"There is really nothing to fear," said Miss Beckwith. "Here we are, a half dozen of us. I think we had better go inside. Maybe poor old Cap is locked in somewhere and held captive."

"Oh, that's so," replied Nora. "He has a habit of getting in closets and he might have sprung the door shut. Sometimes he moans----"

That was enough to excite practical sympathy, and everyone promptly stepped inside. Once within, it did not seem so fearful. Pell prowled around and Wyn made foolish noises; but Nora hung back.

After satisfying themselves there was nothing wrong on the first floor they decided to investigate the second.

"I can always hear it right over my room," said Nora when the band of Chickadees inundated that territory. "There! Did you hear that?"

"Yes, someone is crying upstairs," declared Miss Beckwith, "and we must see who it is."

"But suppose----"

"Here's Cap. He would not let anyone touch us," declared Nora. "But Becky----"

"Come along, girls, that is not the voice of a man or woman. Come, we must do something. It sounds like----"

Bouncing up on Nora, Cap whined. "There, he knows, he wants me to go up.

What is it, Cap?" Nora asked again, and again the dog whined piteously.

Now, everyone was willing to lead, yet they formed quite an orderly drill.

This was an emergency and emergency always means order for Scouts.

CHAPTER XXIII

RAIDING THE ATTIC

No one could tell just how they got there, but realizing that some one was suffering they had all followed Cap to the attic, and there waited again for the sound that was to lead them to the victim.

"There's a cabinet over there," Nora whispered. "A person might hide in that."

She was holding on to Alma and looked odd, indeed, still dressed in that gorgeous velvet costume.

"Here's another light--this will show us the far end there," said Miss Beckwith, snapping on the extra bulb.

"There it is!" gasped Pell. "Oh, it is somewhere--yes, come over here,"

she cried. "Surely that's a child!"

The faint cry, that was almost like a sob, sounded again. It must be over under the low beams.

Nora forgot her terror now, for she knew the secret place of the long, rumbling attic, and no sooner had she heard the distinct cry than she brushed past all the others, dragged up a big dust curtain, then stopped.

"Here! Here!" she called frantically. "It's a little girl. Bring the candle!"

Thistle was beside her with the extra light. "Oh, mercy!" gasped Nora.

"It's Lucia."

"Lucia," repeated the others.

"Yes, my own little darling Lucia. Oh, child," she cried out, "what has happened to you? How ever did you get here?"

"Go away. Please, go away. I can't tell you. Oh, where is Vita? Vita come!" begged a voice, while Nora tried in vain to soothe her.

"Let me there!" ordered Miss Beckwith. "The poor little thing!" she continued. "She evidently has had a fit of hysteria. Just see her gasp!

Keep quiet, dear," she said gently. "You are all right now. We will take care of you. There! Stop sobbing. Don't you know the girls?"

"She knows me, don't you, Lucia?" asked Nora, anxiously. "Oh, I am so glad we found her. She might have died."

"Don't let us waste time in talking. Here girls. Use your first aid, now. We must carry her down stairs to the air," ordered Miss Beckwith.

They carried her down carefully and laid her on a couch by the window.

"Where is this?" the girl murmured. Then she looked into Nora's face and something of the terror left her own. "Angel," she said simply, blinking uncertainly.

"You know this little girl, don't you, Lucia?" pressed Becky now, anxious to arouse her.

"Yes," she said.

Nora cast a look of appeal at the director. She wanted to speak to the sick girl. Becky motioned she might do so.

"Lucia," began Nora, very gently, "where did--you--come from?"

"I run away from--Nick," she gasped, and again that look of terror flashed across the little pinched face.

"Don't be frightened; you are here with me, Nora, now," said the girl in the velvet suit. "No one can touch you here."

"Where--is--Vita? She not come back, bring doctor?"

That was it. Vita had gone for a doctor.

"She'll be here soon," soothed Miss Beckwith. The Scouts stood spell bound. How wonderful to have found the poor little waif right in Nora's own attic!

There was a sound below. Vita came stamping up the stairs.

"What is it?" she panted. Then seeing the crowd. "You come--save my poor little Lucia!"

"Yes, Vita, we are here," replied Nora, sensing now the part that Vita had been playing. "We brought her down."

"Poor Lucia. Vita's baby--Vita's bambino," crooned the woman, as she leaned over the couch and chaffed the trembling hands.

It was a pathetic picture. The brilliantly-lighted room was like a stage with this strange drama being enacted upon it. The row of Scouts were unconsciously standing like a patrol at attention, while Nora in Fauntleroy dress, stood at Lucia's head; and the woman in the quaint peasant attire bent over; and then, there on the soft, bright couch, lay the inert figure with the great eyes staring out from under the bandage, evidently put on the hot forehead by Vita.

No questions asked, every one could see the child was kin to Vita, but not her own child, perhaps her granddaughter.