"Splendiferous! I'll do it!" she said aloud; and, whisking out of the room, she ran up the winding staircase, and through the open wire door into the forbidden but fascinating territory of the attics. The girls at the Grange were obliged to keep strictly to their practising time-table, and Raymonde was due at the piano in the sanctum from 5.30 until 6.15. At 5.40, which was fully ten minutes late, the strains of her Beethoven Sonata began to resound down the passage. Mademoiselle, passing from her bedroom, stood for a moment to listen. She was impressed by the fact that Raymonde was playing much better than usual, and performing in quite a stylish fashion the passage which usually baffled her. She almost opened the door to congratulate her pupil, but being in a hurry changed her mind, and ran downstairs instead. A little later Veronica, also in much haste, entered the room arm-in-arm with Hermie. "Miss Beasley has sent the notes, Ray," she explained. "You needn't stop. I'll just pop them inside your drawer, and you can put them away properly when you've finished practising." The figure at the piano did not turn her head, or attempt to reply, but went on diligently with the scherzo movement of the Sonata, bringing out her chords crisply, and executing some quite brilliant runs. "Raymonde's improving enormously in her music," commented Hermie, as the two monitresses went back along the passage. "Yes," agreed Veronica. "And how remarkably pretty she looked to-night! Her hair was quite curly, and she had such a lovely colour. Did you notice?" "That room's so dark, I can't say I did, particularly. Ray's not bad looking, though I don't call her exactly a beauty!" "She looked a beauty this evening! Fauvette will have to mind her laurels! She's always been the belle of the Form until now." When Maudie Heywood, in accordance with the practising time-table, came at 6.15 to claim the piano, she found the sanctum unoccupied. Raymonde's drawer in the bureau was shut and locked. This fact Maudie noticed almost automatically. At the moment it seemed a matter of no consequence, though in the light of after events it was to assume a greater importance than she could have imagined. Raymonde turned up late for preparation, looking hot and conscious, and with her brown serge dress only half fastened. She gave no excuse for her lack of punctuality, and took her loss of order mark with stoicism. "What were you doing?" whispered Aveline, when the evening work was over and the books were being put away. Raymonde's head was inside her desk. She drew it out, and seemed on the point of uttering a confidence. Then, suddenly changing her mind, she stooped again to arrange her papers. "Little girls shouldn't ask questions!" she grunted. "Oh, very well!" flared Aveline, who was very easily offended. "I'm sure you needn't tell me anything if you don't want to, thanks! I shan't force your silly secrets from you!"