"Well, if you ask me, she's up to something," said Avice with conviction.

"How d'you mean?" Wilfred looked up curiously.

"Lots of things. She looks all different. First of all--look how red she is all the time, and the excited look in her eyes."

"That's all look--look!" jeered her brother. "Girls always have those rotten ideas about nothing at all. Just because Cecilia's got a bit sunburnt, and because she's havin' an easy time 'cause Mater's away--"

"Oh, you think because you're a boy, you know everything," retorted his sister hotly. "You just listen, and see if I've got rotten ideas. Did you know, she's kept her room locked for days?"

"Well--if she has? That's nothing."

"You shut up and let me go on. Yesterday she forgot, and left it open while she was down talking to Cook, and I slipped in. And there was one of her great big trunks, that she always keeps in the box room, half-packed with her things. I nicked this necklace out of it, too,"

said Avice with triumph, producing a quaint string of Italian beads.

"Good business," said Wilfred with an appreciative grin. "Did she catch you?"

"Not she--I can tell you I didn't wait long, 'cause she always comes upstairs as quick as lightning. She did come, too, in an awful hurry, and locked up the room--I only got out of the way just in time. And every minute she could, yesterday, she was up there."

"Well, I don't see much in that."

"No, but look here, I got another chance of looking into her room this morning, and that trunk was gone!"

"Gone back to the box-room," said Wilfred with superiority.

"No, it wasn't--I went up and looked. And her other trunk's not there, either."

"Oh, you're dreaming! I bet she'd just pushed it under her bed."

"Pooh!" said Avice. "That great big trunk wouldn't go under her bed--you know she's only got a little stretcher-bed. And I tell you they'd both gone. I bet you anything she's going to run away."

"Where'd she run to?"

"Oh, somewhere with Bob."

"Well, let her go."

"Yes, and Mater 'd have to spend ever so much on a new governess; and most likely she'd be a worse beast than Cecilia. And no governess we ever had did half the things Mater makes Cecilia do to help in the house. Why she's like an extra servant, as well as a governess. Mater told me all about it. I tell you what, Wilfred, it's our business to see she doesn't run away."

"All right," said Wilfred, "I suppose we'd better watch out. When do you reckon she'd go? People generally run away at night, don't they?"

"Well, anyone can see she's just taking advantage of Mater being away.

Yes, of course she'd go at night. She might have sent her boxes away yesterday by a carrier--I bet that horrid little Eliza would help her.

Ten to one she means to sneak out to-night--she knows Mater will be home to-morrow."

"What a sell it will be for her if we catch her!" said Wilfred with glee. "I say, what about telling Pater?"

Avice looked sour.

"I did tell him something yesterday, and he only growled at me. At least, I said, 'Do you think Cecilia would ever be likely to run away?'

And he just stared at me, and then he said, 'Not your business if she does.' So I'm not going to speak to him again."

"Well, we'd better take it in turns to watch her," Wilfred said. "After dark's the most likely time, I suppose, but we'd better be on the look-out all the time. Where's she now, by the way?"

"Why, I don't know. I say, she's been away a long time--I never noticed," said Avice, in sudden alarm. "She said we were to go on with our French exercises--and that's ages ago."

"Come on and see," said Wilfred jumping up.

Outside the room he caught Avice by the arm.

"Kick off your shoes," he said. "We'll sneak up to her room."

They crept up silently. The door of Cecilia's room was ajar. Peeping in, they saw her standing before her tiny looking-gla.s.s, pinning on her hat. A small parcel lay upon her bed, with her gloves and parasol. The children were very silent--but something struck upon the girl's tightly strung nerves. She turned swiftly and saw them.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "How dare you come into my room?"

"Why, we thought you were lost," said Avice. "We finished our French ages ago. Where are you going?"

"I am going out," said Cecilia. "I'll set you more work to do while I'm away."

"But where are you going?"

"That has nothing to do with you. Come down to the schoolroom."

Avice held her brother firmly by the arm. Together they blocked the way.

"Mater wouldn't let you go out in lesson time. I believe you're going to run away!"

A red spot flamed in each of Cecilia's white cheeks.

"Stand out of my way, you little horrors!" she said angrily. She caught up her things and advanced upon them.

"I'm hanged if you're going," said Wilfred doggedly. He pushed her back violently, and slammed the door.

The attic doors in Lancaster Gate, like those of many London houses, were fitted with heavy iron bolts on the outside--a precaution against burglars who might enter the house by rooms ordinarily little used. It was not the first time that Cecilia had been bolted into her room by her step-brother. When first she came, it had been a favourite pastime to make her a prisoner--until their mother had made it an offence carrying a heavy penalty, since it had often occurred that Cecilia was locked up when she happened to need her.

But this time Cecilia heard the heavy bolt shoot home with feelings of despair. It was already time for her to leave the house. Bob would be waiting for her in Bond Street, impatiently scanning each crowd of pa.s.sengers that the lift shot up from underground. She battered at the door wildly.

"Let me out! How dare you, Wilfred? Let me out at once!"

Wilfred laughed disagreeably.

"Not if we know it--eh, Avice?"

"Rather not," said Avice. "What d'you think Mater'd say to us if we let you run away?"

"Nonsense!" said Cecilia, controlling her voice with difficulty. "I was going to meet Bob."