'They are not sure where they will go or what will do for day or two more.
I will go and get breakfast. Adieu for a moment.'
Madame was out of the door as she said this, and I thought I heard the key
turn in the lock.
CHAPTER LXII
_A WELL-KNOWN FACE LOOKS IN_
You who have never experienced it can have no idea how angry and frightened
you become under the sinister insult of being locked into a room, as on
trying the door I found I was.
The key was in the lock; I could see it through the hole. I called after
Madame, I shook at the solid oak-door, beat upon it with my hands, kicked
it--but all to no purpose.
I rushed into the next room, forgetting--if indeed I had observed it, that
there was no door from it upon the gallery. I turned round in an angry and
dismayed perplexity, and, like prisoners in romances, examined the windows.
I was shocked and affrighted on discovering in reality what they
occasionally find--a series of iron bars crossing the window! They were
firmly secured in the oak woodwork of the window-frame, and each window
was, besides, so compactly screwed down that it could not open.
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