CHAPTER XIIIDouble "A" and a Diamond CrownIn a day or two Pamela had recovered from those pricking fears. After all, there was nothing to worry about. The Countess would not worry her any more, because she had been firm. "The great thing is," thought Pam, "to be firm. To let people really see that you mean what you say, then they won't 'try it on'." She felt that the Countess had been inclined to "try it on". There was no doubt about that. Now it was ended, and no one a penny the worse. Who she was, or what she did at Woodrising must remain a mystery, for the present anyway. It was tantalizing, but, as the girl had offered no explanation herself, Pamela felt it would be impossible to pry or ask servants, even if they would answer. She was sorry about the brooch, sorry for the loneliness of this strange young person; all the same, she felt instinctively that the Countess could very well take care of herself.The sun shone, the wind blew, not too hard. Pamela, with something of thankfulness, threw herself into the boating plans, and went out fishing for whiting, which the family ate joyfully.Three or four days of peace went by, and then a positive bomb of annoyance fell into her pleasure, scattering destruction on all sides.Adrian put off things often. He forgot, or seemed to for the moment, but never for good. There was a strong underlying tenacity in his nature; he always did--ultimately--what he said he would do. Therefore, after apparently forgetting what he had said about inspecting the Beak cliff, he went off one day before breakfast--after an early bathe--and went down over the ground that had been so much discussed.The result was startling.When Pamela came down to breakfast that morning she found everybody absorbed in the examination of some small thing Mrs. Romilly was holding. She, sitting in her place behind the urn, was turning this article in her hands, and Adrian, who had given it to her, was leaning over the back of her chair, Crow stooping over the tea-cups, Hughie enjoying a good view under people's arms, and Miss Chance pretending to see for fear of giving trouble.Christobel looked up as Pamela entered."Oh, Pam--Addie has been on the Beak, and he has found the most adorable brooch--I wish to goodness Mum would feel we might keep it!""Why not? findings--keepings," said Adrian. "I present it to Mother. It's a ripper.""Thank you, darling--but it wouldn't be possible to keep it." Mrs. Romilly held up the small object for Pamela to see.Before she looked, she guessed, then taking it in her hand saw the guess was correct.A gold safety pin about an inch and a half long, attached to it, the loveliest decoration, a double "A", that is two capital A's entwined, and above them a tiny coronet, the whole made in diamonds. It was stained with earth and damp when brought in, and Mrs. Romilly, putting it into a cup, washed it with hot water and rubbed it on her soft handkerchief. It was lovely, and obviously very valuable.Pamela gazed at it speechless, turning it over in her hands, trying to think--but feeling too startled."Jolly lucky, wasn't I, Pam?" Adrian bent over and took the jewel from her."On the Beak?" questioned Pamela uncertainly."Yes. Just the place where you hauled up little Ensor. I 'reconstructed the crime', as the French Police do; result of reconstruction, can't think how you managed to do it! I couldn't. Found it took all the running I could do to keep in the same place, so to speak. Stiffish climb with no encumbrances. Just in a tuft of grass I found this thing stuck; it looked as though someone had dropped it and then trodden on it, squeezing it down fairly firm, but not burying it.""How funny!" commented Pamela weakly. She felt it was weak, and that made her turn pink. Then, knowing she had turned pink, nervousness seized her and she became very white.Christobel was looking at her, wondering, surprise visible in her honest eyes."I want Mum to keep it," said Adrian, "why shouldn't she? It's a mystery how it got there. It may have been stuck in that tuft for years. The person who owned it may be dead.""Oh no, we must hand it over to the Police," said Mrs. Romilly. There was a general cry of "oh Mother!" as she took the brooch back again into her hand, and examined h even more critically. In that moment a thought struck her, and she looked up at her eager family."Crow dear--why shouldn't it be Auntie A's? Why, of course, my dear children--why not? Consider the letters, 'A' and 'A' entwined--it no doubt stands for Adelaide Ashington. After all, it is rather rare to have two 'A's' for your initials.""But, Mummy, the crown----" suggested Crow."Coronet? Why not? Miss Ashington and Lady Shard are daughters of Lord Stilborough. They might have a coronet in a jewel, I daresay--just for ornament. Crow, isn't Lady Shard's name 'Amelia'?"Christobel said it was, also suggested that Mollie's name was Amelia Mary."Oh well, then," went on Mrs. Romilly, "I'm afraid, Addie dear, there isn't much mystery."But look here, Mother," Adrian interrupted eagerly, for he disapproved strongly of this explanation, "I say--you're not going to make me believe that either Lady Shard or Auntie A. wandered about the Beak cliff!""Oh no, not they, of course. But don't you see, Addie, the thing might have been dropped and picked up by someone who wasn't honest. It may even have been stolen. You know how utterly vague they both are, dear souls, they'll forget and never miss it. Then the person who had it might have gone on the cliff front--some servant--man-servant from London, say--chauffeurs, anybody--I propose that someone goes up to Crown Hill and hands it over to Auntie A. It is most certainly theirs.""Once it gets into Miss Ashington's hands no one will see it again," said Pamela desperately."That sounds rather an awkward remark," commented Adrian, as they all took their places round the table."I don't mean she'll steal it," explained Pam, very hot and worried, "but what's the good of talking; everybody knows her. Whether it is hers or not she'll forget Mother has sent it to her, and things will drift vaguely.""What would you do then?" asked Crow."Oh, give it to the Police, and tell them to advertise it. Then the real owner will claim it."So said Pamela in the despairing hope of giving a chance to the Countess, who would claim, of course, through Sir Marmaduke, if she did not wish to appear in the matter.Adrian agreed with her, quite unexpectedly, for which she felt grateful."There's a lot of sense in Pam's notion, Mother," he said, "Auntie A. is no more and no less than the White Queen inAlice Through the Looking-glass--with just as much sense. She's an old dear, we all know--but she'll give the thing to Charles to eat as soon as not; or hand it to a beggar in mistake for sixpence! She doesn't know the difference between her own hat and a church hassock.""Darling," expostulated Mrs. Romilly, "is it as bad as that?""Well, Mum--you know Auntie A. I vote for the Police Station at Ramsworthy. Let me take it there.""I think we ought to try Crown Hill first," said his mother, quietly persistent, as always, now the idea had once lodged in her brain. "Who'll go?"A wild impulse rushed into Pamela's brain. Should she offer to take it, and return it to its rightful owner, trusting to the fact that Miss Ashington would never remember whether she had received it or not? But the thought occurred only to be rejected. It wouldn't do at all. It would be horrid, and after all, suppose the brooch was given to Auntie A., all she had to do was to tell the Countess, who could write to Sir Marmaduke Shard and explain that the strange jewel was hers. That was simple enough.When the party dispersed after breakfast Pamela felt better. The path seemed less encumbered. She decided to write to the Countess and to take the letter herself and leave it at the gate. Miss Chance and Hughie conveyed the precious parcel to Crown Hill with a letter from Mrs. Romilly, and the other two went off to the bay to overhaulMessengerfor a grand clean up and polish.After several attempts Pamela wrote a note that satisfied her."Your safety pin brooch has been found on the Beak cliff and sent to Miss Adelaide Ashington at Crown Hill. Because the initials are 'A.A.' my mother thinks it must be hers or Lady Shard's. If you apply to them, no doubt you can get it back.--P".Having read this once or twice and finding it met the case, Pamela folded the note neatly, sealed it with her own little silver seal, and went out. She did not go straight up the road to Woodrising, but across the valley, round through Crown Hill park, into the woods at the inland end, and down the hill from the station.Finding the road clear she rang the gate bell with vigour, handed the message to Mrs. Trewby, with the sentence, "no answer, say, please," and departed--not down the road past Fuchsia Cottage, but back up towards Folly Ho, and over the hill behind on to the Bell Ridge above the church, and so home, down the steep to the Bell House--in time for lunch. The only person she met was Mr. John Badger of Champles, a large and heavy man with the smallest possible twinkling eyes. There was no harm in Mr. Badger--no harm at all, he was a kind man, but he had one weakness and that was gossip. The largeness of his body was the very opposite extreme to the size of his mind--which could not well have been smaller. He was driving sheep from one fenced bit of his fields to another--there was not much for them to eat on the Bell Ridge Downs and they had to be kept to measured allowances or they would have wandered away to look for something better."All alone, missie?" said Mr. Badger in friendly spirit."I like walking alone," answered Pamela."Well, well, no harm can't come to you these parts. No tramps don't come up along these ways. You don't see no strangers about--can't call Mrs. Chipman to Woodrising a stranger, same as she lived down along Crown Hill some fifteen years.""Oh," murmured Pamela, which was hardly a remark at all, but she felt as though her mind had best remain a blank to all these questions. As for discussing them, she did not wish to think about them, even."What a lovely view there is from here, Mr. Badger!" she rushed into generalities, "don't you wonder if sheep see anything? Can they enjoy a view, or do they see nothing at all?"Mr. Badger opined that all the sheep cared about was a "belly-full", which was no doubt very true.Pamela left him gazing after her, and wondering why she had come up there all alone. Mr. Badger saw mysteries and scandals in every movement of his neighbours, which made life very interesting for him.Pamela could see "plumb down" into Bell Bay as she went lower and lower on a slope that rivalled the Beak, but was better holding-ground because of ferns and stubby gorse. It seemed as though you could take a flying jump on to the roof of the Bell House, among the twisted chimneys. She could see theMessengerat her moorings, looking like the loveliest toy--white deck, white hull, and gold line glittering in the sunshine. She saw the dinghy put off from her and come ashore--infinitely tiny, with wee figures rowing, dressed in white, Addie and Crow. She heartily wished that brooch had never been found; or if it was to be found, that it might have been her fate to find it. It was bad luck Adrian coming into the muddle. However, the Countess had only to write to Sir Marmaduke and he could claim the jewel from Auntie A. and settle the whole affair within three days. It was no use bothering about it any longer.In this mood Pamela arrived at home, looking lovely and happy, only to be at once reminded of the business again by Miss Chance's report.She and Hughie came across the lawn with the others, and the first thing Pam heard was Adrian's eager information to his mother, who was sitting on the terrace outside the drawing-room windows."Mother, the Floweret says Auntie A. swears it isn't hers. She'll have to give it up.""But is it Lady Shard's?" asked Mrs. Romilly."Miss Ashington appeared uncertain as to that--indeed she was a little confused----""She always is," Adrian interrupted."Hush, Addie; let Miss Chance tell me what was said.""It really was not easy to gather her opinion, dear Mrs. Romilly, because it seemed that Miss Ashington had been administering a decoction of herbs--I think on Adrian's advice--to the spaniel. She was anxious and perturbed as she thought the poor dog was suffering.""Oh, laurel water! My only aunt, what a priceless situation!" murmured Adrian, and collapsed on the grass."Ihopehe won't die," said Crow, anxiously."What did Addie advise?" inquired her mother.Christobel was careful."Mummy, she told us she was going to make tea out of sage or--I don't know--some filth she'd heard or read about it. I expect she's given Charles a dose; I don't wonder he's in pain. But, Miss Chance, did she say anything about Lady Shard and the brooch? That is the thing that matters.""I understood her to say that she would inquire, but her conversation was disconnected.""You bet it was," said Adrian from his seat on the edge of the terrace."We must leave it for the present. There's the lunch bell--hurry, everybody," advised Mrs. Romilly, getting up and passing an arm through Christobel's."Mother, I wish we'd never sent it to Crown Hill," said Crow, as they went in at the big window. "Will you promise to ask about its fate? Don't let's lose it. After all, Addie found it, and failing an owner he ought to have it."Mrs. Romilly promised to ask after a decent interval, and the matter dropped for the moment.Nothing more happened about it except that, missing Hughie, Pamela sought him in "the cave" later on, where he was absorbed in making a doll's ulster out of a bit of checked fluffy material that had been given to Hennery Doe to make strips of, wherewith to fasten down the arms of plum trees on the north wall. Hughie, seeing infinite possibilities in the bit of stuff, had calmly annexed it, and it was now taking shape, the "arm-sleeves" proving a tough problem, owing to the thickness of the stuff and the smallness of the doll."Well," said the workman, when Pam looked over the barrier."There's a new bother, Midget.""I know. I saw your face. Is it about that girl?"Pamela explained about the brooch; telling the story of it."It's rather tiresome," allowed Hughie, turning the coat inside out."I wonder what she'll do?" Pam's tone was worried."She might go and ask for it.""She couldn't ask Miss Ashington, she doesn't know her," said Pamela quickly."She's the kind of person who might do things you didn't think about. I don't care for that sort of girl." Hughie spoke as one with life-long experience. "You'd better look out, Pam.""How can I look out?" retorted Pamela almost irritably. She was never cross with Hughie."Well," said the Midget, recognizing that she had much excuse, "we may as well both look out, for I'm pretty sure she's rather a tiresome person."That was all the comfort Pamela received, but poor as it was, in a way it did comfort her; there was something so imperturbable about Hughie, it made her feel less inclined to exaggerate.Evening fell, rather dark, because the moon rose late. Miss Adelaide Ashington sat outside in the broad tessellated piazza, that ran along the south-west front of Crown Hill house. It was a handsome house; white, in the Italian style; the gardens were beautiful when in good order. Auntie A. had her breakfast outside as a rule, often her tea--but not dinner, because lights being necessary--for eating at any rate, when your dinner-hour is late--she was afraid moths and other creatures would fly into the lamps. So she sat out after dinner, in the growing shadows, sipped coffee, and comforted Charles, who was recovering from internal disorder.A tall slim figure came towards her from the gardens, walking with easy assurance among the shadowy flowerbeds. Charles heaved himself up on his cushion, and barked weightily in a strangled manner. Miss Ashington, looking about for the cause, said:"Well--well--well--it's only our dear Pamela--what a fuss--what a fuss."Charles choked in his endeavours to express disapproval, and "our dear Pamela" came up to the piazza and greeted his mistress.She said it was a lovely evening, but her feet were wet with the dew; she leaned against a pillar, and, turning up one slim foot, looked at the sole of her shoe. Miss Ashington looked at it also, in a vague kind of manner--she could not see, but she was disturbed to know it was wet."Surely it is late for you to be out, dear child," said Auntie A., "hush, Charles, be quiet, you know very well who it is--now let me call Dickens and she will find you dry shoes--what about Mollie's--I really cannot allow----""But I must go back at once," said the girl, "please do not call anyone," as Miss Ashington hunted on her table for the brass hand-bell that was supposed to be at her elbow, but was always underneath other things, "please do not. I came from my mother to say, may she have the safety-pin brooch with the diamond crown that Adrian found on the cliff--that she sent to you--because the owner is found.""Ah, the brooch with A initials--yes--yes--yes--nowwhere," murmured Auntie A. "I think I had better ring for Dickens----" she hunted for the bell and the table fell over.Charles coughed himself into convulsions."Dear, dear--if you can find the bell--please ring it, dear child.""Dear child" was on her knee hunting, with the bell safely covered by her skirt. She was searching among the overturned articles with the desperate hope of finding what she came for, instinct suggesting that it might easily be actually on the table.It was. That is to say, it had been put into Miss Ashington's wicker work-basket, which, having fallen over also, upside down, had emptied its contents on the tiled floor. The brass bell clattered, the reels of cotton spun about driving Charles into delirium, but the searcher cared for none of these things, for she had seen the sudden glint of the diamonds in a ray of light that the drawing-room lamps threw out across the pavement."Here it is," she said, with a ring of joy in her voice, "let me make this right."She set the table up, bundled the obvious contents of the work-basket back into place, seized the papers, books, wool, finally the bell--and put them on the table--in doing so she rang the bell, and on the instant was upon her feet, straightening her shady hat."Thank you, thank you, Miss Ashington--and I must now go--my shoes are so wet. You will forgive me that I go at once."A maid appeared, coming out of the window in answer to the bell summons.As Miss Ashington looked round to speak to her, Pamela melted into the shadows like a wraith."Is that you, Farr?" Auntie A. was rather flustered. "We had an accident. No, I didn't ring--not intentionally--the table fell over. Take care you don't slip on a reel, they are so treacherous and the pavement is very---- Oh,poorlittle Charles, he was so upset and quite resented a visitor at this time of night!""You must have been surprised yourself, ma'am," said Farr, making conversation as she chased reels, thimbles, and mysterious little bundles that were perfectly useless."Miss Pamela came for the diamond brooch--I think I told you that Mrs. Romilly sent it to me believing it to be mine because of the initial. Mr. Adrian discovered it--on the cliff--at least I fancy that was what--thank you, Farr---- You see my poor Charles was so ill this morning, that--however, I'd quite forgotten where I put it, but it fell out of the work-basket when---- Of course a summer night is not like any other time of year, but I could not help feeling that Miss Pamela should have had an escort.""I saw Miss Romilly from the window, ma'am," said Farr, picking up the coffee tray from its special stool, "tall young lady she's growing; very stylish too; 'er 'air is beautiful.""So it is--so it is--lovely hair. I'm very fond of that child. I hope she has not caught cold. I fancied she was a little hoarse to-night, quite likely if she runs about like this in such a heavy dew. I think I'll come in now, Farr, if you will kindly carry Charles' basket."CHAPTER XIV"If anybody dies, it'll be her,"said HughieIt must have been about a week after that when Hughie, passing by Pamela's door with a view to making himself tidy for lunch, heard a sound of stifled sobbing. He stood still, quite shocked. Here was an unprecedented state of things, and one outside his experience, because Pam was a cheerful interested person, always busy, never morbid. It was horrible.Hughie had been in "the cave" since breakfast and was on his way to his room rather "delicately" like King Agag, because he knew his mother would wish him to be out of doors, and he had shirked the boat and the bay to finish some particular job of his own devising. Meanwhile something had been happening, obviously. But what?He opened the door which was not locked, and put his head into the room. Pamela was lying on her bed face downwards, crying bitterly.Hughie shut the door, then he walked close up to the bed, and very very gently pulled the heavy plait of hair that fell across her shoulders and on to the counterpane. Immediately there was a change in the tone of the sobs. A choke--then silence--then a faint cough, then a sigh--Pamela changed her position a little, and felt for a lost handkerchief. Hughie, noting the missing article on the pillow, put it into her hand. A minute after that she raised herself into a sitting posture, and looked at him; her pretty eyes were heavy and swelled, and her lips trembled."Pam," said Hughie, cut to the heart yet reserved, "I expect it's that woman?"Pamela nodded and blew her nose."Well, what's she been doing now?" To show that he was come to stop, Hughie dropped noiselessly to the floor and sat cross-legged, clasping an ankle in either hand.Pamela cleared her throat and said in a tone that tried hard to be indifferent and casual."Mother thinks--I've stolen that brooch--and told a lie--because----" stifled silence ensued."Well," said Hughie, "that's very ridiculous.""Not when you hear--what it's about----" again there was a pause, then starting on a lower note altogether Pamela said:"Mother wanted to hear about the brooch, Addie made her. So, after a week, you see, she wrote to Miss Ashington and asked what had happened and if it was hers--I mean if the brooch was. This morning Auntie A. sent down a note--all scrawly and covered with blots and half the words left out as usual," this description was emphasized bitterly, "and she said--she said that I fetched the brooch on the same evening you and Miss Chance took it--you remember, Midget, a week ago to-day.""I know," agreed Hughie, "the morning Charles ate the laurel water.""Yes, well she says,Icame in the evening about nine, or half-past nine, and said Mother sent me for the brooch, and she gave it to me--she says a good deal more; something about her work-basket being upset; but anywayItook the brooch away, and there's an end to it.""Why, it was the girl--my goodness, she's a funny person!" said Hughie."She's a beast. She's a perfect beast without any decency or sense of honour," declared Pamela in a stormy burst of indignation. "I told her to write to Sir Marmaduke and ask him to claim it from Auntie A. It was perfectly simple. Then she goes and plays this low trick again.""You'd better tell about her," suggested Hughie with interest."I said I wouldn't. She said it would get her into awful trouble.""Well, she gets you into trouble.""I know, but, Midget, she's all alone--her mother seems to be dead; her father was killed in the War. Fancy being shut up with Chipman and no one decent to speak to! You see, I don'tblameher for trying to get her brooch back--she might do that----""It was rather clever," Hughie chuckled suddenly, "a sort of short cut, Pam.""I daresay, but people oughtn't to use short cuts that hurt other people so awfully.""She's selfish," said Hughie gravely, "fearfullyselfish, she doesn't care when the others get hurt."There was a long pause; then Pamela announced that she wasn't coming down to dinner; she told him that Mrs. Romilly had gone off to Crown Hill to see Miss Ashington."What did Mum say to you?" asked Hughie."Nothing. Not a word--she gave me the letter to read.""What did you say?""I was feeling so sick and awful, I don't know what I said--except that I didn't go at all. It sounded so helpless in the face of that letter.""I think I'll go to dinner," announced Hughie suddenly, and he picked himself up, dusting himself in an incomplete manner."You can have my brush and comb, Midget, if you like," suggested Pamela, lying down again in a languid manner. "Oh dear, I wish I was dead. People say when there are two of a person one always dies. I hope it'll be me."This was very gloomy. Hughie gazed at her from under his brows as he brushed his hair. Then he looked at his hands, appeared satisfied that their condition would pass the eagle-eyed inspection of the Floweret, and walked to the door. From there he said:"If anybody dies it'll be her," and went, closing the door quietly behind him. Pamela felt comforted.Dinner was proceeding in the dining-room, in a horribly uncomfortable manner, because the three persons present all knew of this amazing state of things, and not one knew what to say. Hughie slid into his chair and was helped to mince without comment. Miss Chance was doing her best to keep up a pretence that nothing was the matter, and welcomed her youngest pupil as an ally, but Hughie was glum."Now," said the Floweret hopefully, "dolet us settle about a picnic. I am sure Hughie will side with me. Adrian, what about an alliance between boats and pedestrians--to Ramsworthy Cove, for instance--or farther; the sands at Netheroot looked so inviting when we passed the other day, I always contend there are no such sands anywhere. Come now, what do you say?"Adrian was talking to Crow in a low voice. He glanced up."Beg your pardon, Miss Chance, I didn't hear what you said;" then, dropping his voice,"It's not a bit of good shutting one's eyes to facts, Crow. I confess I don't understand this latest business--it sounds insane--but Pamela's hiding something up her sleeve; besides, I'll swear she never got little Ensor up the Beak by----""Oh, don't go on about that, Addie. I'm sick of the very name of that cliff. If the Ensors say she did, and Reuben declares she carried him--he told me so again when I went yesterday--it's idiotic to keep on nagging about it. Let's drop the Beak once for all, and as for this latest business, as you call it, I won't believe it. I refuse to believe it on the authority of Auntie A.; she's so--well--perhaps I'd better not say what I think."It was seldom that Crow was heard to speak thus savagely. She was quite unlike herself, just as Pamela appeared to be! But she was angry, chiefly with circumstances, and in any case nothing should induce her to believe such a thing about dear old Pam. It was outrageous. Pam, who was the soul of generosity and straightforwardness, to go to Miss Ashington and tell a lie to get hold of a valuable brooch! The thing was a glaring insult to her character and to the whole Romilly family. That was Crow's opinion.Hughie looked up at his eldest sister with approval. Christobel was so gentle that an attack from her was an event."What do you think, Hughie?" she asked."It's silly," was the brief answer, "and can I have some gooseberry pie, Crow?""What does it matter what Hughie thinks?" said Adrian, feeling a little injured.Hughie ate gooseberries and spoke not, but he wondered what they would say if they knew what he knew!However, matters got worse instead of better. Mrs. Romilly came back sooner than they expected; she had not had lunch at Crown Hill, she had declined it saying she must go home. However, she would not eat, but went off to the drawing-room with Crow and Adrian. Hughie took the opportunity to collect food for Pamela. Tartlets, cake, and a tempting little veal pie from the sideboard. Laden with this he retired upstairs and entered Pamela's room again with difficulty, putting the plate on the floor while he opened the door."There was mince, and gooseberry pie as well, Pam," he said, setting the plate down on the bed, "but I couldn't bring it, because it was loose, these things are hard--it's rather a comfort there was some hard stuff about--but, any way, Jeepy would give me some.""Jeepy" was Mrs. Jeep--cook, house-keeper, and adorer-in-chief amongst Hughie's train of admirers."That child's intelleck is beyond telling," was a favourite assertion of Mrs. Jeep's, and one with a good deal of truth in it.The servants had, of course, picked up the rumour of strange behaviour on the part of Miss Pamela, and Keziah, keeping Patty out of it, of course, with sharp injunctions about "little pitchers" and "long ears", had whispered to Mrs. Jeep that there certainly was something in it."Times and times," asserted Keziah, "I've seen her lately. Well, out of my window one night; she was going along the terrace, here near eleven and after. I must say it's not pretty behaviour. And I'm not the only one neither. When I went up to Badger's for eggs, he said to me: 'One of your young ladies seems to take her walks abroad.' 'Well, Mr. Badger,' I said, 'and why not? I suppose the country is made for walks. I'm walking myself,' I said, 'and so are you.' I said----" she stopped, breathless."Glad you was brief with him," said Mrs. Jeep in a slow comfortable voice, "I don't hold with such folks being so free with gentry's names. They ought to know better, but there's a many don't know their places these times. The mistress is put out though; upset she is, and I don't like to see it, for you never see no bad feeling nor goings on in this house--nice children they are, and have been from babies--the lot of them. Mr. Malcolm just such another as Master Hughie, very inventive in his ways, always some notion in his head."There was sympathy and curiosity too in the kitchen, though Patty Inglis the between-maid was allowed to ask no questions, and sharply reprimanded by Mrs. Jeep and Keziah for the least appearance of interest.Meanwhile Mrs. Romilly sat in her chair in the drawing-room resting her cheek on her hand. Christobel on a stool close by patted the other hand reassuringly. Adrian looked out of the window, for of all things he could least bear to see his mother unhappy."I see no way out of it," said Mrs. Romilly after relating Auntie A.'s story, "of course she was vague and wandering, and repeated herself as usual--that's nothing--the thing that matters is perfectly clear--Pamela went there about half-past nine--she had gone to her room we all know--she stayed only a few minutes and seemed in a hurry. She would have been in a hurry naturally. Miss Ashington said she seemed nervous and unlike herself, and her voice was husky, or low--well, not quite the same. That also we can account for easily enough, because Pam is by no means a practised deceiver----""I don't think it isprovedthat she is a deceiver at all, Mother, let alone practised!"So said Christobel in a low voice, unshaken by evidence."Dear old Crow," murmured Mrs. Romilly in rather a choked voice, "I like you to feel so; but, wellFarrsaw her too, and remarked how tall she was growing and how lovely her hair is--so it is, lovely." Mrs. Romilly gave a little cough, and hastily changed her position; then suddenly a tear fell with a tiny splash on the back of Christobel's stroking hand."Oh, Mummy!" she exclaimed."How silly of me, darling. I didn't mean to--but I don't understand, and I can't bear to be--well--outside with you children--we've always got on so well, and had no secrets. This----"There was a tense silence.Adrian, having spoken no word up till now, had been growing more and more angry with the world in general."It's a jolly old muddle," he declared suddenly. "Honestly, Mother, it's not reasonable to suppose Pamela would be such a silly ass as to march up to Crown Hill and publicly say you sent her for a diamond brooch, and then swear she hadn't been! I ask you now, is it feasible? It's sheer blazing idiocy.Ifshe did she's mad and ought to be put in an asylum. It isn't even criminal, it's drivelling. As for Auntie A.--nowsheis mad. Always has been. Well, I should say she'd dreamed the whole business if Farr was out of it. You say Farr saw Pamela; did Farr tell you, or did Auntie A. speak for Farr?""Oh, Miss Ashington told me what Farr remarked about Pam's----""Thereyou are then. Bet you the whole thing is some mad vision of Auntie A.'s! Sure of it. She was asleep on the verandah and when you asked for the brooch, having lost it, she says this----""But, darling boy, she wouldn't invent----""Not intentionally, Mother, but she's got a roving imagination, we see that every week. One time she's teaching pigs to kill themselves in order to save the butcher's feelings! Another time she wants to train calves to drive the sheep to market in order that land girls need never get up!Don'tbelieve her, Mother dear, and for any sake don't sorrow about her rotten fairy tales. They'll find that brooch in Charles' stomach when he dies of over-eating--if she hasn't been wearing it all the while herself. Oh, I say,dolet's shut up all this misery, Mum. An atmosphere of crime and sorrow is enough to make one ache to be back. Let's cut it out, and cease persecuting wretched Pamela, because Auntie A. is a lunatic."If it did nothing else, this speech made Mrs. Romilly "sit up and take notice", as her son said cheerfully a few minutes later. Presently she went upstairs; and fortified by a "nice cup o' tea" made and brought up, and administered by Mrs. Jeep herself, really did begin to think there might be something in what Adrian said."Men are very level-headed," thought Mrs. Romilly, "they are not so emotional and impressionable as we are; after all, of course, poor Auntie A. is very vague."Out of doors Crow and the level-headed one went down to the bay in company. Sisters are given to a certain clearness of vision not always vouchsafed to mothers. Said Christobel:"Addie--do youreallythink all that you said to Mother about Miss Ashington and Pam?""Of course I don't," promptly answered the shameless Adrian, "Miss Ashington is mad, right enough--raving--ought to be chained up before she drives all the farmers dotty, but she saw Pam right enough--so did Farr.""But, Addie----""Oh, I know--you're going to say one ought not to believe the evidence of one's own sight if it is against people you love. You must--till one's got something more reliable to see with than eyes. All the same life's not worth living if Mother is in a distraught condition--and nobody comes to meals except the Floweret trying to draw us all together by bonds of family love. If she's 'bright' again at tea-time I shall take the yawl to Salterne and stay there. If Pam has got the thing it's her look-out, she won't enjoy having it--as I said before, she's been awfully queer lately."In order to check another allusion to the Beak, Christobel suddenly proposed bathing from the yacht."Time for a heavenly one before tea," she suggested.Adrian forgot all the sorrows of the household in an instant and received the plan with a cheer; they two went with a rush, which carried them breathless and giggling on to the sands among the seaweedy rocks and the anemone-peopled pools. Here was Hughie--testing secretly a storm or wind anchor that he had invented. Adrian upset him into a sea pool--which Hughie did not mind, because it diverted attention from the wind anchor--then the two elders proceeded to haul the dinghy down and make preparations."Whole day since we came," remarked Adrian regretfully, "what waste!""She wants washing inside," commented Crow, rubbing certain dirt marks with her fingers. "Look, this isn't a tennis shoe--it's a heel!""I'd like to catch anybody messing about with her," said Adrian wrathfully, then Christobel suggested it might be the Floweret."She sits in the dinghy with a book sometimes you know, Addie, when the rocks are extra wet. I don't know why; probably it makes her feel adventurous and buccaneering."They got the little boat down, and rowed off into the bay--lovely it was, warm and smooth, with a faint swell coming in from outside, the swell that causes a rushing ripple to rise over the hard ridged sand, filling the tiny rock ponds and making the littlest crabs wave their legs about and scamper for the shelter of miniature weed forests. It was a divine day, and a divine scene; brother and sister felt it and cast off the dreariness that had clouded the morning.They reached the yawl in an utterly joyous frame of mind, and whirled on board anyhow. Then Adrian said in rather a startled voice:"Hullo, Crow, didn't we leave that door open? Surely, surely we did, because we both said it was whiffy inside--who shut it then?""Wind, of course," said Crow indifferently."My good girl----""Oh don't, Addie--hurry up--get into the fore-cabin or where you like, but hurry, or we shan't have half a swim. I won't say 'time flies', because it's too copy-book--but I'll remind you that tea is half-past four. Get on."So saying, Christobel took possession of the saloon--"according to plan", as we used to hear in the days of the War, and Adrian disappeared down the fore-hatch. This was the standing arrangement for bathing--as the whole party of Romilly boys and girls could swim like ducks; they learned when babies almost--it was family law.Christobel did not take long to get ready as a rule, but she took longer than she meant because several small matters seemed to her to be differently placed, or untidy. As everyone knows who inhabits a yacht of say six to eight tons, there must be a place for everything, and everything in that place. It had always been so on theMessenger. Every shining hook had its cup, or jug. Every plate or saucer fitted into its own groove. Kitchen things--polished like looking-glasses--were placed along barred shelves, and kettles sat in wells made to fit them.To-day something was a little wrong. Crow frowned at the hooks and racks, as she pinned her hair up under a rubber cap--this and that seemed to have changed places--or she thought so. The cushions on the settees in the saloon were certainly wrong--all on one side. Adrian must have been right about the door; that was perhaps part of the invasion. She thought of calling out to her brother and then decided not to, because if she said anything Addie would make a point of locking up the yawl every night, and the result would be that peculiar something in the stuffiness that always made her feel sick.Christobel was not a perfect sailor like Adrian and Hughie--neither of them could be swept off their balance, but Christobel could. So much so, that she had at times borne agonies in silence rather than spoil Adrian's day. She was seldom actually sick, but she felt a horrible nausea and faintness, and the one thing that would precipitate this condition was that mixture of paraffin, varnish, cushion stuffing, and station-waiting-room-stale-sandwich smell, that came up from the saloon when the closed doors were opened; for once locked up there could be no ventilation naturally--without water getting in also; not in so small a boat, for the fore-hatch must be battened down and bolted inside before the companion door was locked outside.All this occurred to Crow in time to stop her making remarks on her suspicions. After all, she could not remember who came out of the cabin last. Again Penberthy might have gone on board--he might even have taken Major Fraser with him, which would account for the gravel and dirt marks on the dinghy.Just as she came to this conclusion she heard Adrian's dive and a few seconds after his shout for her, so she ran up, and went over the side with the clean sweep of a first-rate swimmer. That was the end of questionings--for the time.
CHAPTER XIII
Double "A" and a Diamond Crown
In a day or two Pamela had recovered from those pricking fears. After all, there was nothing to worry about. The Countess would not worry her any more, because she had been firm. "The great thing is," thought Pam, "to be firm. To let people really see that you mean what you say, then they won't 'try it on'." She felt that the Countess had been inclined to "try it on". There was no doubt about that. Now it was ended, and no one a penny the worse. Who she was, or what she did at Woodrising must remain a mystery, for the present anyway. It was tantalizing, but, as the girl had offered no explanation herself, Pamela felt it would be impossible to pry or ask servants, even if they would answer. She was sorry about the brooch, sorry for the loneliness of this strange young person; all the same, she felt instinctively that the Countess could very well take care of herself.
The sun shone, the wind blew, not too hard. Pamela, with something of thankfulness, threw herself into the boating plans, and went out fishing for whiting, which the family ate joyfully.
Three or four days of peace went by, and then a positive bomb of annoyance fell into her pleasure, scattering destruction on all sides.
Adrian put off things often. He forgot, or seemed to for the moment, but never for good. There was a strong underlying tenacity in his nature; he always did--ultimately--what he said he would do. Therefore, after apparently forgetting what he had said about inspecting the Beak cliff, he went off one day before breakfast--after an early bathe--and went down over the ground that had been so much discussed.
The result was startling.
When Pamela came down to breakfast that morning she found everybody absorbed in the examination of some small thing Mrs. Romilly was holding. She, sitting in her place behind the urn, was turning this article in her hands, and Adrian, who had given it to her, was leaning over the back of her chair, Crow stooping over the tea-cups, Hughie enjoying a good view under people's arms, and Miss Chance pretending to see for fear of giving trouble.
Christobel looked up as Pamela entered.
"Oh, Pam--Addie has been on the Beak, and he has found the most adorable brooch--I wish to goodness Mum would feel we might keep it!"
"Why not? findings--keepings," said Adrian. "I present it to Mother. It's a ripper."
"Thank you, darling--but it wouldn't be possible to keep it." Mrs. Romilly held up the small object for Pamela to see.
Before she looked, she guessed, then taking it in her hand saw the guess was correct.
A gold safety pin about an inch and a half long, attached to it, the loveliest decoration, a double "A", that is two capital A's entwined, and above them a tiny coronet, the whole made in diamonds. It was stained with earth and damp when brought in, and Mrs. Romilly, putting it into a cup, washed it with hot water and rubbed it on her soft handkerchief. It was lovely, and obviously very valuable.
Pamela gazed at it speechless, turning it over in her hands, trying to think--but feeling too startled.
"Jolly lucky, wasn't I, Pam?" Adrian bent over and took the jewel from her.
"On the Beak?" questioned Pamela uncertainly.
"Yes. Just the place where you hauled up little Ensor. I 'reconstructed the crime', as the French Police do; result of reconstruction, can't think how you managed to do it! I couldn't. Found it took all the running I could do to keep in the same place, so to speak. Stiffish climb with no encumbrances. Just in a tuft of grass I found this thing stuck; it looked as though someone had dropped it and then trodden on it, squeezing it down fairly firm, but not burying it."
"How funny!" commented Pamela weakly. She felt it was weak, and that made her turn pink. Then, knowing she had turned pink, nervousness seized her and she became very white.
Christobel was looking at her, wondering, surprise visible in her honest eyes.
"I want Mum to keep it," said Adrian, "why shouldn't she? It's a mystery how it got there. It may have been stuck in that tuft for years. The person who owned it may be dead."
"Oh no, we must hand it over to the Police," said Mrs. Romilly. There was a general cry of "oh Mother!" as she took the brooch back again into her hand, and examined h even more critically. In that moment a thought struck her, and she looked up at her eager family.
"Crow dear--why shouldn't it be Auntie A's? Why, of course, my dear children--why not? Consider the letters, 'A' and 'A' entwined--it no doubt stands for Adelaide Ashington. After all, it is rather rare to have two 'A's' for your initials."
"But, Mummy, the crown----" suggested Crow.
"Coronet? Why not? Miss Ashington and Lady Shard are daughters of Lord Stilborough. They might have a coronet in a jewel, I daresay--just for ornament. Crow, isn't Lady Shard's name 'Amelia'?"
Christobel said it was, also suggested that Mollie's name was Amelia Mary.
"Oh well, then," went on Mrs. Romilly, "I'm afraid, Addie dear, there isn't much mystery.
"But look here, Mother," Adrian interrupted eagerly, for he disapproved strongly of this explanation, "I say--you're not going to make me believe that either Lady Shard or Auntie A. wandered about the Beak cliff!"
"Oh no, not they, of course. But don't you see, Addie, the thing might have been dropped and picked up by someone who wasn't honest. It may even have been stolen. You know how utterly vague they both are, dear souls, they'll forget and never miss it. Then the person who had it might have gone on the cliff front--some servant--man-servant from London, say--chauffeurs, anybody--I propose that someone goes up to Crown Hill and hands it over to Auntie A. It is most certainly theirs."
"Once it gets into Miss Ashington's hands no one will see it again," said Pamela desperately.
"That sounds rather an awkward remark," commented Adrian, as they all took their places round the table.
"I don't mean she'll steal it," explained Pam, very hot and worried, "but what's the good of talking; everybody knows her. Whether it is hers or not she'll forget Mother has sent it to her, and things will drift vaguely."
"What would you do then?" asked Crow.
"Oh, give it to the Police, and tell them to advertise it. Then the real owner will claim it."
So said Pamela in the despairing hope of giving a chance to the Countess, who would claim, of course, through Sir Marmaduke, if she did not wish to appear in the matter.
Adrian agreed with her, quite unexpectedly, for which she felt grateful.
"There's a lot of sense in Pam's notion, Mother," he said, "Auntie A. is no more and no less than the White Queen inAlice Through the Looking-glass--with just as much sense. She's an old dear, we all know--but she'll give the thing to Charles to eat as soon as not; or hand it to a beggar in mistake for sixpence! She doesn't know the difference between her own hat and a church hassock."
"Darling," expostulated Mrs. Romilly, "is it as bad as that?"
"Well, Mum--you know Auntie A. I vote for the Police Station at Ramsworthy. Let me take it there."
"I think we ought to try Crown Hill first," said his mother, quietly persistent, as always, now the idea had once lodged in her brain. "Who'll go?"
A wild impulse rushed into Pamela's brain. Should she offer to take it, and return it to its rightful owner, trusting to the fact that Miss Ashington would never remember whether she had received it or not? But the thought occurred only to be rejected. It wouldn't do at all. It would be horrid, and after all, suppose the brooch was given to Auntie A., all she had to do was to tell the Countess, who could write to Sir Marmaduke Shard and explain that the strange jewel was hers. That was simple enough.
When the party dispersed after breakfast Pamela felt better. The path seemed less encumbered. She decided to write to the Countess and to take the letter herself and leave it at the gate. Miss Chance and Hughie conveyed the precious parcel to Crown Hill with a letter from Mrs. Romilly, and the other two went off to the bay to overhaulMessengerfor a grand clean up and polish.
After several attempts Pamela wrote a note that satisfied her.
"Your safety pin brooch has been found on the Beak cliff and sent to Miss Adelaide Ashington at Crown Hill. Because the initials are 'A.A.' my mother thinks it must be hers or Lady Shard's. If you apply to them, no doubt you can get it back.--P".
Having read this once or twice and finding it met the case, Pamela folded the note neatly, sealed it with her own little silver seal, and went out. She did not go straight up the road to Woodrising, but across the valley, round through Crown Hill park, into the woods at the inland end, and down the hill from the station.
Finding the road clear she rang the gate bell with vigour, handed the message to Mrs. Trewby, with the sentence, "no answer, say, please," and departed--not down the road past Fuchsia Cottage, but back up towards Folly Ho, and over the hill behind on to the Bell Ridge above the church, and so home, down the steep to the Bell House--in time for lunch. The only person she met was Mr. John Badger of Champles, a large and heavy man with the smallest possible twinkling eyes. There was no harm in Mr. Badger--no harm at all, he was a kind man, but he had one weakness and that was gossip. The largeness of his body was the very opposite extreme to the size of his mind--which could not well have been smaller. He was driving sheep from one fenced bit of his fields to another--there was not much for them to eat on the Bell Ridge Downs and they had to be kept to measured allowances or they would have wandered away to look for something better.
"All alone, missie?" said Mr. Badger in friendly spirit.
"I like walking alone," answered Pamela.
"Well, well, no harm can't come to you these parts. No tramps don't come up along these ways. You don't see no strangers about--can't call Mrs. Chipman to Woodrising a stranger, same as she lived down along Crown Hill some fifteen years."
"Oh," murmured Pamela, which was hardly a remark at all, but she felt as though her mind had best remain a blank to all these questions. As for discussing them, she did not wish to think about them, even.
"What a lovely view there is from here, Mr. Badger!" she rushed into generalities, "don't you wonder if sheep see anything? Can they enjoy a view, or do they see nothing at all?"
Mr. Badger opined that all the sheep cared about was a "belly-full", which was no doubt very true.
Pamela left him gazing after her, and wondering why she had come up there all alone. Mr. Badger saw mysteries and scandals in every movement of his neighbours, which made life very interesting for him.
Pamela could see "plumb down" into Bell Bay as she went lower and lower on a slope that rivalled the Beak, but was better holding-ground because of ferns and stubby gorse. It seemed as though you could take a flying jump on to the roof of the Bell House, among the twisted chimneys. She could see theMessengerat her moorings, looking like the loveliest toy--white deck, white hull, and gold line glittering in the sunshine. She saw the dinghy put off from her and come ashore--infinitely tiny, with wee figures rowing, dressed in white, Addie and Crow. She heartily wished that brooch had never been found; or if it was to be found, that it might have been her fate to find it. It was bad luck Adrian coming into the muddle. However, the Countess had only to write to Sir Marmaduke and he could claim the jewel from Auntie A. and settle the whole affair within three days. It was no use bothering about it any longer.
In this mood Pamela arrived at home, looking lovely and happy, only to be at once reminded of the business again by Miss Chance's report.
She and Hughie came across the lawn with the others, and the first thing Pam heard was Adrian's eager information to his mother, who was sitting on the terrace outside the drawing-room windows.
"Mother, the Floweret says Auntie A. swears it isn't hers. She'll have to give it up."
"But is it Lady Shard's?" asked Mrs. Romilly.
"Miss Ashington appeared uncertain as to that--indeed she was a little confused----"
"She always is," Adrian interrupted.
"Hush, Addie; let Miss Chance tell me what was said."
"It really was not easy to gather her opinion, dear Mrs. Romilly, because it seemed that Miss Ashington had been administering a decoction of herbs--I think on Adrian's advice--to the spaniel. She was anxious and perturbed as she thought the poor dog was suffering."
"Oh, laurel water! My only aunt, what a priceless situation!" murmured Adrian, and collapsed on the grass.
"Ihopehe won't die," said Crow, anxiously.
"What did Addie advise?" inquired her mother.
Christobel was careful.
"Mummy, she told us she was going to make tea out of sage or--I don't know--some filth she'd heard or read about it. I expect she's given Charles a dose; I don't wonder he's in pain. But, Miss Chance, did she say anything about Lady Shard and the brooch? That is the thing that matters."
"I understood her to say that she would inquire, but her conversation was disconnected."
"You bet it was," said Adrian from his seat on the edge of the terrace.
"We must leave it for the present. There's the lunch bell--hurry, everybody," advised Mrs. Romilly, getting up and passing an arm through Christobel's.
"Mother, I wish we'd never sent it to Crown Hill," said Crow, as they went in at the big window. "Will you promise to ask about its fate? Don't let's lose it. After all, Addie found it, and failing an owner he ought to have it."
Mrs. Romilly promised to ask after a decent interval, and the matter dropped for the moment.
Nothing more happened about it except that, missing Hughie, Pamela sought him in "the cave" later on, where he was absorbed in making a doll's ulster out of a bit of checked fluffy material that had been given to Hennery Doe to make strips of, wherewith to fasten down the arms of plum trees on the north wall. Hughie, seeing infinite possibilities in the bit of stuff, had calmly annexed it, and it was now taking shape, the "arm-sleeves" proving a tough problem, owing to the thickness of the stuff and the smallness of the doll.
"Well," said the workman, when Pam looked over the barrier.
"There's a new bother, Midget."
"I know. I saw your face. Is it about that girl?"
Pamela explained about the brooch; telling the story of it.
"It's rather tiresome," allowed Hughie, turning the coat inside out.
"I wonder what she'll do?" Pam's tone was worried.
"She might go and ask for it."
"She couldn't ask Miss Ashington, she doesn't know her," said Pamela quickly.
"She's the kind of person who might do things you didn't think about. I don't care for that sort of girl." Hughie spoke as one with life-long experience. "You'd better look out, Pam."
"How can I look out?" retorted Pamela almost irritably. She was never cross with Hughie.
"Well," said the Midget, recognizing that she had much excuse, "we may as well both look out, for I'm pretty sure she's rather a tiresome person."
That was all the comfort Pamela received, but poor as it was, in a way it did comfort her; there was something so imperturbable about Hughie, it made her feel less inclined to exaggerate.
Evening fell, rather dark, because the moon rose late. Miss Adelaide Ashington sat outside in the broad tessellated piazza, that ran along the south-west front of Crown Hill house. It was a handsome house; white, in the Italian style; the gardens were beautiful when in good order. Auntie A. had her breakfast outside as a rule, often her tea--but not dinner, because lights being necessary--for eating at any rate, when your dinner-hour is late--she was afraid moths and other creatures would fly into the lamps. So she sat out after dinner, in the growing shadows, sipped coffee, and comforted Charles, who was recovering from internal disorder.
A tall slim figure came towards her from the gardens, walking with easy assurance among the shadowy flowerbeds. Charles heaved himself up on his cushion, and barked weightily in a strangled manner. Miss Ashington, looking about for the cause, said:
"Well--well--well--it's only our dear Pamela--what a fuss--what a fuss."
Charles choked in his endeavours to express disapproval, and "our dear Pamela" came up to the piazza and greeted his mistress.
She said it was a lovely evening, but her feet were wet with the dew; she leaned against a pillar, and, turning up one slim foot, looked at the sole of her shoe. Miss Ashington looked at it also, in a vague kind of manner--she could not see, but she was disturbed to know it was wet.
"Surely it is late for you to be out, dear child," said Auntie A., "hush, Charles, be quiet, you know very well who it is--now let me call Dickens and she will find you dry shoes--what about Mollie's--I really cannot allow----"
"But I must go back at once," said the girl, "please do not call anyone," as Miss Ashington hunted on her table for the brass hand-bell that was supposed to be at her elbow, but was always underneath other things, "please do not. I came from my mother to say, may she have the safety-pin brooch with the diamond crown that Adrian found on the cliff--that she sent to you--because the owner is found."
"Ah, the brooch with A initials--yes--yes--yes--nowwhere," murmured Auntie A. "I think I had better ring for Dickens----" she hunted for the bell and the table fell over.
Charles coughed himself into convulsions.
"Dear, dear--if you can find the bell--please ring it, dear child."
"Dear child" was on her knee hunting, with the bell safely covered by her skirt. She was searching among the overturned articles with the desperate hope of finding what she came for, instinct suggesting that it might easily be actually on the table.
It was. That is to say, it had been put into Miss Ashington's wicker work-basket, which, having fallen over also, upside down, had emptied its contents on the tiled floor. The brass bell clattered, the reels of cotton spun about driving Charles into delirium, but the searcher cared for none of these things, for she had seen the sudden glint of the diamonds in a ray of light that the drawing-room lamps threw out across the pavement.
"Here it is," she said, with a ring of joy in her voice, "let me make this right."
She set the table up, bundled the obvious contents of the work-basket back into place, seized the papers, books, wool, finally the bell--and put them on the table--in doing so she rang the bell, and on the instant was upon her feet, straightening her shady hat.
"Thank you, thank you, Miss Ashington--and I must now go--my shoes are so wet. You will forgive me that I go at once."
A maid appeared, coming out of the window in answer to the bell summons.
As Miss Ashington looked round to speak to her, Pamela melted into the shadows like a wraith.
"Is that you, Farr?" Auntie A. was rather flustered. "We had an accident. No, I didn't ring--not intentionally--the table fell over. Take care you don't slip on a reel, they are so treacherous and the pavement is very---- Oh,poorlittle Charles, he was so upset and quite resented a visitor at this time of night!"
"You must have been surprised yourself, ma'am," said Farr, making conversation as she chased reels, thimbles, and mysterious little bundles that were perfectly useless.
"Miss Pamela came for the diamond brooch--I think I told you that Mrs. Romilly sent it to me believing it to be mine because of the initial. Mr. Adrian discovered it--on the cliff--at least I fancy that was what--thank you, Farr---- You see my poor Charles was so ill this morning, that--however, I'd quite forgotten where I put it, but it fell out of the work-basket when---- Of course a summer night is not like any other time of year, but I could not help feeling that Miss Pamela should have had an escort."
"I saw Miss Romilly from the window, ma'am," said Farr, picking up the coffee tray from its special stool, "tall young lady she's growing; very stylish too; 'er 'air is beautiful."
"So it is--so it is--lovely hair. I'm very fond of that child. I hope she has not caught cold. I fancied she was a little hoarse to-night, quite likely if she runs about like this in such a heavy dew. I think I'll come in now, Farr, if you will kindly carry Charles' basket."
CHAPTER XIV
"If anybody dies, it'll be her,"said Hughie
It must have been about a week after that when Hughie, passing by Pamela's door with a view to making himself tidy for lunch, heard a sound of stifled sobbing. He stood still, quite shocked. Here was an unprecedented state of things, and one outside his experience, because Pam was a cheerful interested person, always busy, never morbid. It was horrible.
Hughie had been in "the cave" since breakfast and was on his way to his room rather "delicately" like King Agag, because he knew his mother would wish him to be out of doors, and he had shirked the boat and the bay to finish some particular job of his own devising. Meanwhile something had been happening, obviously. But what?
He opened the door which was not locked, and put his head into the room. Pamela was lying on her bed face downwards, crying bitterly.
Hughie shut the door, then he walked close up to the bed, and very very gently pulled the heavy plait of hair that fell across her shoulders and on to the counterpane. Immediately there was a change in the tone of the sobs. A choke--then silence--then a faint cough, then a sigh--Pamela changed her position a little, and felt for a lost handkerchief. Hughie, noting the missing article on the pillow, put it into her hand. A minute after that she raised herself into a sitting posture, and looked at him; her pretty eyes were heavy and swelled, and her lips trembled.
"Pam," said Hughie, cut to the heart yet reserved, "I expect it's that woman?"
Pamela nodded and blew her nose.
"Well, what's she been doing now?" To show that he was come to stop, Hughie dropped noiselessly to the floor and sat cross-legged, clasping an ankle in either hand.
Pamela cleared her throat and said in a tone that tried hard to be indifferent and casual.
"Mother thinks--I've stolen that brooch--and told a lie--because----" stifled silence ensued.
"Well," said Hughie, "that's very ridiculous."
"Not when you hear--what it's about----" again there was a pause, then starting on a lower note altogether Pamela said:
"Mother wanted to hear about the brooch, Addie made her. So, after a week, you see, she wrote to Miss Ashington and asked what had happened and if it was hers--I mean if the brooch was. This morning Auntie A. sent down a note--all scrawly and covered with blots and half the words left out as usual," this description was emphasized bitterly, "and she said--she said that I fetched the brooch on the same evening you and Miss Chance took it--you remember, Midget, a week ago to-day."
"I know," agreed Hughie, "the morning Charles ate the laurel water."
"Yes, well she says,Icame in the evening about nine, or half-past nine, and said Mother sent me for the brooch, and she gave it to me--she says a good deal more; something about her work-basket being upset; but anywayItook the brooch away, and there's an end to it."
"Why, it was the girl--my goodness, she's a funny person!" said Hughie.
"She's a beast. She's a perfect beast without any decency or sense of honour," declared Pamela in a stormy burst of indignation. "I told her to write to Sir Marmaduke and ask him to claim it from Auntie A. It was perfectly simple. Then she goes and plays this low trick again."
"You'd better tell about her," suggested Hughie with interest.
"I said I wouldn't. She said it would get her into awful trouble."
"Well, she gets you into trouble."
"I know, but, Midget, she's all alone--her mother seems to be dead; her father was killed in the War. Fancy being shut up with Chipman and no one decent to speak to! You see, I don'tblameher for trying to get her brooch back--she might do that----"
"It was rather clever," Hughie chuckled suddenly, "a sort of short cut, Pam."
"I daresay, but people oughtn't to use short cuts that hurt other people so awfully."
"She's selfish," said Hughie gravely, "fearfullyselfish, she doesn't care when the others get hurt."
There was a long pause; then Pamela announced that she wasn't coming down to dinner; she told him that Mrs. Romilly had gone off to Crown Hill to see Miss Ashington.
"What did Mum say to you?" asked Hughie.
"Nothing. Not a word--she gave me the letter to read."
"What did you say?"
"I was feeling so sick and awful, I don't know what I said--except that I didn't go at all. It sounded so helpless in the face of that letter."
"I think I'll go to dinner," announced Hughie suddenly, and he picked himself up, dusting himself in an incomplete manner.
"You can have my brush and comb, Midget, if you like," suggested Pamela, lying down again in a languid manner. "Oh dear, I wish I was dead. People say when there are two of a person one always dies. I hope it'll be me."
This was very gloomy. Hughie gazed at her from under his brows as he brushed his hair. Then he looked at his hands, appeared satisfied that their condition would pass the eagle-eyed inspection of the Floweret, and walked to the door. From there he said:
"If anybody dies it'll be her," and went, closing the door quietly behind him. Pamela felt comforted.
Dinner was proceeding in the dining-room, in a horribly uncomfortable manner, because the three persons present all knew of this amazing state of things, and not one knew what to say. Hughie slid into his chair and was helped to mince without comment. Miss Chance was doing her best to keep up a pretence that nothing was the matter, and welcomed her youngest pupil as an ally, but Hughie was glum.
"Now," said the Floweret hopefully, "dolet us settle about a picnic. I am sure Hughie will side with me. Adrian, what about an alliance between boats and pedestrians--to Ramsworthy Cove, for instance--or farther; the sands at Netheroot looked so inviting when we passed the other day, I always contend there are no such sands anywhere. Come now, what do you say?"
Adrian was talking to Crow in a low voice. He glanced up.
"Beg your pardon, Miss Chance, I didn't hear what you said;" then, dropping his voice,
"It's not a bit of good shutting one's eyes to facts, Crow. I confess I don't understand this latest business--it sounds insane--but Pamela's hiding something up her sleeve; besides, I'll swear she never got little Ensor up the Beak by----"
"Oh, don't go on about that, Addie. I'm sick of the very name of that cliff. If the Ensors say she did, and Reuben declares she carried him--he told me so again when I went yesterday--it's idiotic to keep on nagging about it. Let's drop the Beak once for all, and as for this latest business, as you call it, I won't believe it. I refuse to believe it on the authority of Auntie A.; she's so--well--perhaps I'd better not say what I think."
It was seldom that Crow was heard to speak thus savagely. She was quite unlike herself, just as Pamela appeared to be! But she was angry, chiefly with circumstances, and in any case nothing should induce her to believe such a thing about dear old Pam. It was outrageous. Pam, who was the soul of generosity and straightforwardness, to go to Miss Ashington and tell a lie to get hold of a valuable brooch! The thing was a glaring insult to her character and to the whole Romilly family. That was Crow's opinion.
Hughie looked up at his eldest sister with approval. Christobel was so gentle that an attack from her was an event.
"What do you think, Hughie?" she asked.
"It's silly," was the brief answer, "and can I have some gooseberry pie, Crow?"
"What does it matter what Hughie thinks?" said Adrian, feeling a little injured.
Hughie ate gooseberries and spoke not, but he wondered what they would say if they knew what he knew!
However, matters got worse instead of better. Mrs. Romilly came back sooner than they expected; she had not had lunch at Crown Hill, she had declined it saying she must go home. However, she would not eat, but went off to the drawing-room with Crow and Adrian. Hughie took the opportunity to collect food for Pamela. Tartlets, cake, and a tempting little veal pie from the sideboard. Laden with this he retired upstairs and entered Pamela's room again with difficulty, putting the plate on the floor while he opened the door.
"There was mince, and gooseberry pie as well, Pam," he said, setting the plate down on the bed, "but I couldn't bring it, because it was loose, these things are hard--it's rather a comfort there was some hard stuff about--but, any way, Jeepy would give me some."
"Jeepy" was Mrs. Jeep--cook, house-keeper, and adorer-in-chief amongst Hughie's train of admirers.
"That child's intelleck is beyond telling," was a favourite assertion of Mrs. Jeep's, and one with a good deal of truth in it.
The servants had, of course, picked up the rumour of strange behaviour on the part of Miss Pamela, and Keziah, keeping Patty out of it, of course, with sharp injunctions about "little pitchers" and "long ears", had whispered to Mrs. Jeep that there certainly was something in it.
"Times and times," asserted Keziah, "I've seen her lately. Well, out of my window one night; she was going along the terrace, here near eleven and after. I must say it's not pretty behaviour. And I'm not the only one neither. When I went up to Badger's for eggs, he said to me: 'One of your young ladies seems to take her walks abroad.' 'Well, Mr. Badger,' I said, 'and why not? I suppose the country is made for walks. I'm walking myself,' I said, 'and so are you.' I said----" she stopped, breathless.
"Glad you was brief with him," said Mrs. Jeep in a slow comfortable voice, "I don't hold with such folks being so free with gentry's names. They ought to know better, but there's a many don't know their places these times. The mistress is put out though; upset she is, and I don't like to see it, for you never see no bad feeling nor goings on in this house--nice children they are, and have been from babies--the lot of them. Mr. Malcolm just such another as Master Hughie, very inventive in his ways, always some notion in his head."
There was sympathy and curiosity too in the kitchen, though Patty Inglis the between-maid was allowed to ask no questions, and sharply reprimanded by Mrs. Jeep and Keziah for the least appearance of interest.
Meanwhile Mrs. Romilly sat in her chair in the drawing-room resting her cheek on her hand. Christobel on a stool close by patted the other hand reassuringly. Adrian looked out of the window, for of all things he could least bear to see his mother unhappy.
"I see no way out of it," said Mrs. Romilly after relating Auntie A.'s story, "of course she was vague and wandering, and repeated herself as usual--that's nothing--the thing that matters is perfectly clear--Pamela went there about half-past nine--she had gone to her room we all know--she stayed only a few minutes and seemed in a hurry. She would have been in a hurry naturally. Miss Ashington said she seemed nervous and unlike herself, and her voice was husky, or low--well, not quite the same. That also we can account for easily enough, because Pam is by no means a practised deceiver----"
"I don't think it isprovedthat she is a deceiver at all, Mother, let alone practised!"
So said Christobel in a low voice, unshaken by evidence.
"Dear old Crow," murmured Mrs. Romilly in rather a choked voice, "I like you to feel so; but, wellFarrsaw her too, and remarked how tall she was growing and how lovely her hair is--so it is, lovely." Mrs. Romilly gave a little cough, and hastily changed her position; then suddenly a tear fell with a tiny splash on the back of Christobel's stroking hand.
"Oh, Mummy!" she exclaimed.
"How silly of me, darling. I didn't mean to--but I don't understand, and I can't bear to be--well--outside with you children--we've always got on so well, and had no secrets. This----"
There was a tense silence.
Adrian, having spoken no word up till now, had been growing more and more angry with the world in general.
"It's a jolly old muddle," he declared suddenly. "Honestly, Mother, it's not reasonable to suppose Pamela would be such a silly ass as to march up to Crown Hill and publicly say you sent her for a diamond brooch, and then swear she hadn't been! I ask you now, is it feasible? It's sheer blazing idiocy.Ifshe did she's mad and ought to be put in an asylum. It isn't even criminal, it's drivelling. As for Auntie A.--nowsheis mad. Always has been. Well, I should say she'd dreamed the whole business if Farr was out of it. You say Farr saw Pamela; did Farr tell you, or did Auntie A. speak for Farr?"
"Oh, Miss Ashington told me what Farr remarked about Pam's----"
"Thereyou are then. Bet you the whole thing is some mad vision of Auntie A.'s! Sure of it. She was asleep on the verandah and when you asked for the brooch, having lost it, she says this----"
"But, darling boy, she wouldn't invent----"
"Not intentionally, Mother, but she's got a roving imagination, we see that every week. One time she's teaching pigs to kill themselves in order to save the butcher's feelings! Another time she wants to train calves to drive the sheep to market in order that land girls need never get up!Don'tbelieve her, Mother dear, and for any sake don't sorrow about her rotten fairy tales. They'll find that brooch in Charles' stomach when he dies of over-eating--if she hasn't been wearing it all the while herself. Oh, I say,dolet's shut up all this misery, Mum. An atmosphere of crime and sorrow is enough to make one ache to be back. Let's cut it out, and cease persecuting wretched Pamela, because Auntie A. is a lunatic."
If it did nothing else, this speech made Mrs. Romilly "sit up and take notice", as her son said cheerfully a few minutes later. Presently she went upstairs; and fortified by a "nice cup o' tea" made and brought up, and administered by Mrs. Jeep herself, really did begin to think there might be something in what Adrian said.
"Men are very level-headed," thought Mrs. Romilly, "they are not so emotional and impressionable as we are; after all, of course, poor Auntie A. is very vague."
Out of doors Crow and the level-headed one went down to the bay in company. Sisters are given to a certain clearness of vision not always vouchsafed to mothers. Said Christobel:
"Addie--do youreallythink all that you said to Mother about Miss Ashington and Pam?"
"Of course I don't," promptly answered the shameless Adrian, "Miss Ashington is mad, right enough--raving--ought to be chained up before she drives all the farmers dotty, but she saw Pam right enough--so did Farr."
"But, Addie----"
"Oh, I know--you're going to say one ought not to believe the evidence of one's own sight if it is against people you love. You must--till one's got something more reliable to see with than eyes. All the same life's not worth living if Mother is in a distraught condition--and nobody comes to meals except the Floweret trying to draw us all together by bonds of family love. If she's 'bright' again at tea-time I shall take the yawl to Salterne and stay there. If Pam has got the thing it's her look-out, she won't enjoy having it--as I said before, she's been awfully queer lately."
In order to check another allusion to the Beak, Christobel suddenly proposed bathing from the yacht.
"Time for a heavenly one before tea," she suggested.
Adrian forgot all the sorrows of the household in an instant and received the plan with a cheer; they two went with a rush, which carried them breathless and giggling on to the sands among the seaweedy rocks and the anemone-peopled pools. Here was Hughie--testing secretly a storm or wind anchor that he had invented. Adrian upset him into a sea pool--which Hughie did not mind, because it diverted attention from the wind anchor--then the two elders proceeded to haul the dinghy down and make preparations.
"Whole day since we came," remarked Adrian regretfully, "what waste!"
"She wants washing inside," commented Crow, rubbing certain dirt marks with her fingers. "Look, this isn't a tennis shoe--it's a heel!"
"I'd like to catch anybody messing about with her," said Adrian wrathfully, then Christobel suggested it might be the Floweret.
"She sits in the dinghy with a book sometimes you know, Addie, when the rocks are extra wet. I don't know why; probably it makes her feel adventurous and buccaneering."
They got the little boat down, and rowed off into the bay--lovely it was, warm and smooth, with a faint swell coming in from outside, the swell that causes a rushing ripple to rise over the hard ridged sand, filling the tiny rock ponds and making the littlest crabs wave their legs about and scamper for the shelter of miniature weed forests. It was a divine day, and a divine scene; brother and sister felt it and cast off the dreariness that had clouded the morning.
They reached the yawl in an utterly joyous frame of mind, and whirled on board anyhow. Then Adrian said in rather a startled voice:
"Hullo, Crow, didn't we leave that door open? Surely, surely we did, because we both said it was whiffy inside--who shut it then?"
"Wind, of course," said Crow indifferently.
"My good girl----"
"Oh don't, Addie--hurry up--get into the fore-cabin or where you like, but hurry, or we shan't have half a swim. I won't say 'time flies', because it's too copy-book--but I'll remind you that tea is half-past four. Get on."
So saying, Christobel took possession of the saloon--"according to plan", as we used to hear in the days of the War, and Adrian disappeared down the fore-hatch. This was the standing arrangement for bathing--as the whole party of Romilly boys and girls could swim like ducks; they learned when babies almost--it was family law.
Christobel did not take long to get ready as a rule, but she took longer than she meant because several small matters seemed to her to be differently placed, or untidy. As everyone knows who inhabits a yacht of say six to eight tons, there must be a place for everything, and everything in that place. It had always been so on theMessenger. Every shining hook had its cup, or jug. Every plate or saucer fitted into its own groove. Kitchen things--polished like looking-glasses--were placed along barred shelves, and kettles sat in wells made to fit them.
To-day something was a little wrong. Crow frowned at the hooks and racks, as she pinned her hair up under a rubber cap--this and that seemed to have changed places--or she thought so. The cushions on the settees in the saloon were certainly wrong--all on one side. Adrian must have been right about the door; that was perhaps part of the invasion. She thought of calling out to her brother and then decided not to, because if she said anything Addie would make a point of locking up the yawl every night, and the result would be that peculiar something in the stuffiness that always made her feel sick.
Christobel was not a perfect sailor like Adrian and Hughie--neither of them could be swept off their balance, but Christobel could. So much so, that she had at times borne agonies in silence rather than spoil Adrian's day. She was seldom actually sick, but she felt a horrible nausea and faintness, and the one thing that would precipitate this condition was that mixture of paraffin, varnish, cushion stuffing, and station-waiting-room-stale-sandwich smell, that came up from the saloon when the closed doors were opened; for once locked up there could be no ventilation naturally--without water getting in also; not in so small a boat, for the fore-hatch must be battened down and bolted inside before the companion door was locked outside.
All this occurred to Crow in time to stop her making remarks on her suspicions. After all, she could not remember who came out of the cabin last. Again Penberthy might have gone on board--he might even have taken Major Fraser with him, which would account for the gravel and dirt marks on the dinghy.
Just as she came to this conclusion she heard Adrian's dive and a few seconds after his shout for her, so she ran up, and went over the side with the clean sweep of a first-rate swimmer. That was the end of questionings--for the time.