# The Outdoor Girls in a Motor Car/Chapter 18
#### CHAPTER XVIII
##### THE PRISONER

Mollie tumbled in a heap on the floor of the room, into which the white-robed figure had thrust her. She gasped once or twice, for her breath had grown short, not alone from fright though—she admitted that she was terribly scared—but from the rough treatment she had received. Then, as she endeavored to get to her feet in the darkness—for her lantern had fallen from her hand and been extinguished—she fainted, and fell back. Her heavy mass of hair, uncoiled and loose, served as a cushion, and so saved her as she crashed backward.
This much of Mrs. Mackson's theory was correct. Mollie could not answer the frantic calls of her chums, for she was insensible.
How long she remained in this condition she could not afterward tell, but it could not have been for long, since she was strong and healthy, and it was merely a case of overwrought nerves, and a severe mental shock, which did not amount to anything serious.
​Poor Mollie heard the ringing of innumerable bells as if from some land beyond the clouds. Queer lights, even in the darkness, seemed to dance before her closed eyes. She felt a pressure, a sense of suffocation—this was the stagnant blood resuming its circulation.
Then consciousness returned so suddently that it was painful. Mollie raised herself by leaning on her hands and murmured:
"Where am I? What happened? That figure in white—oh, and the girls—Betty—Grace—Amy!" she cried.
But none answered her, for by this time the others were outside watching that very welcome man approach.
Mollie waited, and then, as her thoughts arranged themselves in order in her brain, she began to plan what to do for herself.
"In the first place," she reasoned, "I am not seriously hurt. That fellow, whoever he was, just thrust me into this room. And it was no ghost, either," she went on, as she felt her arm, which she was sure had been bruised by the grasp of the mysterious one. "I'd better make a light, I think. Then I can see where I am. Oh, but what can have happened to the others? I hope he didn't get them, too!"
The thought was terrifying. She dismissed it.
​Mollie was a practical girl, as must needs be one who drives an auto. She had pockets—a woeful lack with many—and matches.
It was the work of but a few seconds to set aglow the extinguished lantern, and how Mollie blessed the thought that had prompted taking both side lights with them. Otherwise she would have had to remain in the gloom. The lantern had not broken in the fall, and soon a cheerful glow made the room less gloomy, though it was a large apartment, and there were many flickering shadows, while the corners seemed in total darkness.
"But there's nothing there—can't be," decided Mollie, as she rose to her feet. "I just won't let myself be frightened."
Flashing the light about the room, the girl-prisoner made it out to be a large apartment, void of anything save a few broken sticks of furniture, and a litter of papers. The paper on the walls was mildewed and hanging in strips. There was a damp and musty smell in the place, but—joy of joys to Mollie—no rat holes. The floor was solid, and she could see no openings where the creatures might get in.
"So far—so good," she said aloud, and the sound of her own voice, in a measure, reassured her.
​"I wonder had I better call again?" she thought. "Yes, it will be best."
And so she sent out a ringing cry for her chums. But the room had thick walls—the door was a solid one, and, as Betty, Amy, Grace and Mrs. Mackson were having a surprising time of their own just then, they did not hear the appeal.
"I'll have to depend on myself," thought Mollie. "Well, I can do it, I think!"
She paused a moment to gather her thoughts together, and, being a girl of method and order, she began at the beginning.
"In the first place, let me think how I got here," she mused. "Something in white grabbed me, and thrust me here. It was a very human touch—depart the ghost theory. I believe, after all, that Mr. Lagg was right—it is some one trying to make out that this place is haunted in order to get it for a lower price. The food supply proves that, I think.
"Anyhow, here I am—pushed in by some man masquerading as a ghost. That much is certain. And what was it he said, as he caught hold of me—'So you have come back!' That is all I remember. This would seem to indicate that I had been here before, and that he was either expecting me, or wanting me.
"A case of mistaken identity, at all events, for ​I never should have come back, had I been here before, and that I was never here before is positive. Come, Mollie, we are getting on in this deduction business. Some one mistook me for some one else, and that shows that it is not really me who is wanted. That's good.
"Then, if that's the case, the sooner the mistake is discovered, and rectified, so much the better. I shall be released as soon as that queer man in the winding sheet discovers his error.
"And he ought to do it soon, for he seemed very anxious to get me back, and doubtless he will soon come to find out why I—or the person I am supposed to be—went away."
Then Mollie had another idea. She reasoned this out as she flashed the rays of the lamp about the bare apartment.
"But why should I wait for that man to come back?" she asked herself. "There might be trouble when he discovers that I am not the person he thinks me. He may be angry. And, though doubtless Betty and the others will do all they can for me, I had better see if I can help myself.
"Oh, isn't it all queer? The folks at Home will never believe it when we tell them."
Mollie went quickly over the different happenings of the night, and tried to figure out a ​reason for the various ghostly manifestations. That they were the work of some one endeavoring to depreciate the value of the property, she was certain.
"That man may have hired some girl who looks like me to help him," she thought, "and she may have become afraid, or worried, and left. Then I have to blunder in here, and in the dark he takes her for me. I'm sure that's it."
Then came a change of mood.
"But what is the use of speculating and guessing about it?" Mollie mused. "I had much better see if there is a way out. Oh, joy! A window—two of them!"
She approached the casements, realizing that as she was on the ground floor the sills could not be very high from earth. But though she saw that the catches on the frames were broken, and though she managed to raise one sash, it was with a jolt of disappointment that she saw the windows vere heavily barred.
"A regular prison!" gasped Mollie. "This must have been a most peculiar house—barred windows. No wonder people shun it. Ugh! It gives me the creeps."
She flashed her lamp on the wooden sill, into which the iron rods were screwed. Then a wave ​of hope came into her heart. She saw rotting wood and rusting iron. She pushed on one bar. It gave slightly.
"I can force them out, I'm sure!" she exclaimed aloud. "Oh, for something to use!"
Her light shone around the room—on a pile of broken chairs. She ran and grasped the leg of one. It was heavy and solid.
Mollie placed it between two of the bars, and pried. She was strong, and it did not take all of her muscle to force the ends of the rods from the rotting wood of the sill. A child might have done it. In a moment she had a space sufficiently wide to enable her to get out.
And then she heard a sound out in the road. It was a carriage being driven rapidly.
"Perhaps that man went for some vehicle in which to take me away!" thought the girl, aghast. "I had better not go out! What shall I do? My light! I must put it out, or he'll see me," and she turned the flame of the lantern down, leaving herself in darkness.