LONDON TOWN 101

hole; but as his eyes grew used to the gloom he saw that
he was in a little room. The only window was boarded
up, but a dim light crept in through narrow cracks and
made faint bars across the air. Little motes floated up
and down these thin blue bars, wavering in the uncertain
light and then lost in the darkness. Upon the floor was
a pallet of straw, covered with a coarse sheet, and having
a rough coverlet of sheepskin. A round log was the only
pillow.

Something moved. Nick, startled, peered into the
shadows: it was a strip of ragged tapestry which fluttered
on the wall. As he watched it flapping fitfully there came
a hollow rattle in the wainscot, and an uncanny sound like
the moaning of wind in the chimney.

“Tet me out!” he cried, beating upon the door. “Let
me out, I say!” <A stealthy footstep seemed to go away
outside. ‘Mother, mother!” he cried shrilly, now quite
unstrung by fright, and beat frantically upon the door
until his hands ached; but no one answered. The window
was beyond his reach. Throwing himself upon the hard
pallet, he hid his eyes in the coverlet, and cried as if his
heart would break.