She still felt reasonably sure of herself. And at that juncture, she told herself, nothing was to be gained by hesitation. So she stepped briskly forward to turn on the switch.
She was half-way across the room when she heard the slam of the door behind her. Then came the sound of a key hurriedly turned in the massive lock, and then she uttered a foolish and quite child-like little squeal of indignation.
She ran back to the door and tugged at the knob. Then she fell to kicking at the panels. But this resulted in nothing. And she knew, by this time, that Wallaby Sam had deliberately, and a little more promptly than she had expected, made her a prisoner.
She stood there for a minute or two in the darkness, schooling herself to calmness. Then she felt her way carefully about the room, padding along the solid wall until she came to the light-button. To her relief, as she pushed this, a solitary electric bulb flowered into light in the ceiling above her. Then she stood with her back to the wall, studying the room about her.
It was not a promising room, she saw, in which to be a prisoner. It was quite without windows,
