"Who's there?"
"May I come in a minute? It's only I—Caroline," the answer came in a loud whisper.
"Oh—yes—yes—come in," she said, sitting up, only half awake as yet.
Caroline came in, a lighted candle in her hand. She was fully dressed, and had not even untied her hair. She looked a bit scared and puzzled. Closing the door softly behind her she crossed to the side of Pamela's bed.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said solemnly, "but I didn't think you'd be in bed yet—I haven't even started to get undressed—I—I don't like the look of my room!"
"Don't like the look of your room! Whatever do you mean, Caroline?" Pamela rubbed her eyes.
"Well, some one's been moving things. There are several things out of their usual places. I—I believe somebody has been in the room while we've been out to-day!"
Pamela was wide awake now.
"Oh, Caroline,—you don't mean burglars? There's nothing missing, is there? Has anything been taken?"
"No. Not so far as I can see," replied Caroline. "But things have been disturbed."
"I'll come in with you and have a look," said Pamela, springing up and hastily donning dressing-gown and slippers. "H'sh. We mustn't wake the others unless it's necessary. They're all so tired."
"I didn't notice anything just at first," said Caroline, as they entered her room.
"I don't notice anything now," remarked Pamela, looking round at the neat and orderly chamber.
"Wait a minute," said Caroline. "Look here—" and she pulled open one of the drawers in her dressing-table.
"Well?" said Pamela, who could see nothing amiss with the contents of the drawer.
"Well!" echoed Caroline rather indignantly, "I never leave my drawers like this. See—these gloves were folded together in that corner—and these ribbons here—and I always keep my handkerchiefs on top of each other at this side—These handkerchiefs are all arranged anyhow. I know I didn't leave them like this! ... And look here—on the mantelpiece—these photo frames have been shifted—and on this chair by the window my brown scarf which I left folded on the seat was on the floor!"
"Oh, come," said Pamela. "That might easily have slid off. The main point is—is there anything missing?"
"Nothing so far," replied Caroline. "But some one has been in here moving my things—I'm certain of it. I know just the way I always leave my belongings. I always put them in the same places and in the same positions."
She seemed so positive that Pamela was silenced. Anyone else but Caroline would probably not have noticed that anything had been disturbed in their room.
"Well—what shall we do?" said Pamela, who really thought that Caroline was under a delusion. She couldn't see anything wrong with the room. "If we wake everybody up we shall only scare them—it isn't as if you'd missed anything. That would be a different matter. I suppose you've searched all over the room? Of course, you've made sure there's no one hiding here now?"
"Oh, yes," said Caroline; but to make doubly sure she and Pamela searched again thoroughly. They looked in the wardrobe, behind the wardrobe, under the bed, behind the chest of drawers, and in and under every likely and unlikely place in the room.
"Have you looked in the soap-dish?" said Pamela, jokingly.
But Caroline did not laugh; she continued her search solemnly. Suddenly an exclamation from her made Pamela wheel round.
"Just fancy that!" said Caroline, still on her knees, after an attempt to look under the chest of drawers—a space of about six inches from the ground. "Look here, Pamela! Here's my silver thimble! The one I couldn't find—under the edge of the carpet beneath this chest of drawers. And I've looked everywhere for it—but here. It must have rolled off the back of the chest, and got wedged under the carpet."
"What luck! The search hasn't been wasted after all then," remarked Pamela, stifling a yawn.
"And it is my wish come true," said Caroline slowly.
"What! About the thimble! Is that what you wished?" cried Pamela.
"Yes," said Caroline. "I didn't know what else to wish—and I couldn't find my silver thimble that my grandmother gave me—so I thought I'd wish about that."
"I see," said Pamela, trying hard not to smile. "Well, your wish has come true. You lucky girl! I only hope the rest of us are as fortunate."
After this Caroline reluctantly agreed to go to bed, and not to bother any further about the things in her room being disturbed until the morning, when Pamela promised to make full inquiries and sift the matter thoroughly. Pamela felt fairly certain in her own mind that no one had been in Caroline's room or she would not have let the matter drop so easily. Both girls being now very tired after their long day in town they soon dropped into their beds and went off to sleep.
Caroline referred to the matter over breakfast in the morning, thereby incurring a great deal of attention and questioning from the others—which made her feel quite important for once in a way. Caroline was one of those people who could not usually attract much attention from others, as she was unable to talk interestingly about things. But this morning she found she was actually being interesting; she liked the sensation, and meant to make the most of it.
While Pamela and Isobel discussed the matter with Caroline, Beryl, who had turned very white, sat silent, her half-finished breakfast pushed on one side; she sat stirring her tea mechanically round and round—only breaking her silence once to ask Caroline if she had missed anything, and seemed relieved on hearing that Caroline had not.
"I suppose nobody else's room was disturbed in any way?" said Pamela, adding, "Mine was all right."
"So was mine," said Isobel.
"And mine," echoed Beryl, quickly.
"Well, we'll just go and ask Ellen if she can throw any light on the matter, shall we?" said Pamela. "She was the only inmate of this house who was not up in London yesterday."
Ellen was very interested, but it did not seem as if she could help to solve the question. She had certainly not been in the room herself; she had left the house at the same time as they did yesterday, and when she and Millicent Jackson—the friend with whom she had spent the day—had come in to fetch the umbrellas to bring to the station in the evening, they had not been upstairs at all. They had let themselves in at the back door, gone straight through to the hall, taken the umbrellas out of the stand, and gone out of the front door. They weren't in the house five minutes, as they were in a hurry to get to the station in time.
"There, Caroline!" said Isobel. "You see nobody could have been in your room. You must have moved the things yourself."
But Caroline shook her head.
"Could anyone have slipped in the back door after you—without you noticing?" she asked Ellen.
"Oh, miss! Well—I never thought of that!" said Ellen, then hesitated. "Of course, they could have, Miss Caroline—but it's most unlikely. If anyone had troubled to do that they would have taken something while they were about it, wouldn't they?"
Caroline shrugged her shoulders.
"All I know is—the things in my room were disturbed," she insisted doggedly. "And I don't like it."
"How could anyone have slipped in without you seeing, Ellen?" inquired Pamela.
"Well, Miss Pamela, to be exact," explained Ellen, "me an' Millicent unlocked the back door and came in, shut the door, and went into the kitchen, where I struck a match and lit the candle that we keep on the dresser here. We didn't bother to light the gas as we was going straight through, and out the front way. Me an' Millicent was talking, interested-like, as we went into the hall, when Millicent says, 'Oh, did you lock the back door again?' And I says, 'Oh, no.' And I went back and locked it.... Then we got the umbrellas and went straight out the front way.... Now, do you think anyone would have got in just in that minute before I locked the back door, Miss Pamela? Now do you, Miss Caroline?"
"It's just possible, of course, but not at all likely," said Pamela. "Thanks very much, Ellen—as nothing has been missed, I really don't see any use in pursuing the matter further, Caroline, do you? ... And it's such a grand morning, let's all go for a good tramp over the hills."
So Pamela dismissed the incident from her mind; and Isobel, putting it down to "one of the bees in old Caroline's bonnet," soon followed suit. Ellen and Martha discussed the matter together, and Ellen repeated her story to Martha several times—each time with more emphasis than the last; and when she next saw Millicent Jackson she mentioned it to her, and they talked of it until the subject was exhausted—then as nothing further happened to make them remember it, they too forgot it. Caroline remembered it as a grievance for a considerable time, then the excitement of the coming bazaar caused it to fade into the background. The only one who did not forget the incident was Beryl, and she had good reason to remember it—as we shall presently see.
After the visit to London a marked change seemed to come over Beryl; always pale and nervous, she appeared to grow even paler and more nervous as the days went by. At times she would emerge from the cloud of depression which seemed so often to envelop her now and join light-heartedly in whatever was going on, but these occasions grew more and more rare.
When Pamela remarked on her paleness one day Beryl put it down to the weather, saying it made her feel tired. Pamela believed her; had she not been so absorbed in Elizabeth Bagg and her work she might have noticed things that would have aroused her suspicions; but she was not suspicious in any way until one evening Beryl, very awkward and hesitating, asked Pamela if she would lend her a sovereign. Pamela did not voice the surprise she showed in her face—surprise because the pocket-money handed over to each of them by Mr Sigglesthorne had been quite generous and sufficient for the few expenses the girls would be likely to incur in Barrowfield during the remainder of their stay. However, she lent the money at once, and willingly, and asked no questions—for which Beryl seemed very grateful.
Feeling a little uneasy about the matter, and wishing to help her if possible, Pamela made several opportunities for Beryl to confide in her if she had wished to do so. But Beryl did not seem to wish to do so.