“It’s frightfully exciting-it really is. And even Charles doesn’t know about it, because it happened after he brought me home, and before Margaret came home.”

“What happened?” It was Margaret who asked.

“Well, Charles brought me home, and-Oh, Freddy, do you know, I really can drive!-Can’t I, Charles? I drove two miles, and Charles never touched the wheel once.”

“What happened after you got home?” This was Archie.

“Well, I thought I’d write to Stephanie and tell her I could drive. So I did. And then I thought I would go out and post it. So I went out, and there was a big car standing just opposite, and the chauffeur walking up and down. And I stopped under the lamp-post just to see if I had stuck my letter down properly, and then I went along to the letter-box. And when I got to the dark bit where the gardens are, I looked back because I heard something, and I saw the car coming along ever so slowly-just crawling, you know. And I thought it was going to stop at one of the houses, and it did. And I ran on to the pillar-box and put my letter in and started to come back. And it was still there.”

Greta’s words came faster and faster, and her cheeks got pinker and pinker. She made Margaret look like a ghost.

“Not very exciting so far,” said Charles drily.

“It’s going to be. You wait. When I got up to the car I did get a fright. The chauffeur spoke to me. He had a sort of growly voice, and he said, ‘Get in quick, miss.’ And I said, ‘It’s not my car.’ And he came after me, and he said I must come quickly because Egbert wanted me to.”

“Oh, Lord!” said Charles to himself.

Freddy said, “Egbert?” in a mild puzzled way.

“Oh, I oughtn’t to have said that! But you won’t tell anyone-will you? And Archie won’t. And I really didn’t mean to say his name, but it’s so frightfully difficult to remember all the things I mustn’t say. You’ll be frightfully nice-won’t you, and forget about my saying Egbert-won’t you?”

Freddy assured her that he had already forgotten.

“The fellow spoke to you-dash his impudence! And then what happened?”

“He said my cousin wanted me. It’ll be all right if I say my cousin, won’t it? I needn’t say his name.”

“What happened?” said Archie.

“I simply ran, and I gave a sort of scream. And he said, ‘Don’t make a noise.’ And I made a louder scream and simply ran like anything. And he caught my arm. Wasn’t it frightful? Only just then two cars came along out of that little crescent, and that frightened him, and he let go, and I never stopped running till I got home. Wasn’t it a frightful adventure?”

CHAPTER XXIX

Dinner was over at last. Charles had never endured forty minutes more crowded with indiscretions. He was reduced to a condition of exasperated resignation. After all, neither Freddy nor Archie mattered; but unless one locked the creature up, she would prattle in the same artless way to anyone she met. He thought of uninhabited islands with yearning, and of Margaret with rage. If it were not for Margaret he would not be mixed up in this damned affair at all.

The girls went upstairs to put on their coats. Freddy fussed away to see if the car had come round. Archie turned a reproachful eye on Charles.

“Why teach an innocent child to practise concealments?”

Charles had no reply but a frown.

“Why keep me out of it anyhow? Why pretend?”

“What are you driving at?”

“Well, she’s Margot Standing, isn’t she?”

“You guessed when she said ‘Egbert’?”

“I guessed the second time I saw her,” said Archie. “She wants a whole heap of practice before she can conceal anythin’. Does Freddy know?”

“I expect he does by now. Egbert isn’t the sort of name most fellows would be seen dead in a ditch with. Look here, Archie, I want to talk to you. What about after the show? We can take the girls home, and then you come round to ‘The Luxe’ with me.”

Archie nodded, and Freddy came, back into the room. Upstairs Greta clutched Margaret by the arm.

“He never showed us the miniature. Margaret, I do want to see your mother’s miniature so badly.”

“Why should you want to see it?” Her tone said plainly. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“I want to see it frightfully. When I saw Esther Brandon written on that bit of paper, it gave me a most frightfully excited sort of feeling. I simply must see her miniature. Where is it? Can’t you show it to me?”

“It’s in Freddy’s study,” said Margaret in a slow, flat voice.

“Show it to me quickly! Oh, do put on your coat and come and show it to me!”

She fairly danced down the stairs, looking back over her shoulder and urging Margaret to hurry.

The study was one of those built-out rooms half-way down the stair-a fussy, untidy place full of photographs, pipes, guns, fishing-rods, stamp-albums, old bound magazines, and a chaotic muddle of letters and bills.

“Freddy’s hopeless,” said Margaret.

“Where’s the miniature?”

“On his writing-table.” She moved The Times and two picture papers as she spoke. Under the papers was a tall old-fashioned miniature case. It had folding doors that could be locked. The doors were shut.

“Oh!” said Greta. She caught at the table and leaned on it. “Oh, it’s Papa’s! Oh, Margaret, it’s Papa’s!”

Margaret just stood and looked at it.

“Margaret, it is Papa’s! Oh, do open it!”

“What are you talking about?” said Margaret very slowly.

“Papa had a case just like this. It stood on his table. I told Mr. Hale about it. I only saw inside it once-just a peep. Oh, Margaret, do open it-do!”

Margaret put her hand on the case.

“It’s locked, Greta.”

“Get him to open it. Oh, I do want to see what’s inside!”

“I can’t do that.”

“Papa’s had diamonds all round it. Has this one got diamonds all round it?”

“No, it’s quite plain-just a picture of my mother in a white dress.”

“My mother had a white dress too. It must have been my mother. Don’t you think so? There were diamonds all round. They sparkled like anything.”

“Greta! Margaret! Hurry up!” Freddy was fussing in the hall; his voice sounded querulous.

Greta gave a little shriek of dismay:

“Oh, we’ll be late! We mustn’t be late! We’re coming,” she cried, and ran out of the room.

For a moment Margaret stayed behind. She put both hands on the case and opened the little doors. The case opened quite easily. Esther Brandon looked out at her. She wore a white dress. She smiled serenely. The world was at her feet.

Margaret shut the case and went slowly out of the room.

The show was a great success as far as Greta and Freddy were concerned. There was singing, there was dancing; there were coloured lights and gorgeous scenes quite unlike anything except a stage land of dreams.

Greta was in the seventh heaven. She sat between Freddy and Archie, and at intervals she murmured, “How frightfully clever! How frightfully sweet!” and “Oh, isn’t he wonderful?”

Archie’s comment, “Revoltin’ fellow,” was received with intense disfavour.

“He’s lovely! His eyelashes are longer than Charles’. I think he’s simply sweet.”

This was in the interval.

Archie made a face and hummed just under his breath.

“Oh, you do need

Someone to watch over you-misquotation from Oh Kay.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. It says,

“ ‘Oh, I do need

Someone to watch over me.’ ”

“That’s what I said. Or, in the plain words of everyday life, you want someone to look after you.”

“I don’t! I can look after myself. I’m eighteen, and I was leaving school at Christmas anyhow. Of course you’re older than me. But I’m grown up, and that’s what matters. How old are you, Archie? Are you frightfully old?”

“Frightfully. Poor old Charles and I are just hangin’ on.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” said Archie. “But Charles was twenty-eight a week ago, so I’m one up on him.”