"You said the girl was pretty, and she didn’t draw you," reminded Hughie with painstaking care, "was she nice, Pam?" "I couldn’t say. She’s clever. It was she thought of the petticoat. She climbs like a cat; she isn’t a bit nervous--somehow she has a look of being used to it. There’s something about her that impresses one--her nose is a bit hooky." Pamela paused and considered the matter, Hughie watched her intently; then she began again: "She’s only told me one thing, Midget, and that came up by accident. Somehow brothers and fathers happened to be mentioned, and she said _her_ father was killed in the war. Just that. She looked so queer when she said it, kind of fierce. She’s got funny eyes--dark eyes, but not black--or hazel, there’s a sort of tinge of red in them, and when she told me that, the red shone." There was another pause, then Hughie remarked: "We _did_ see you, Pam." "Who did?" "Why don’t you remember Miss Chance said that we saw you in the mist against the sky, and thought it was two Pams carrying something." "I’d forgotten. Yes, you must have." "I didn’t say a word. She just thought she was mistaken afterwards. But I did rather wonder about it--especially when I felt pretty sure you couldn’t have got up the Beak." Pamela laughed. "You have sense, Midget--heaps. Now, look here, you’d better go to bed, I’m sleepy." Hughie slid off the bed. "Shall you go to Clawtol Wood?" he asked. "I don’t know. I’m not sure. Besides, how can I tell which 8.30 she means?" "She can’t mean breakfast-time," suggested her brother with reason. "They’d tell her we have it at half past eight, and usually wait about till nine in holidays. Besides, it’s a bad time for hiding oneself considering everybody in Bell Bay is going back to work." "So it is. Well, I must say going to meet people at 8.30 in the evening is rather a vulgar sort of action," Pamela lay down as she gave this distinctly sensible opinion. "I don’t care about going. I don’t think I will, Midget." "I wouldn’t," remarked Hughie decidedly, and went off--silently as he entered. The crew of the yawl was good as its word, and turned up at breakfast-time--half past eight. Indeed they were in the cove much earlier, and riding on the moorings like a white swan on a pond. It was calm and fresh as fairyland. Mist seemed to have lasted most of the night, but cleared with sunrise, leaving a wonderful feeling of cleanness. Christobel and Adrian were in high spirits, they had done what they most wished; anchored out all night, and slept on board--on their own responsibility, and they felt entirely satisfied with the experience, also, anxious to do it again. The more they did, the more they might be allowed to do without bother or question, for when Mrs. Romilly understood that they were as safe as in Penberthy’s day, she would cease to trouble about them.