An Adventure
Please do not think, because the girls of Kingfield High School resented
being obliged to play rounders during eleven o'clock break, that they
therefore were not enthusiastic on the subject of games. They were keen
on hockey, and their team had won three matches during the season.
Unfortunately they had no field near the school, and they were obliged
to go two miles by tram to a pitch which they rented in the suburbs. The
journey, however, made a pleasant Wednesday afternoon's excursion, and
really added to the excitement of the practice. Miss Ormerod often went
herself to watch, and on one occasion played in a match "School versus
Mistresses", and astonished everybody by her agility. She made a great
point of the due training of second and third teams, a matter which had
been rather neglected.
"You have to educate your best players," she told the Games Committee,
"I always say the strength of a school lies in its reserve teams. Every
girl in the first team ought to have an understudy, then there'll be no
panic if she has suddenly to drop out for any reason. I've known
matches ruined because schools hadn't the sense to train their reserves
properly."
But the most zealous advocate of hockey cannot fight with the British
climate, and Wednesday after Wednesday during the latter part of the
Easter term were hopelessly wet. The girls drilled in the gymnasium
instead, grousing at the disappointment of missing their fixtures, and
resigning themselves to a lower record than they had at first ventured
to hope. Miss Ormerod, who thought games of paramount importance in a
school, at last in desperation commandeered Friday afternoon, hitherto
devoted to the various outlets of "Self Expression", and turned it into
an extra hockey practice.
Before this change there had been a succession of fine Fridays, then the
weather seemed to take a spite against the school, and instead of
keeping up its good character treated them on alternate weeks to a
deluge.
It was on one of these wet Fridays that Miss Chatham suggested taking
the Sixth Form to see the City Museum. This was a new development in
Kingfield and had lately been opened. It occupied a large room in the
old Guild Hall, and was only about five minutes walk from the school.
Nothing could be nearer on such a wet day.
The Sixth joyfully snatched the opportunity offered to them, put away
books, tools, and other impediments, and went to the cloakroom to change
their shoes. Ten minutes later a jolly-looking party, with mackintoshes
and umbrellas, followed Miss Chatham down the High Street to the Guild
Hall. They went under the ancient archway, and across the courtyard, and
through the old doorway, and up the oak stairs, and along the tapestried
corridor into the great central hall, hung with the armour and weapons
of bygone Kingfield citizens. From this hall led many thick oak doors,
and one under the minstrels' gallery gave access to the new museum. It
was a fairly large room, built like the rest of the Guild Hall in
mediaeval fashion, with sandstone walls, a carved roof, and latticed
windows. It held a number of show-cases containing various exhibits.
The girls stacked their umbrellas in a corner and prepared to enjoy
themselves. There were certainly many interesting things on view, a
beautiful collection of stuffed British birds, arranged in most natural
fashion with their nests and eggs, a case full of objects from Ancient
Egypt, a number of bronze implements, stone hammers, flint arrows, and
other prehistoric weapons, lovely shells and corals, a cabinet of
butterflies, and some fine illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages. A
lady was acting curator for the afternoon, and Marion enthusiastically
claimed her acquaintance and introduced Lesbia. The two girls presently
found themselves inspecting the show-cases, with Miss Renton at their
elbow explaining the exhibits to them.
Naturally the rest of the form came hurrying up and clustered round to
listen, so an impromptu museum lecture resulted.
"I'd love to look at some of the other pictures in those old books,"
said Marion quietly to her friend. "I'm learning illuminating at school,
and those manuscripts are simply gorgeous."
"I can't take the books out when so many people are about," whispered
Miss Renton, "but if you can wait after the other girls go, I'll unlock
the case."
"Oh, thanks immensely. May Lesbia stay too? She's keen on painting."
"Certainly if she likes; but no more please. Two are quite enough."
"Right-o! I won't breathe a word to the others."
Accordingly, when Miss Chatham told her party to collect their umbrellas
and go, Marion asked and received permission for herself and Lesbia to
remain for ten minutes longer with Miss Renton. The rest of the girls
had seen all they wanted and were anxious to hurry off home. Even Regina
did not hint for an invitation to join the favoured pair. Their
footsteps echoed through the big hall as they walked away. Miss Renton
looked after them, then closed the door of the museum.
"I don't want any more of the public coming in to-day," she declared.
"If I open the show-cases we must have the place to ourselves."
[Illustration: SHE SQUEEZED THROUGH THE FRAME WITHOUT MUCH DIFFICULTY
_Page 245_]
Then followed a very pleasant ten minutes which lengthened into half an
hour. The girls were allowed to inspect and even to handle many of the
beautiful curios. It was delightfully flattering to have cases unlocked
specially for their benefit, and much more interesting than seeing the
exhibits among a crowd.
"I've a box in here that I haven't had time to unpack yet," said Miss
Renton, leading the way into a small stone ante-chamber which opened out
of the museum. "This little room was once an oratory. It's only lighted
by a lancet window. I use it as a store cupboard, because it's too dark
to hold a show-case."
Kneeling on the floor in the ante-room the girls watched Miss Renton
unpack some further treasures, then held up the lids of the show-cases
while she bestowed them in their due places.
"It's quite nice to have two assistant museum-keepers," she laughed.
"These great glass lids are so heavy I never dare to lift them without
someone to help me. If one dropped back there would be a smash."
At last everything was arranged, the cases were locked, and the keys
returned to Miss Renton's bag. She put on her waterproof, took her
umbrella, and prepared to leave the museum. But when she tried to open
the old oak door it was fast shut. She turned the ancient handle and
tugged and pulled, but all in vain. Then the horrible truth burst upon
her.
"We're locked in!" she gasped.
There was no possibility of doubt about it. It was quite easy also to
see how it had happened. When the museum was on view the door was
propped open to admit the public, the curator always shut it before she
left, and as she walked across the courtyard of the Guildhall would ring
the caretaker's bell, as a signal that the place might be closed.
To-day the bell had been broken, and the caretaker, noticing the High
School girls go away, must have come upstairs afterwards, and seeing the
museum door shut had locked it, thinking Miss Renton had gone with the
others. The three unfortunate prisoners were aghast. It seemed almost
too bad to be true. They all tried the door in turns, they knocked, they
thumped, and they called. There was no response except a dull echo.
"Why couldn't the caretaker look inside to make sure we were gone before
he locked up?" asked Marion, half-crying.
"Perhaps he did, and we were inside the little oratory. It's my own
stupid fault for shutting the door. I ought to have thought about it. It
never struck me he might come upstairs and think we were gone."
"Will he be coming up again?"
"It's not at all likely. He's probably gone home."
"Won't anybody else hear us if we knock and call?"
"I'm dreadfully afraid not, but we'll try again."
So once more they thumped and shouted and the old hall echoed, but
nobody came to release them. The situation was serious. If the caretaker
had gone home they were very much locked in, for not only was the door
of the museum secured, but also the door of the big hall, and the door
leading to the courtyard. Until to-morrow morning they were as good as
prisoners.
There still, however, remained the window. Miss Renton climbed on a
chair and peered through the small leaded panes. Unfortunately, instead
of opening on to the street, it only overlooked a kind of sunk well
among the buildings, so it would be impossible to attract the attention
of anybody outside.
Marion's eyes were filling with tears.
"Mother'll be _so_ anxious when I don't turn up," she gulped. "She'll
never think of coming to the museum to look for me."
"Nobody will," said Lesbia with a suspicious quaver in her voice.
"It'll be simply ghastly to stay here all night."
"And so cold."
"I'd give worlds for some tea."
"We have each other's company at any rate," consoled Miss Renton. "Be
glad you weren't locked in alone."
"Alone! Oh, I'd go mad!"
"So should I. I'd be afraid of the dark, and of spooks, and of rats,
and of all sorts of horrible things. Yes, I'd be absolutely raving in
less than ten minutes."
"And yet, in the Middle Ages, girls were sometimes shut up alone in
prisons far more dismal than this room, and kept there for years. Think
of the prisoners in the Bastille. Or those who were taken by the
'Inquisition'."
"How horribly cruel. I wonder they lived through it, poor things."
"It's all very well to talk about the Middle Ages, but that doesn't get
us out of this place," said Marion, rather crossly. "Are we going to
stay the night here? Or is there any way of getting out?"
Miss Renton looked at the small portion of the window which opened, and
shook her head.
"Even if we could squeeze through there we couldn't drop to the yard,
and we should be no better off if we did."
"I shall hate the sight of these show-cases for evermore. I believe that
stuffed badger is blinking at me."
"Don't be silly!"
"I know I'm silly, but it's beginning to get d-d-d-dark in here, and I'm
scared to stay all n-n-n-night."
Marion was dabbing her eyes openly. She made no pretence at heroism.
Adventures might be romantic enough in the Middle Ages, but they were
decidedly unpleasant in the twentieth century. She would rather read
about them than experience them.
Leaving her chum to be consoled by Miss Renton, Lesbia mounted the chair
and looked through the window. About three feet below her there was a
fairly broad ledge, which adjoined a roof to the right. After all, the
opening was not so very small.
"I believe I could squeeze through here," she volunteered. "If you'd
guarantee to hold me tight, I could step on that ledge down there, and
get on to the roof, then I'd scramble along till I came in sight of the
street and could shout for help."
"Oh, Lesbia! Do you really dare?" gasped Marion, running to the window.
It seemed their only possible plan of escape, and as Lesbia declared she
was not nervous, Miss Renton offered to help her. She fastened her own
leather belt as a rope to the belt of Lesbia's coat, to make a firm
support by which to hold her, and dragged a table under the window for
them both to stand upon.
Luckily Lesbia was slim, so she squeezed through the frame without much
difficulty, and lowered her feet on to the ledge. Miss Renton steadying
her by the belt, she walked about a yard, then was able to grasp a piece
of gutter and to step on to the roof.
"Let go. I'm all right now!" she shouted. She clambered up the slates on
her hands and knees till she reached the ridge. Even then she was not
within view of the street, and had to scale more angles of roofs before
she caught the welcome glimpse of a passing tram-car. Once in a position
where she could be seen she called loudly for help. A little street arab
spied her first, and stood gaping and pointing. In about half a minute a
crowd collected. Somebody ran for a policeman, others shouted to Lesbia
to stay where she was. In a short time a window-cleaner arrived with a
long ladder. He mounted and came to the rescue. Lesbia climbed down into
the street feeling exceedingly foolish, and ashamed of having made such
a commotion in the city. The policeman was kind, and the crowd
sympathetic, but it was hardly nice to be the centre of so very much
attention. People were standing up on the tops of tram-cars to watch,
carts and vans stopped to ask what was the matter, and those on the
outside of the ring were even beginning to call for a doctor and an
ambulance, imagining that she was injured. For a minute or two all
traffic was suspended.
Fortunately the policeman knew where the caretaker of the Guild Hall
lived, and sent a boy to fetch him. He arrived with his keys, unlocked
the big door, and went with Lesbia to release the other prisoners, who
were waiting and wondering what had been happening.
"I never felt so glad in my life as when I heard the key grating in the
lock," said Marion, with a sigh of relief, as they walked downstairs.
"No more museum for me, thanks. I shall be terrified ever to go inside
the place again."
"Why, it wouldn't be likely to happen twice," laughed Lesbia.
"You never know. The door might bang suddenly and get jammed. I wouldn't
risk it. If you knew the agonies I suffered in there. I wonder my hair
didn't go white, like the Prisoner of Chillon's. I tell you I heard a
rat. _I did really!_ It was gnawing away somewhere. I'd rather face a
tiger than a rat. No. You may call it shell-shock, or mental kink, or
lunacy, or anything you like, but nothing in this wide world will induce
me to go into the Guild Hall again--not even to my own wedding if it was
the only place where I could be married. _That's_ how I feel about it."