"I tried to get it out, I swear I did," avowed Douglas. "The owner of the hall made two men sit on it until the door was locked. He's going to keep it in pawn until he gets his nine pounds fourteen." "And Madame Cheape never gave us any money, did she?" "Not one farthing." A grim silence prevailed. How were they to face this terrible Miss Sargeant? One of the lodgers and the piano, both departed--flitted away! "I advise this," said Archie ultimately. "Let Miss Stornway's basket be brought round here, and you girls go and pack up all your other belongings and bring them along too. Then each pay Mrs. Sargeant your respective shares of the rent you had all agreed upon--twelve-and-six, wasn't it? That's four and twopence each. Tell her old Cheape has sloped, but that the piano is all right, and will come home sooner or later. Then if she still chooses to kick up a row, she can't stick to any of your props, that's one thing." "We really oughtn't to be expected to suffer for either the Cheape's or the Punter's tricks, ought we?" demanded Jess, and so Archie's plan of campaign was adopted. The interview passed off quite easily. The terrible Miss Sargeant had not yet returned; the old woman accepted their eight-and-fourpence without demur, and a blouse that Madame Cheape had overlooked as a substitute for the remaining four-and-twopence. Both girls united in assuring her that the precious piano was in safe keeping, and that she was to impress this fact upon her daughter. They then hastened back to Mrs. Shiells's warm, cosy kitchen, feasted on hot broth and discussed the desperate state of affairs. At last it became needful to return to their own cheerless rooms to sleep. The men in a group escorted them through the dark, deserted roads. But Archie was in a thoroughly furious temper, and Douglas was never a sucking dove. As the group stood for a final chat in the street outside Mrs. Sargeant's house, these two, from angry disputing, set to work to settle their differences of opinion by seeing who could hit hardest. A general uproar resulted, starting peaceful Ayr from its first slumbers. All along the street, upper windows were flung open, and heads appeared, startled or curious. Suddenly yet another sound was clearly heard above all the confusion--the angry bang of a door, the sharp turning of a key, and the drawing of bolts. The girls were locked out! A sudden hush descended, and for a moment everyone stood spellbound. Then Evarne quickly sped across the street, and banged with the knocker again and again. The only response took the form of a young woman appearing at an upper window.