laid her hand on the door knob and pulled it open. A horrified
exclamation escaped her as her eyes fell upon Kathleen, whose bloodless
face was pressed against the iron grating of the inner door, to which she
was clinging for support.

"Let me out," she pleaded, her eyes dark with horror. "Let me out."

At sight of his daughter Whitney recovered himself. "Stand back,
Kathleen," he directed. "Then we can slide open the door." He had to
repeat his words twice before she took in their meaning. Releasing her
hold upon the grating, she covered her face as if to shut out some
terrifying spectacle. As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into
her father's arms.

"Bring Kathleen in here," called Mrs. Whitney from her doorway, where she
had stood, too frightened to move. "There are smelling salts on my
bureau. What can have brought on this attack of hysterics, Kiametia?"

"The Lord knows. Perhaps the machinery's out of order and she's been
stuck between floors." The spinster, suddenly remembering her extremely
light attire, backed toward her room.

Whitney, reentering the hall, caught her words. "Go to Kathleen, Minna;
she asked for you," and as his wife turned back into her bedroom, he
added, "See if there is anything wrong with the elevator, Henry."

Obediently the chauffeur stepped through the narrow entrance to the
elevator and into the steel cage. The next instant he turned an ashy face
toward his companions.