"Oh, for a long while, everywhere." "My brother saw you. They were coming back from Salterne in the yawl, and passed under the Beak about seven o’clock. They thought it was _I_, you see," Pamela made a little grimace of disgust, "and said what was I doing there? I said I wasn’t there." "Did they believe you?" asked Countess, with a sudden interest that made her seem more girlish. "Crow did." "’Crow’!" "I beg your pardon, I mean Christobel, my elder sister. She is Mollie Shard’s friend, and she’s going to be presented fairly soon--she’s done with school--but we are awfully good chums. _She_ believed me, of course. She’d sooner mistrust her own eyes than my word, because we both know we wouldn’t tell each other crammers." "Is that lies?" "Yes. She knows I wouldn’t. _You_ wouldn’t tell your sister lies when you knew she trusted you, would you?" Countess shrugged her shoulders with a faint air of amusement. "I have no sister, so--well! But I should tell any person what I like, and whatever suited me to say. No one is bound to incriminate themselves. It is not ’lies’, as you call it--that is business, and common-sense." "Can’t agree with you at all," said Pamela icily. "’Business and common-sense to tell lies when it paid’. Nice sort of ideas!" She sat silent for a moment, then she asked: "Are you at school?" "Since I was ten years old, I have stayed--with a family--in England." "Oh, then you are not _English_?" Pamela felt a sense of relief, though she always tried hard not to be narrow. "No," said the Countess, adding, after a moment’s pause, "I was to go to school next term after the summer holidays." "Shall you now?" "I don’t know. I dare say not. I went for a while, it was horrible. I left soon; I don’t know about anything." "No wonder she left soon," thought Pamela, "her talk is simply full of ’I’s’, never heard anyone say so many." Again there was silence, because it was not easy to keep up conversation; the situation was so cramped and artificial to a girl of "open-air" temperament. Pamela began wondering if it would not be better to go now; she had said her say, and wanted to end it all. "Well, I’m awfully sorry about your brooch," she pulled up her gloves, and made a move to stand up. "If I hear that anyone has found it, what shall I do? I can’t claim it. Shall I give it to the Police--or what about Miss Ashington?" "Who is Miss Ashington? Don’t go yet--I want to talk to you--I want to know things." Pamela settled down rather uneasily, for the Countess had laid a restraining hand on her arm. "Oh, Miss Ashington is Lady Shard’s sister," she answered the first question simply. "Yes, of course, but I forgot. Chipman told me that, I remember now. No, how could I tell her, it would betray me, since the brooch is lost on the cliff, or the road. I cannot tell what I shall do--besides this Miss Ashington knows nothing of me--no one knows."