There was a pause. Pamela seemed to be thinking deeply. Hughie made use of the interval to sit up in bed--indeed he sat on his pillow, holding the small pyjama-clad ankles of his crossed legs in either hand. He looked very much like an enlarged soapstone figure of an Indian god. After a sufficiently long pause to make Hughie feel sure his sister was very guilty in the matter, Pamela said: "What was I doing?" "I should think you ought to know," answered Hughie coldly. "No, but tell me. I want to know just what you saw." Hughie complied. "So I waved--when I’d called; and you looked back and put up your hand. And then you ran away. I ran too, but I couldn’t catch you--I never can--you know that perfectly well," he concluded. He could see his sister’s face quite plainly in the moonlight. She was frowning with a sort of puzzled intentness, and her keen features looked very sharp. Hughie, quick as she to observe, began to explain further. He told how he went to Clawtol, and how he inquired from Mrs. Ensor and her family. "And Reube said he’d seen you," he ended. "Reube said he’d seen _me_," echoed Pamela, "are you sure, Midget?" Hughie considered; then he repeated carefully: "Mrs. Ensor said ’did you see the young lady?’ and Reube said ’yes’." "Ah!" breathed Pamela, low, to herself. Then she left her position at the bed foot, and moved about the room in a restless silent fashion, her eyes on the ground. At last she came to a stand by the window. Hughie made no remark; his eyes followed her, and he was much interested; there was plainly something on foot not understandable at first. "How was I--she--dressed?" asked Pamela suddenly. "Oh, your usual things--what you had on the boat," said Hughie vaguely. "Brown shoes and stockings?" Pam demanded. Hughie thought about it. Then he said he couldn’t see so far. "But I saw your pigtail hanging down. There was a bit of light on it, and it shone." Pamela went back to the foot of the bed, and leaned there. "Look here, Hughie," she said seriously, "if I say a thing you’d believe me, wouldn’t you?" Hughie gripped his ankles with either small brown hand and gazed back at her thoughtfully. "I should _believe_ you--if you said a true thing," he said. "Well, I’m going to say a true thing. The girl you saw wasn’t me--I mean, I." "Oh!" said Hughie, "who was she, then?" "I don’t know any more than you do, but I’d venture to bet a shilling that she’s the same girl Mollie Shard saw. Don’t you remember when Mollie said she saw _me_, out by Mainsail Cottage on Tuesday morning. Well, I wasn’t." "Oh," murmured Hughie again--then, "I remember what Mollie said, but why didn’t you say it wasn’t you, Pam?" "I was thinking about something rather queer that I saw myself; kind of adding them together." "What did you see yourself?" Pamela did not answer this question at once, her mind was searching round for points, at last: