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 is _proved_ that 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, well _Farr_ saw 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. _If_ she did she’s mad and ought to be put in an asylum. It isn’t even criminal, it’s drivelling. As for Auntie A.--now _she_ is 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----" "_There_ you 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----"