CHAPTER XVIII

THE FLOOR ABOVE

Wondering what it was her chum had discovered, Doris followed her down the hall. Kitty paused at the door of their own bedroom.

“We’d better leave Wags here until we come back,” she whispered. “He might take it into his head to bark at the wrong moment and give us away.”

Leaving the dog in the bedroom, they listened to make certain that the coast was clear and then stole softly down the long dark hallway until they came to a flight of stairs leading to the attic floor.

“This is as far as I came when I chased Wags,” Kitty whispered, “but I distinctly could hear the strangest sounds coming from that room at the top of the stairs. I was afraid to go on alone.”

“Why, this must be part of the quarters occupied by the Sullys,” Doris told her. “I’ve seen them go up the back stairs any number of times. Do you think we should go up when they aren’t here? Cora is working in the kitchen and Henry is out in the garden.”

“But just listen,” Kitty commanded. “Some one is up there.”

The girls listened intently and to their startled ears there came a low moan, not unlike the sound they had heard during the night.

“You don’t suppose Henry _could_ be up there?” Kitty whispered. “Perhaps he’s drunk.”

Doris shook her head.

“No, I saw him in the yard just before I came up to find you. It can’t be either Cora or Henry.”

“Then who can it be?”

“We’ll find out.”

Noiselessly, they crept up the stairs which creaked alarmingly underfoot. At the top of the landing they hesitated, a little afraid to open the door leading into the Sully suite. At last, summoning all of her courage, Doris turned the knob and pushed the door back a tiny way.

Peeping through the crack, the girls saw only an empty and very untidy sitting room. Becoming bolder, Doris opened the door wider and they stepped inside.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong here,” she murmured in perplexity.

Just at that moment there came another, moan, louder than before. Kitty clutched her chum nervously by the arm and would have retreated from the room had not Doris held her back.

“It’s coming from that bedroom,” she whispered, indicating a closed door.

“Let’s go back,” Kitty begged.

“No, I intend to find out what that noise is.”

“But some one may come up the stairs.”

They listened, but heard nothing behind them.

“Do you think it could be an animal?” questioned Kitty, wide-eyed with fear, as another moan came from the room beyond.

“Hush!” warned Doris.

They took a step forward.

Another groan.

“I’m getting frightened,” whispered Kitty in a voice full of distress.

“Oh, Kitty, I think—”

“What can it be, Doris?”

“Look down the stairs again!”

Kitty obeyed, stepping noiselessly backward.

“It seems all right down there,” Kitty said, motioning with her hand in the direction of the floor below.

“Come!” said Doris.

Doris tiptoed across the sitting room and after a brief hesitation stooped down and peeped through the keyhole. Through the tiny aperture she looked into a barren and dismal bedroom. The curtains were drawn and at first she could distinguish little.

The weird sounds had begun again, but Doris could not decide where they came from. Kitty was tugging at her hand, trying to induce her to retreat.

“Just a minute,” Doris whispered. “I can—”

With a start she broke off as she beheld a strange sight. She made out a figure stretched out on the sagging bed and her first thought was that it must be Cora and that she was in severe pain. Yet she knew this could not be, for the housekeeper was in the kitchen.

“Oh, what is it?” Kitty demanded as she heard another loud moan.

This time Doris knew that the sound had fallen from the lips of the woman lying on the bed. But was it a woman? As the figure turned slightly on the bed, Doris saw that she had been mistaken. It was a girl not more than eighteen or twenty years of age. Her face was childish, almost baby-like, but tortured with pain and suffering.

Then Doris’s eyes traveled farther and she beheld the twisted body and misshapen limbs. The child was a cripple!

“Who can she be?” Doris asked herself. “And why is she hidden here?”

Instantly the answer flashed through her mind. Undoubtedly this child was the daughter of Henry and Cora Sully whom the world did not know existed. But why did they keep her secreted? Was it because they were ashamed of her or merely indifferent?

“What are you looking at?” Kitty whispered nervously. “Let me see!”

Doris moved aside to permit her chum to peep through the keyhole. One glance was sufficient for Kitty.

“Oh, how dreadful!” she whispered. “Who can she be?”

“I thought she might be a daughter of the Sullys.”

“There is a marked facial resemblance,” Kitty agreed. “Do you suppose the Misses Gates know she is here?”

“Why, they must. They come up here nearly every day ostensibly to read their Bibles. They probably come to see this crippled child.”

“Poor thing,” Kitty murmured, “I feel so sorry for her. Dare we go in?”

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t. She’s likely dying of lonesomeness.”

Doris took hold of the door-knob but she did not turn it, for just at that moment the girls heard the sound of footsteps on the floor below. The door at the bottom of the stairs closed. The girls exchanged frightened glances. Some one was coming and they were trapped! How could they explain their presence in the suite?

Doris cast a frantic glance over the sitting room and noticed a closet.

“Quick, we must hide!” she whispered to Kitty. They tiptoed across the room and entered the closet, softly closing the door behind them. They were not an instant too soon, for whoever was coming had reached the top of the stairway.

Daringly Doris peeped out through a crack to see who it was. To her surprise she beheld Azalea Gates. Bible in hand, the old lady entered the living room, crossed directly to the bedroom and without a glance in the direction of the closet went in and closed the door behind her.

The girls waited a few minutes to make certain that she would not return. When they heard a droning voice begin one of the Psalms, they knew they were safe.

“Now is our chance,” Doris whispered.

They slipped quietly out of the closet, and stole to the door. The stairs creaked alarmingly as they went down and they were afraid they would be heard. To their relief they reached the second floor in safety. Somewhat guiltily they rushed down the hall and entered their own bedroom.

There they snatched up Wags who had grown impatient waiting for them, and fled from the house. It was a relief to reach the warm sunshine, for the sight they had just witnessed had thrown a pall over them.

“Wasn’t it awful, Dory, to see a helpless cripple like that? I wonder if a doctor ever comes here,” mused Kitty sadly, “to give the poor thing relief.”

“We might have gone up before if the twins had only told us we could and tried to entertain the child,” suggested Doris generously. “Perhaps my singing might have eased her pain for a while, at least.”

“You are a dear, Dory, always wanting to cheer up everybody with your lovely voice. But why,” Kitty continued thoughtfully, “do you suppose this is kept a secret? We cannot help if the Misses Gates do not wish us to intrude on their private affairs. They may think we are dreadfully bold and presumptuous.”

“We probably shouldn’t have gone up there,” Doris declared.

“But how did we know who was there?” Kitty returned. “We didn’t know but that some one was in trouble. When we started out, we thought we were after a ghost.”

“I feel as though I had seen one now,” Doris said with a nervous laugh. “I do hope we don’t discover any more weird things about this place.

“My! but this bright sunlight feels good and warms one up after that musty, drab third floor, with its queer noises and moanings coming from the most unexpected places. What would Mrs. Marshall say to this clutter of old furniture and bedding? I’ll bet she wouldn’t care to keep house for the Misses Gates,” and Doris laughed as she adjusted her beret over her reddish-brown curls.

“I’m glad I’m only a visitor here,” said Kitty, “and not a life inmate.” She chuckled at the thought.

Down the steps came the two girls. They glanced back to see who might be listening to this conversation between them. They did not wish to be overheard by any one within the rambling old structure.