strong and healthy,
and it was merely a case of overwrought nerves, and a severe mental
shock, which did not amount to anything serious.

Poor Mollie heard the ringing of innumerable bells as if from some land
beyond the clouds. Queer lights, even in the darkness, seemed to dance
before her closed eyes. She felt a pressure, a sense of
suffocation--this was the stagnant blood resuming its circulation.

Then consciousness returned so suddenly that it was painful. Mollie
raised herself by leaning on her hands and murmured:

"Where am I? What happened? That figure in white--oh, and the
girls--Betty--Grace--Amy!" she cried.

But none answered her, for by this time the others were outside watching
that very welcome man approach.

Mollie waited, and then, as her thoughts arranged themselves in order in
her brain, she began to plan what to do for herself.

"In the first place," she reasoned, "I am not seriously hurt. That
fellow, whoever he was, just thrust me into this room. And it was no
ghost, either," she went on, as she felt her arm, which she was sure had
been bruised by the grasp of the mysterious one. "I'd better make a
light, I think. Then I can see where I am. Oh, but what can have
happened to the others? I hope he didn't get them, too!"

The thought was terrifying. She dismissed it.

Mollie was a practical girl, as must needs be one who drives an auto.
She had pockets--a woeful lack with many--and matches.

It was the work of but a few seconds to set aglow the extinguished
lantern, and how Mollie blessed the thought that had prompted taking
both side lights with them. Otherwise she would have had to remain in
the gloom. The lantern had not broken in the fall, and soon a cheerful
glow made the room less gloomy, though it was a large apartment, and
there were many flickering shadows, while the corners seemed in total
darkness.

"But there's nothing there--can't be," decided Mollie, as she rose to
her feet. "I just won't let myself be frightened."

Flashing the light about the room, the girl-prisoner made it out to be a
large apartment, void of anything save a few broken sticks of furniture,
and a litter of papers. The paper on the walls was mildewed and hanging
in strips. There was a damp and musty smell in the place, but--joy of
joys to Mollie--no rat holes. The floor was solid, and she could see no
openings where the creatures might get in.

"So far--so good," she said aloud, and the sound of her own vo