or was happening, Joyce
seized her and began waltzing madly around the library, alternately
laughing, sobbing, hugging, and shaking her distractedly.

"Stop, stop, Joyce! _Please!_" she begged breathlessly. "Have you gone
crazy? You act so! What is the matter?"

"_Matter!_-- You ask me _that_?" panted Joyce. "You great big
_stupid_!--Why, we've discovered the way to the locked-up room!-- That's
what's the matter!" Cynthia looked incredulous.

"Why, certainly!" continued Joyce. "Can't you _see_? You know that room
is right over this. Where else could those stairs lead, then? But come
along! We'll settle all doubts in a moment!" She snatched up a candle
again and led the way, Cynthia following without more ado.

"Oh, Joyce! It's horribly dirty and stuffy and cobwebby in here!
Couldn't we wait a few moments till some air gets in?" implored Cynthia
in a muffled voice.

"I sha'n't wait a moment, but you may if you wish," called back Joyce.
"But I know you won't! Mind your head! These are the tiniest, lowest
stairs I've ever seen!" They continued to crawl slowly up, their candles
flickering low in the impoverished air of the long-inclosed place.

"What if we can't open the door at the top?" conjectured Cynthia. "What
if it's behind some heavy piece of furniture?"

"We'll just _have_ to get in somehow!" responded Joyce. "I've gone so
far now, that I believe I'd be willing to break things open with a
charge of dynamite, if we couldn't get in any other way! Here I am, at
the top. Now you hold my candle, and we'll see what happens!" She handed
her candle to Cynthia, braced herself, and threw her whole weight
against the low door, which was knobless like the one below.

Then came the surprise. She had expected resistance, and prepared to
cope with it. To her utter amazement, there was a ripping, tearing
sound, and she found herself suddenly prone upon the floor of the most
mysterious room in the house! The reason for this being that the door at
the top was covered on the inner side with only a layer or two of
wall-paper, and no article of furniture happened to stand in front of
it. Consequently it had yielded with ease at the tremendous shove Joyce
had given it, and she found herself thus forcibly and ignominiously
propelled into the apartment.

"My!" she gasped, sitting up and dusting her hands, "but that was
sudden! I don't care, though! I'm not a bit hurt, and--we're _in_!" They
were indeed "in"! The mysterious, locke