"Get my torch, Midget, and snap it on while I look. We don't want a candle, it might be seen outside--or inside, for that matter; we don't need an audience."
Hughie did as he was asked, and stood by her side, bringing the little bright light to bear on the parcel she held. It was very small. A longish foreign envelope, containing apparently some little heavy things of irregular size that felt like pebbles. Pamela tore it open. Certainly pebbles, little gravel ones not even washed, were in the envelope, and a folded bit of paper.
Within the note were these words, written in a pointed narrow hand, not like that usual with schoolgirls.
"I wish to speak with you. Come to the Clawtol wood at 8.30 to-morrow."
There was no signature.
Pamela read it twice, then she said in a very wideawake tone:
"Cheek!"
Hughie watched her with interest. He was not able to master handwriting yet, but his wits were keen.
"Is it the other girl, Pam?" he asked.
"Yes."