"Must have been my fancy," said a pleasant voice.

"Bless her," smiled Mr. Travers.

His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next
moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key
turned in the lock.

"Got you!" said the voice, triumphantly. "Keep still; if you try and
break out I shall shoot you."

"All right," said Mr. Travers, hastily; "I won't move."

"Better not," said the voice. "Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at
you."

"Point it downwards, there's a good girl," said Mr. Travers, earnestly;
"and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd
never forgive yourself."

"It's all right so long as you don't move," said the voice; "and I'm not
a girl," it added, sternly.

"Yes, you are," said the prisoner. "I saw you. I thought it was an
angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and--"

A faint scream interrupted him.

"You'll catch cold," urged Mr. Travers.