It was several seconds before Purt realized just what manner of person
had seized him by the arm in the vestibule at the girls' entrance of
Central High. It was so dark that Purt only knew it was a girl.
"Who--who are you?" he stammered.
"Oh! It's only a boy," said the girl, in a tone of disgust. "What do you
want here?"
"I--I was trying to get in," murmured Purt.
"What for? Isn't this the girls' entrance? They told me it was."
Then Purt knew that she did not belong at Central High. Indeed, she was
a different kind of girl from any the youth had ever met.
"Who are you, and what do _you_ want?" asked Purt, plucking up courage.
"I guess you don't go to Central High."
"I never went to any school--not like this, anyway."
"But what do you want here? I--I left something in the building and
wanted to get back and find it," stammered Purt.
"I was waiting to see those girls," said the stranger.
"What girls?" demanded the boy, in a panic again.
"Some that I know. I waited and watched down by that place where they
play----"
"The athletic field?" suggested Purt.
"Perhaps. And I asked another girl. She said they had not come down from
the school yet. They were kept in. So I came up here----"
"Who were the girls you want to see?"
"One is named Evangeline, and she-comes from Switzerland. I am Austrian
myself. And there is another girl--a little girl who always laughs. Her
name is like a boy's name."
"Bobby Hargrew," said Purt, with a stifled groan. "And neither of those
girls have come out of the building yet?"
"No," said the girl. "I have watched and waited for more than an hour."
Purt rattled the knob of the inner door desperately; but it was locked
and evidently there was nobody within to hear him.
"They must be away upstairs and cannot hear you," said the strange girl.
And _that_ scared Purt, too. It seemed to him that this girl must know
just what he had done to those girls whom she was waiting for. He
started to leave the vestibule.
"Hold on! Isn't there any other door we can get in by?" asked the
stranger.
"I'm--I'm going to try the main entrance. Perhaps that is unlocked,"
Purt replied.
"I'll go with you," volunteered the other, and followed him down the
steps.
Purt wanted to get rid of her, whoever she was. He wished now that he
hadn't come back to the schoolhouse. He had read somewhere that
criminals are driven by some mysterious power to haunt the scenes of
their crimes. And it must be a fact, Purt told himself, for he had
certainly been foolish to come back here to Central High--and go without
his supper.
He decided to slip out of the girls' yard and run away. But when he
reached the street there was the strange girl right at his elbow. And he
remembered that she had a grip as firm as Chet Belding's own.
So nothing would do but try the front entrance. Of course, he knew it
was ridiculous to go to that door. Even by day it was kept locked and
visitors had to ring; only the teachers had pass-keys.
But they went in at the main gate and mounted the steps of the portico.
It was indeed black under here, for the street lights were too far away
to cast any of their radiance into the place. Purt fumbled around, found
the doorknob, and tried it. To his amazement it turned in his hand and
the door swung open into the dark corridor.
"They're here, then," whispered the girl. "Where do you suppose they
are?" she continued.
Now Purt had very good reason for believing that he knew just where the
girls were whom this stranger wished to see; but he only said, gruffly:
"I'm sure I don't know. I don't believe they're in the building now."
"Oh, yes, they are. They have not come out. There are several beside
those I named. So I was told at the athletic field."
"Well, I don't know anything about them!" denied Purt, hurriedly. "I--I
just want to go up for my book----"
He shook himself free and ran for the front stairway. He knew his way in
the dark and hoped to leave the girl behind. Once let him reach the foot
of the tower stairs, he would unlock the door, fling it open so that the
prisoners would hear him above, and then dart down the boys' stairway
and so out of the school building again.
But before he reached the top of the first flight he heard the patter of
the strange girl's footsteps beside him. Through the long windows enough
light filtered to show him her figure. And she ran better than he did,
and without panting.
Purt was scared now worse than he had been before.
"She'll tell them who unlocked the door," he thought, "and so they'll
know right away who imprisoned them in the first place. Then Laura will
tell her brother and Chet will thrash me--I know he will!"
The lad was almost ready to cry now. It seemed to him as though every
step he took got him deeper and deeper into trouble.
He dashed up the other flight two steps at a time; but the girl kept on
equal terms with him. What good wind she had! She could beat many of the
girls of Central High in running, that was sure.
"I don't know what has become of Eve Sitz and that other girl you want
to see," exclaimed Purt, stopping suddenly. "And I don't see why you are
sticking so close to me."
"You know your way around this building; I don't," declared the girl,
shortly.
"I can't help you find them----"
"You seem afraid of something," remarked the girl, shrewdly. "What's the
matter with you?"
"Well, I go to school here," complained Purt. "You don't. You'll get
into trouble, coming into the building at night."
"I guess you're afraid of getting into trouble yourself," returned the
other, quite unshaken.
"Well, if one of the teachers is here and finds us----"
"I'll tell them just what I came for. Will you?" demanded the girl,
quickly, and thrusting her face into Purt's so as to see him better.
She had him there! Purt knew it--and he knew _she_ knew it. This strange
girl was laughing softly to herself in the darkness.
"Go on--if you're going anywhere," said she, after a minute. "I believe
you know where those girls are. I want to see that Evangeline and that
Hargrew girl. You show me."
"I--I don't know!" wailed Purt, under his breath.
Then he was sure he heard somebody's step. It was in one of the
classrooms opening into this corridor.
At the sound, spurred by sudden terror, the boy leaped away. He was
half-way down the corridor. Around the corner was the door of the tower.
And then, just as he dashed past a door on his right, it opened. A broad
band of light streamed out, and to Purt's ears came the quick demand:
"What's this? Who are you?"
"It's Gee Gee!" thought the boy, but he never stopped. In a moment he
realized that Miss Carrington had not addressed her question to him, but
to the girl.
He ran on, as softly as possible, and rounded the corner, knowing that
the strange girl had been caught by the teacher, who repeated her demand
in a louder and more emphatic tone.
"Who are you? What are you doing here in the schoolhouse?" Then Miss
Carrington saw that the girl was not one of her scholars--indeed, no
girl of Central High was ever dressed so gaily, unless it was at a
masquerade.
"For goodness sake, child!" exclaimed the teacher, still more sharply.
"Come in here and explain yourself."
She drew her inside the classroom and closed the door. In the full light
the strange girl was revealed in a purple velvet skirt, a green bodice,
a yellow silk scarf, or handkerchief, around her neck, and with a net,
on which steel beads were sewed, over her hair. With her dark complexion
and high color she was indeed a striking figure as she stood there,
hands on her hips, and panting slightly as she gazed back bravely into
Miss Carrington's spectacled eyes.
"For goodness sake, child!" repeated the teacher. "Who and what are
you?"
"My name is Margit Salgo," said the Gypsy girl, watching Miss
Carrington, with her sharp black eyes.
"Salgo?" whispered the teacher, and for a moment the girl thought that
Miss Carrington would sink into the nearest chair. Then she drew herself
up and, although her pallor remained, her eyes sparkled behind the thick
lenses of her spectacles.
"I suppose you are here to tell me your father was Belas Salgo?"
demanded the lady, harshly.
"I don't know who you are, Madam," said the Gypsy girl. "Are you the
lady whom the Vareys say knows all about me?"
"Who are the Vareys?" returned Miss Carrington, quickly.
"They are English Gypsies. I was placed in their care when my father's
friends brought me to this country. They have held me prisoner but I
have got away from them----"
"I do not understand you--I do not understand you," insisted Miss
Carrington, weakly. And now she did grope her way to a seat.
"Are you the teacher here whose name has in it eighteen letters?" asked
the girl, anxiously. "I do not read your English, although I speak it. I
learn to speak languages easily--it is a gift. My father had it."
"True," murmured Miss Carrington. "Belas Salgo was a wonderful
linguist."
"Does your name have the eighteen letters?" pursued Margit, eagerly. She
repeated her story about the card on which was printed, or written, the
name of the lady whom the Vareys had come to Centerport to see. Miss
Carrington listened more quietly, and finally bowed.
"Yes. I am the lady. I am Miss Carrington," she admitted.
"That is what those girls called you," muttered Margit, but the teacher
did not hear.
"You claim to be Belas Salgo's daughter?" repeated Miss Carrington, at
last.
"I am his daughter. I cannot remember my mother--much. But my father I
remember very well. Why, I traveled everywhere with him! All over
southern Europe we went. And to Algiers, and the other north coast
cities. He played everywhere about the Mediterranean until he died. And
then," said the girl, simply, "I lost all happiness--and I was brought
to this great, cold country."
Miss Carrington had listened with her head resting on her hand and her
eyes watching the girl from behind her glasses. Now she said:
"Well, I do not believe you are Belas Salgo's child--not the Belas Salgo
I have good reason to remember. No. But I will take you home with me and
we will talk this matter over.
"I was correcting some examination papers," she added, going to the desk
and turning out the student lamp. "But they may go until another time,"
and with a sigh she put on her hat and cloak, and taking the Gypsy
girl's hand led her out of the school building, the darkened corridors
of which she knew so well.