"Oh no, not they, of course. But don’t you see, Addie, the thing might have been dropped and picked up by someone who wasn’t honest. It may even have been stolen. You know how utterly vague they both are, dear souls, they’ll forget and never miss it. Then the person who had it might have gone on the cliff front--some servant--man-servant from London, say--chauffeurs, anybody--I propose that someone goes up to Crown Hill and hands it over to Auntie A. It is most certainly theirs." "Once it gets into Miss Ashington’s hands no one will see it again," said Pamela desperately. "That sounds rather an awkward remark," commented Adrian, as they all took their places round the table. "I don’t mean she’ll steal it," explained Pam, very hot and worried, "but what’s the good of talking; everybody knows her. Whether it is hers or not she’ll forget Mother has sent it to her, and things will drift vaguely." "What would you do then?" asked Crow. "Oh, give it to the Police, and tell them to advertise it. Then the real owner will claim it." So said Pamela in the despairing hope of giving a chance to the Countess, who would claim, of course, through Sir Marmaduke, if she did not wish to appear in the matter. Adrian agreed with her, quite unexpectedly, for which she felt grateful. "There’s a lot of sense in Pam’s notion, Mother," he said, "Auntie A. is no more and no less than the White Queen in _Alice Through the Looking-glass_--with just as much sense. She’s an old dear, we all know--but she’ll give the thing to Charles to eat as soon as not; or hand it to a beggar in mistake for sixpence! She doesn’t know the difference between her own hat and a church hassock." "_Darling_," expostulated Mrs. Romilly, "is it as bad as that?" "Well, Mum--you know Auntie A. I vote for the Police Station at Ramsworthy. Let me take it there." "I think we ought to try Crown Hill first," said his mother, quietly persistent, as always, now the idea had once lodged in her brain. "Who’ll go?" A wild impulse rushed into Pamela’s brain. Should she offer to take it, and return it to its rightful owner, trusting to the fact that Miss Ashington would never remember whether she had received it or not? But the thought occurred only to be rejected. It wouldn’t do at all. It would be horrid, and after all, suppose the brooch was given to Auntie A., all she had to do was to tell the Countess, who could write to Sir Marmaduke Shard and explain that the strange jewel was hers. That was simple enough. When the party dispersed after breakfast Pamela felt better. The path seemed less encumbered. She decided to write to the Countess and to take the letter herself and leave it at the gate. Miss Chance and Hughie conveyed the precious parcel to Crown Hill with a letter from Mrs. Romilly, and the other two went off to the bay to overhaul _Messenger_ for a grand clean up and polish. After several attempts Pamela wrote a note that satisfied her.