"It seems to be a miraculous happening all round. Lucky for the child that you heard him call--and still greater luck that you were able to get him to the top! But I suppose it was not the worst part of the Beak?" Pamela avoided the look of shrewd inquiry. "It wasn’t precipitous, of course," she said, "we should be having tea with the mermaids if it had been." "Didn’t the fog make it slippery?" asked Major Fraser. "Oh yes, rather. However, we did it," then meeting his eyes she went on: "I shall learn first aid after this, Major Fraser. Do you know I hadn’t a notion what to do with his foot. He fainted, poor tiny mite, and I hadn’t a drain of water except mist on my handkerchief! It was simply beastly. I do hope you won’t find his foot broken, but really it did seem to me quite the wrong way round." "Well, I must get on and see to this wounded man--as for you, Miss Pam, perhaps Miss Chance will kindly act deputy for me and see that you have some strong soup and go to bed early." He went on, thinking as he walked--not about Reuben Ensor. He was certain Pamela had kept back some important detail of her adventure. He knew the Beak. He knew the physical powers of a girl like Pamela, and the dead weight of a boy of six years old. What was she keeping back, and why? Meanwhile Pamela, having had quite enough of questions, and being heartily sick of giving answers with a reserve behind, changed the subject completely by demanding explanation from Miss Chance as to why and wherefore she was--where she was? Also what had become of the boat. The Floweret fell into the trap all standing--never seeing that it was intended to draw her mind from the Beak question. She had a very pallid countenance. Pamela had noticed that when they met; and she proceeded to explain it by the story of the day’s sail. Salterne, she said, was delightful. She had shopped to her heart’s content; all the parcels were on the yawl. The sail down the river too was perfectly charming. "Do you know, dear Pamela," said poor Miss Chance, "I felt quite sure I should prove a most competent sailor, and become quickly inured to the ups and downs of sea-life. Indeed, I told dear Adrian that I hoped to enrol myself as one of the crew of the _Messenger_ now that Sir Marmaduke has lent her to the family. Adrian did not say much, and I must admit that when I got outside--I mean when the yacht was really at sea--it became a different matter." "Were you bad--sick, I mean?" asked Pamela. "Oh, _very_." "How wretched for you. I am so sorry, Miss Chance, but you know one does get like that--when it is jumpy, and when it’s very calm too. You mustn’t mind about it. Nelson used to be sick, didn’t he?"