“Margaret, you must go to your room,” said the master. Maggie was startled: he had never called her by name before. She hadn’t been aware that he even knew who she was.
My kidnapping was no accident. Maggie bowed her head and walked out of the kitchen. She noticed that Jack was casually leaning against the door jamb, watching her with what could be mistaken as amusement. She only had time for a quick glance at Jack, but he appeared to be in his mid-forties, maybe. Tall – perhaps six foot two or so. Tall and on the thin side, with broad shoulders. He had dark hair, which he had slicked back with some sort of hair preparation. That was all she could glean at the moment. She walked down the hall, went into her room, and closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of her bed, wondering what to do – then she noticed that the basket was empty. Her street clothes – and shoes – had disappeared. She climbed under the blanket to keep warm. It was going to be a very long night.
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