A sort of glint flashed in the stranger’s eyes. And Pamela’s natural perceptions caused her to read the thought behind that glint on the instant. The girl imagined she was fishing for information! "You can call me ’Countess’, if you wish to give me a name," she answered, "I have eight names, but I do not tell them to people in this place. You heard my maid say ’Countess’. Very well, then, you can also say Countess." "Oh, thanks--that’s very obliging of you," said Pamela, quite unimpressed, "it’s as you please, of course. And after that, to get to the reason of my visit. I naturally supposed that you meant me to meet you at 8.30 to-night." "Oh--to-night will do," allowed the Countess quite amiably, "I wished this morning, because I was in a hurry, but to-night will do as you have misunderstood my meaning." "_Neither_ would do, simply because I’ve no intention of meeting you anywhere, or at any time. It is just as well you should understand." There was a pause. Then Pamela took up her parable again--rather enjoying herself. "As I said to you a few minutes ago, why on earth should I? _I_ don’t want to be bothered with meeting anybody on the sly--we don’t do it in our family. The others would soon notice and think I was doing a low-down thing. I don’t know you--I don’t know your name. You are no business of mine. I don’t care what you’ve got to say if it is secret--if it isn’t, well, be open. That’s the whole position, please understand I came here because I wish to be open, and to tell you honestly." The Countess sat still with her eyes gazing at the carpet, her glance had dropped from Pamela’s expressive face and large clear eyes. "You are unkind," she said, after a moment of silence. "I have no one--no one." She clasped her hands together rigidly on her lap, and Pam saw that they shook. The corners of her proud mouth twitched a little. But she held herself severely in check, and controlled evident emotion. _This_ was worse than anything to a girl with a heart like Pamela’s. "I’m sorry," she said, "awfully sorry--but, what did you want me for?" She was annoyed with herself for asking, it was a weakness, she felt that. Countess raised her eyes to meet Pam’s. There was a something the least bit softer over their hard brightness. "I am troubled," she said, "and wished to ask advice from you. When we carried that boy up the cliff yesterday I dropped my brooch--it was a safety pin of rather large size, of gold, and with my first letter and the crown in diamonds. My mother gave it to me on my birthday when I was twelve years old--I would not lose it for the world.--It was in my blouse--here, you see," she touched the opening of her silk shirt. "I don’t know what I should do, I cannot find it--but I cannot offer a reward--what shall I do?" "You were on the cliff this morning looking for it, weren’t you?" asked Pamela, full of sympathy, and realizing the reason for Adrian’s attack on herself. Countess nodded.