie on our unquiet beds”
“Pollie!”
“What’s the matter, my dear? They’ll be quite as cheerful anyhow as rats, and they won’t take bites at us. At least, it’s to be hoped they won’t Ugh! fancy murdered spectres making their teeth meet in your flesh!”
“Pollie, if you talk like that I shall be ill; I know I shall. It isn’t fair of you. I wish you wouldn’t. Don’t!”
“Very well, my love, I won’t. I’ve only this remark to make—if the mystery doesn’t take that
