Things certainly looked less black after tea. Hugh, beginning to hope for Grizzel's miracle, decided to develop some photographs of the ballooners which he had taken on the previous day. "I promised Mr. Ferguson to have some prints ready for him to-morrow," he said, "so I may as well begin. If the bobby comes you can call me." But everyone wanted to watch the developing process. Hugh's dark-room was a roomy lean-to shed, built by himself and well equipped with shelves, sink, and taps. It would hold six people at a pinch. "No, I can't have you all," Hugh said, "you wouldn't all see at once, and it is too much of a crowd. I'll take two at a time. Dick and Prue to begin with." The remaining three settled themselves within sight of the garden gate, and discussed the various features of Hugh's adventure. "I don't believe it is half so bad as he thinks," Jerry said, "because it stands to reason that a dead man could not get up and walk away, especially not across a ploughed field. I doubt if even a man who had lost several pints of blood could walk very far. And if he had been _carried_ off, there would have been a fuss, and the ballooners would have been tackled at once--in fact, I can't think why they weren't. I think it looks rather bad for Grizzel's diamond; worse for the diamond than for the man. I wonder how fast the balloon was going. How fast does a balloon fly?" "Somewhere from eight to thirty-six miles an hour, according to the wind, Jules Verne says," Grizzel answered. "Eight miles an hour! My hat! Fancy crawling through the air at eight--" There was a sound at the garden gate and the three jumped to their feet. A young man walked up the broad path between the cypress trees, striking across the grass when he saw the children. He was not a policeman, having indeed a very kind and cheerful expression, which he was trying, not very successfully, to hide under a severe frown. "Does anyone named Grizzel Campbell live in this house?" he asked. "Yes, me," Grizzel answered, turning a little pale. "You!" exclaimed the young man, looking with some astonishment at the small figure before him, with its tumbled red curls. "I don't suppose _you_ are the owner of a--" he broke off uncertainly. "She is the owner of a green diamond in a ring, if that is what you wish to know," Jerry spoke up. "What on earth is a kid like you doing with a magnificent diamond ring?" the young man asked, forgetting to frown and letting everyone see quite plainly what a nice face he really had. "Oh--have you got my ring? Has there been a miracle?" Grizzel cried, clutching at the young man's arm. "I have got the ring, and there has been a miracle sure enough," he answered rather grimly. "I suppose that Mr. Hugh Campbell is your brother. Where is he?"