"I know it was silly, but…'
"Silly?" said Charles. "Call a spade a spade for once. You go through the opening, drop bracelets about, shout to Peter to come and have a look at what you've found, as though it were a sovereign left over from before the war, and then you're surprised the Monk grabs you. I don't blame him, poor chap. As for Peter - can you beat it? If his face was different he'd be cut out for the hero in a popular thriller. He knew Margaret had been pinched, but did he get his revolver? Not a bit of it! After making enough noise on the panel to bring up half a hundred monks, he bursts in, all full of heroism, and very properly gets knocked on the head."
"Well, I'd like to know what you'd have done in my place," Peter said.
"I should at least have remembered the planchette," Charles said.
Celia interposed as Peter was about to retort. "No, don't bother to answer him, Peter. Come up to bed. You must both be worn out."
Accordingly they all went upstairs, and in spite of the fact that Margaret felt she would not be able to close her eyes, so wide-awake did she feel, she dropped into a dreamless sleep almost as soon as her head had touched the pillow.
She awoke four hours later, feeling rather heavyeyed, but not in the least inclined to stay in bed. She wondered whether it would be safe to venture out of her room, and at that moment Celia cautiously looked in.
"Oh, you're awake! Darling, will you have breakfast in bed?"
"No, rather not!" Margaret said, getting up. "Where's Jane? Is it all right for me to go and have a bath?"
"My dear, it's absolutely providential! She's apparently so scared by the news of your disappearance, which Flinders seems to be zealously spreading round the village, that she hasn't come at all! Her father turned up at eight with a feeble excuse, and we're quite safe. I told Mrs. Bowers we'd have breakfast at half-past nine. I'll go and see if Charles is out of the bathroom yet." She withdrew, and Margaret collected her towels and sponges, and prepared to follow her.