"Some spy, I suppose. One has constantly to be on the lookout for treachery, especially in a place like this. If we could only find out where the leakage is! There, Lorraine, I can't stay. I've got to see Mr. Jermyn immediately."
Uncle Barton—busy, energetic little man that he was—waved his hand to his niece and hurried away up the road, just as Claudia, also in a hurry, turned the corner. Lorraine cut short her apologies with the news about the telephone wires.
"It means," she explained, "that, until they find the place and can mend it, Porthkeverne's cut off by telephone from all other places. You may depend upon it, as Uncle says, there's some treachery at the bottom of this. Isn't it horrible to think that there may be spies in the town, ready to betray one's country?"
"Dreadful!" shuddered Claudia. "They ought to intern everyone who's the least bit under suspicion."
The two girls walked rapidly to The Gables, and went into the school-yard and up the outside staircase. Lorraine had the key in her pocket, and unlocked the museum. Directly she entered, she noticed that the room was not as she had left it. Some of the desks and boxes had certainly been moved. She remembered exactly how she had placed them yesterday. Her first thought was that Mrs. Jones, the charwoman, must have been in to clean; but that was clearly impossible, for she herself had the key. Who could have intruded into the sanctum, and for what reason? She discussed it with Claudia. It gave them both a most uncanny feeling to think that someone had been able to enter. The Gables was practically shut up. Had a burglar been picking the locks during Miss Kingsley's absence? There seemed to be nothing in the museum likely to excite the cupidity of even an amateur thief; the specimens, though interesting to the school, were of no monetary value. Lorraine's glance went slowly round the room, and took in the desks and boxes, the walls, on which she had pinned natural history prints, and finally wandered up to the ceiling. Ah, here was a clue at last! The trap-door in the corner had certainly been moved—it did not now quite fit down. There was about an inch of light to be seen round its edge. A horrible idea suggested itself to the girls. Suppose somebody was in hiding up there!
The bare notion blanched their cheeks. With one accord they fled from the room, locked the door on the outside, and scurried down the steps. In the yard they paused. What was to be done next? They did not feel capable of tackling a possible burglar unaided, yet it seemed rather weak to run away.
"Let's fetch Morland!" said Claudia.
The suggestion seemed a good one. Lorraine was only too content to throw herself upon masculine aid. They walked at double speed to Windy Howe, and hauled Morland from the piano. He stopped in the middle of a Brahms sonata, and offered at once to go back with them to the school.
"You see, Miss Kingsley and everybody's away, and there's only the charwoman about," explained Lorraine. "I know she'd be worse scared than ourselves if we told her."
"Right-o! I'll go and investigate," agreed Morland, rather pleased to show his courage before the girls.