Time went on. Eight o’clock. Nine. Ten. Then Pamela begged her mother to send for Miss Anne. _She_ would have to explain; perhaps it would take off Mrs. Romilly’s mind from the agony of waiting for the yawl. Nobody went to bed. Every hour the wind grew stiffer--it had backed down into the south-west and settled to blow--dark as pitch, with horribly squally gusts. Pamela remembered that awful night as long as she lived, and the grey dawn that followed--when the wind screamed in the chimneys, and spray blew up the valley. *CHAPTER XX* *The "Messenger" to the Rescue* When Christobel came back to the shore after getting ready for that strange swim, she felt as though she was in a dream and the events happening to somebody else. To be starting out in such uncanny fashion when the day was closing in and night--very threatening night--begun, seemed too unnatural. She did not like the notion of sailing into that uneasy grey waste beyond the cliff gates of the cove, but apart from the discomfort she was hardly afraid. Both she and Adrian had become practised in the last two weeks of choppy sea and gusty breezes. The predominating idea, though, was the madness of Pamela. Both Crow and her mother were absolutely dazed by this amazing act on the part of the younger girl. Why? _Why_? What was the use and what was the sense? Could it be anything to do with Badger? She had seemed so happy during this fortnight past. At tea-time there was no appearance of worry. "Well, Mummy--I’m not sure. She was very quiet and absent at tea." "So she was--yes----" Then Mrs. Romilly went over the whole ground again, tearing her own heart with doubts, dreads, and misgivings. But the upshot of the whole thing seemed to be that Pamela was demented. No sane girl would go off at that hour, and in such a sea, rowing an open dinghy with small sculls. The swim was nothing--rather jolly in fact. Adrian climbed up first and let down the short white steps for her. "What’s the tide doing?" asked Crow, and she stood a moment on the counter looking round. "On the turn, I think; however, considering we don’t know which way she’s gone----" "No; but won’t she be forced to go the way the tide goes?" suggested Crow from the companion-way. "I suppose so. What raving insanity it all is! I can’t see a glimpse of her anywhere. You see, we don’t know how long a start she had." "Keziah said----" "Oh, I know--but Keziah’s an idiot. Did you ever know her tell you a thing accurately?" It will be seen that Adrian was cross. He was, very. Expecting a wet night, he had housed the mainsail and the mizzen in their covers, and now all was to undo, and do over again. It really was maddening. Also he had made up his mind to tell Pamela his opinion when they found her. Having restrained his tongue on the Champles Creek event, he believed it was now time to let go.