She said it was a lovely evening, but her feet were wet with the dew; she leaned against a pillar, and, turning up one slim foot, looked at the sole of her shoe. Miss Ashington looked at it also, in a vague kind of manner--she could not see, but she was disturbed to know it was wet. "Surely it is late for you to be out, dear child," said Auntie A., "_hush_, Charles, be quiet, you know very well who it is--now let me call Dickens and she will find you dry shoes--what about Mollie’s--I really cannot allow----" "But I must go back at once," said the girl, "please do not call anyone," as Miss Ashington hunted on her table for the brass hand-bell that was supposed to be at her elbow, but was always underneath other things, "please do not. I came from my mother to say, may she have the safety-pin brooch with the diamond crown that Adrian found on the cliff--that she sent to you--because the owner is found." "Ah, the brooch with A initials--yes--yes--yes--now _where_," murmured Auntie A. "I think I had better ring for Dickens----" she hunted for the bell and the table fell over. Charles coughed himself into convulsions. "Dear, dear--if you can find the bell--please ring it, dear child." "Dear child" was on her knee hunting, with the bell safely covered by her skirt. She was searching among the overturned articles with the desperate hope of finding what she came for, instinct suggesting that it might easily be actually on the table. It was. That is to say, it had been put into Miss Ashington’s wicker work-basket, which, having fallen over also, upside down, had emptied its contents on the tiled floor. The brass bell clattered, the reels of cotton spun about driving Charles into delirium, but the searcher cared for none of these things, for she had seen the sudden glint of the diamonds in a ray of light that the drawing-room lamps threw out across the pavement. "Here it is," she said, with a ring of joy in her voice, "let me make this right." She set the table up, bundled the obvious contents of the work-basket back into place, seized the papers, books, wool, finally the bell--and put them on the table--in doing so she rang the bell, and on the instant was upon her feet, straightening her shady hat. "Thank you, thank you, Miss Ashington--and I must now go--my shoes are so wet. You will forgive me that I go at once." A maid appeared, coming out of the window in answer to the bell summons. As Miss Ashington looked round to speak to her, Pamela melted into the shadows like a wraith. "Is that you, Farr?" Auntie A. was rather flustered. "We had an accident. No, I didn’t ring--not intentionally--the table fell over. Take care you don’t slip on a reel, they are so treacherous and the pavement is very---- Oh, _poor_ little Charles, he was so upset and quite resented a visitor at this time of night!"