"On the top of Hawksdown--where the road goes to Clawtol," said Hughie.

"But *when*?"

"Why, this evening, when I was coming home, of course."

There was a pause. Pamela seemed to be thinking deeply. Hughie made use of the interval to sit up in bed--indeed he sat on his pillow, holding the small pyjama-clad ankles of his crossed legs in either hand. He looked very much like an enlarged soapstone figure of an Indian god.

After a sufficiently long pause to make Hughie feel sure his sister was very guilty in the matter, Pamela said:

"What was I doing?"

"I should think you ought to know," answered Hughie coldly.

"No, but tell me. I want to know just what you saw."

Hughie complied.

"So I waved--when I’d called; and you looked back and put up your hand. And then you ran away. I ran too, but I couldn’t catch you--I never can--you know that perfectly well," he concluded.

He could see his sister’s face quite plainly in the moonlight. She was frowning with a sort of puzzled intentness, and her keen features looked very sharp. Hughie, quick as she to observe, began to explain further. He told how he went to Clawtol, and how he inquired from Mrs. Ensor and her family.

"And Reube said he’d seen you," he ended.

"Reube said he’d seen *me*," echoed Pamela, "are you sure, Midget?"

Hughie considered; then he repeated carefully:

"Mrs. Ensor said ’did you see the young lady?’ and Reube said ’yes’."

"Ah!" breathed Pamela, low, to herself. Then she left her position at the bed foot, and moved about the room in a restless silent fashion, her eyes on the ground. At last she came to a stand by the window.

Hughie made no remark; his eyes followed her, and he was much interested; there was plainly something on foot not understandable at first.

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