"I wonder," said Brenda, in response, "that a little girl dares to utter such untruths. And where's your notebook, Nina? Out with it, this minute!" Nina coloured and then turned pale. "I've lost it," she said. "Lost it--what do you mean?" "Well, not that exactly. I--I've torn it up." "You wicked little girl!" Brenda advanced towards poor Nina; but what might have happened was never known, for just at that moment there came a tap at the door, and in walked Penelope. There was a look on her face which the three little Amberleys had never seen there before; but Brenda had on one occasion, that great and auspicious occasion when her younger sister had stood spellbound under the full rays of the electric light, acting the part of Helen of Troy. There was the same rapt gaze, the same expression in her eyes, which seemed to say: "Where'er I came I brought calamity." Brenda did not know why her heart sank so low in her breast, why the petty, trivial things which had been annoying her a moment before sank utterly out of sight. Penelope looked round at the three girls. "I want to speak to Brenda," she said. "Brenda, can I see you alone." "You had better go out, girls, as Penelope chooses to be so mysterious," said Brenda, recovering herself, and speaking in a sulky tone. It did not take the girls long to put on their sailor hats, and a moment later they had left the room. Then Penelope turned the key in the lock. "It has come, Brenda," she said. "I don't want to reproach you or to say a cross word; but there's only one thing to be done." "What in the wide world do you mean?" said Brenda. "What reason have you for all these heroics?" "I know about you," said Penelope then. "It,"--her voice quivered--"has broken my heart! But there is only one thing to be done. You must come back with me to Beverley Castle, and bring the bangle with you." "The bangle?" said Brenda. She had been fairly cool until now. But now she trembled exceedingly, and leaned up against the wardrobe. She did not even ask what bangle. "You stole Nellie Hungerford's bangle on the day of the break-up at Hazlitt Chase," pursued Penelope. "You put people on the wrong scent with regard to it. Where you found it and how--I don't know, but you did find it." "How can you possibly, possibly tell?" gasped Brenda then. "For the beat of all reasons--I have seen it." "Seen it--seen it? the lost bangle?" "I saw it last night. Mademoiselle got possession of it--I can't exactly say how--but she managed to get to your drawer and found it." "I don't believe a word of it!" began Brenda. "It is true," said Penelope. "There is no way out, Brenda, except by the one painful way. You and I must see Mrs Hungerford to-day, and return the bangle. There is no other possible way out." "But--but--I didn't do it," began Brenda. "Oh, poor Brenda!" said Penelope. "Why will you add to all the misery by telling lies? You know you did it. I will call Mademoiselle."