Chapter 22

She had known none of the absolute horrors of life which were
possible in that underworld which was not likely to touch her own
existence in any form.

"Why," had argued Mademoiselle Valle, "should one fill a white
young mind with ugly images which would deface with dark marks and
smears, and could only produce unhappiness and, perhaps, morbid
broodings? One does not feel it is wise to give a girl an education
in crime. One would not permit her to read the Newgate Calendar
for choice. She will be protected by those who love her and what
she must discover she will discover. That is Life."

Which was why her first discovery that neither door could be
opened, did not at once fill her with horror. Her first arguments
were merely those of a girl who, though her brain was not inactive
pulp, had still a protected girl's outlook. She had been overwhelmed
by a sense of the awkwardness of her position and by the dread
that she would be obliged to disturb and, almost inevitably,
embarrass and annoy Lady Etynge. Of course, there had been some
bungling on the part of the impudent footman--perhaps actually at
the moment when he had given his sidelong leer at herself instead
of properly attending to what he was trying to do. That the bedroom
was locked might be the result of a dozen ordinary reasons.

The first hint of an abnormality of conditions came after she had
rung the bells and had waited in vain for response to her summons.
There were servants whose business it was to answer bells at once.
If ALL the bells were out of order, why were they out of order when
Helene was to return in a few days and her apartment was supposed
to be complete? Even to the kittens--even to the kittens!

"It seems as if I had been locked in," she had whispered to the
silence of the room. "Why did they lock the doors?"

Then she said, and her heart began to thump and race in her side:

"It has been done on purpose. They don't intend to let me out--for
some HORRIBLE reason!"

Perhaps even her own growing panic was not so appalling as a sudden
rushing memory of Lady Etynge, which, at this moment, overthrew
her. Lady Etynge! Lady Etynge! She saw her gentle face and almost
affectionately watching eyes. She heard her voice as she spoke of
Helene; she felt the light pat which was a caress.

"No! No!" she gasped it, because her breath had almost left her.
"No! No! She couldn't! No one could! There is NOTHING as wicked--as
that!"

Bat, even as she cried out, the overthrow was utter, and she threw
herself forward on the arm of the couch and sobbed--sobbed with
the passion she had only known on the day long ago when she had
crawled