"There's a lot of sense in Pam's notion, Mother," he said, "Auntie A. is no more and no less than the White Queen in Alice Through the Looking-glass--with just as much sense. She's an old dear, we all know--but she'll give the thing to Charles to eat as soon as not; or hand it to a beggar in mistake for sixpence! She doesn't know the difference between her own hat and a church hassock."
"Darling," expostulated Mrs. Romilly, "is it as bad as that?"
"Well, Mum--you know Auntie A. I vote for the Police Station at Ramsworthy. Let me take it there."
"I think we ought to try Crown Hill first," said his mother, quietly persistent, as always, now the idea had once lodged in her brain. "Who'll go?"
A wild impulse rushed into Pamela's brain. Should she offer to take it, and return it to its rightful owner, trusting to the fact that Miss Ashington would never remember whether she had received it or not? But the thought occurred only to be rejected. It wouldn't do at all. It would be horrid, and after all, suppose the brooch was given to Auntie A., all she had to do was to tell the Countess, who could write to Sir Marmaduke Shard and explain that the strange jewel was hers. That was simple enough.
When the party dispersed after breakfast Pamela felt better. The path seemed less encumbered. She decided to write to the Countess and to take the letter herself and leave it at the gate. Miss Chance and Hughie conveyed the precious parcel to Crown Hill with a letter from Mrs. Romilly, and the other two went off to the bay to overhaul Messenger for a grand clean up and polish.
After several attempts Pamela wrote a note that satisfied her.
"Your safety pin brooch has been found on the Beak cliff and sent to Miss Adelaide Ashington at Crown Hill. Because the initials are 'A.A.' my mother thinks it must be hers or Lady Shard's. If you apply to them, no doubt you can get it back.--P".
Having read this once or twice and finding it met the case, Pamela folded the note neatly, sealed it with her own little silver seal, and went out. She did not go straight up the road to Woodrising, but across the valley, round through Crown Hill park, into the woods at the inland end, and down the hill from the station.
Finding the road clear she rang the gate bell with vigour, handed the message to Mrs. Trewby, with the sentence, "no answer, say, please," and departed--not down the road past Fuchsia Cottage, but back up towards Folly Ho, and over the hill behind on to the Bell Ridge above the church, and so home, down the steep to the Bell House--in time for lunch. The only person she met was Mr. John Badger of Champles, a large and heavy man with the smallest possible twinkling eyes. There was no harm in Mr. Badger--no harm at all, he was a kind man, but he had one weakness and that was gossip. The largeness of his body was the very opposite extreme to the size of his mind--which could not well have been smaller. He was driving sheep from one fenced bit of his fields to another--there was not much for them to eat on the Bell Ridge Downs and they had to be kept to measured allowances or they would have wandered away to look for something better.