"Better go quietly, Missy," said the station inspector, who had come bustling up. "You don't want to attract a crowd, I'm sure, do you? No; then let me put you in this cab, and drive you round to the police station. It's only a couple of streets away. They'll explain everything to you there." There was sense in his remarks, for people on the platform were beginning to stop and stare at Meg with an interest she deeply resented. To enter the cab seemed the lesser evil, even if she must pay a visit to the police station. The inspector handed her in politely, and entering after, took the seat opposite, while the policeman mounted the box beside the driver. "They seem desperately afraid of my escaping! I wonder they don't handcuff me!" thought Meg, waxing more and more angry at the indignity of the proceeding. The little drive only occupied a few minutes, and arrived at the police station, she was shown at once into the head inspector's office. "I should like to know what charge you have against me," demanded Meg, determined to hold her own, and not to be frightened at her arrest. "Withdrawing yourself from the hands of your lawful schoolmistress and present guardian," replied the inspector pompously. "But I was only on my way home!" The official, however, was busy reading something from a notebook. "'Surname Latimer, Christian name Gipsy. Height, 5 feet 1 inch. Eyes brown, complexion dark, hair brown. Dressed in navy-blue alpaca frock over white delaine blouse top, and probably wearing sailor hat with blue-and-white striped band, and a pair of tennis shoes.' The whole tallies exactly," he murmured, surveying Meg from head to foot, to see that he had not omitted any of the items. "You're making a mistake. My name's Margaret Gordon, not Gipsy Latimer! I live at The Gables, near Willowburn. My father is a solicitor in the town. His office is at 15 Wells Street." "We'll soon see about that. I think I must trouble you for your pocket-handkerchief, Missy, please." Considerably mystified, Meg felt in her pocket and handed over the article in question. The inspector examined it closely, then shook his head. "It has 'G. Latimer' marked in the corner. That doesn't look much like Margaret Gordon, does it?" Meg was furious at her own stupidity. She and Gipsy had never thought of exchanging the contents of their pockets. "Look here! Send for my father!" she begged. "He'll soon tell you who I am, and explain the whole matter." "We don't need to send for anybody," returned the official. "Miss Poppleton's quite enough for us. We've got her description of you, and our instructions are to take you straight back to the school. You'll find you've not gained much by running away." There was only one consolation for Meg, the remembrance that her capture would possibly enable Gipsy to escape in safety.