Half buried in the sand was a small box of highly polished wood.
“Yes, I am afraid it’s just a case of King George’s men marched up the hill and then marched down again,” said Nancy.
“And I got two grass stains when I fell down just now,” added Billie, looking ruefully at her white serge skirt.
“My shoes are full of sand, and I’ve soiled my white stockings,” went on Nancy. “Look,” she cried suddenly; “look, Billie, here it is right under our noses. I suppose that little bay tree hid it from us on our way down. I ask the beautiful lady’s pardon; but I still can’t imagine why her own friends couldn’t have got it for her just as well as we could.”
Half buried in the sand was a small box of highly polished wood, six or eight inches square. Two broad bands of silver reinforced it at the back and sides, and a little silver combination lock took the place of the keyhole. In the middle of the box was a small, round silver plate, on which a coat of arms was engraved.
“This is the box, all right enough,” said Billie, examining it with much curiosity. “Now let’s return it to that mysterious lovely person and go on our ways, rejoicing.”
But they were not destined to get rid of the box that day nor for many another day. Just as they reached the top of the cliff they heard the whirring of a motor engine. A car was just starting from the grove. Two men were on the front seat, while the owner of the box was lying almost helplessly in the back seat, her veil thrown back and her face white and drawn. There was no top to the car and the girls could see her plainly. They thought she must have fainted, but when Nancy called: “Wait, please wait,” she raised herself quickly, put her finger to her lips in token of silence and dropped a card into the road.
The next instant the strange motor car was lost to sight around the curve. Billie picked up the card with some irritation.