She responded beautifully.

The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull.

She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out.

When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since.

I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house.