When Lorraine looked back upon those few warm days in July, she decided¹ that they had contained more concentrated adventure than had been provided in the whole course of her life. Events seemed to follow quickly one upon another.  
On the day after her exciting experience at St. Cyr she went to school as usual. It was an effort to do so, for she was tired, but she had a record for punctual attendance, and did not wish to break it unless under special compulsion. To her surprise, Claudia was absent. She missed her chum, and kept looking anxiously towards the door, expecting the golden head to pop in at the eleventh hour. But nine o'clock and the roll-call came, and no sign of Claudia. Miss Turner marked her absent, and put back the book inside the desk. The girls took out their copies of Molière, in preparation for the French lesson. Miss Turner collected some papers from her desk, and walked away to instruct the Third Form on the subject of Roman history. The Sixth sat with their books before them and waited. Under ordinary circumstances Madame Bertier was punctuality personified. She was generally in the [267]schoolroom before Miss Turner made her exit. What had happened to her to-day? At twenty minutes past nine Miss Janet entered, looking flurried.
 
"I fear Madame must be unwell, as she has not come or sent a note," she explained briefly³. "You had better go on with your preparation and write your exercises. I suppose you know what to do next? Then get to work, and of course I put you on your honour as seniors to keep the silence rule."
 
Lorraine, sitting scribbling⁴ away at her desk, felt in no mood to break the rule by entering into conversation with either Dorothy or Audrey, who sat respectively to right and left of her. Her thoughts were far away from the pen which was automatically writing her exercise. What had become of Madame Bertier? Was her absence in any way connected with the events of yesterday? That was the question which kept forcing itself upon her brain. She wondered whether Miss Janet had ever harboured suspicions of the attractive Russian. She had never fallen under her sway so completely as her sister had done. Something in Miss Janet's worried expression made Lorraine think her surmise⁵ a correct one. Lorraine's French grammar went to the winds that morning, and she wrote down mistakes, which, in calmer moments, would have caused her to shudder⁶.
 
At the eleven o'clock interval⁷, Claudia walked into the cloak-room. Lorraine, who had come for her packet of lunch, greeted her with surprised enthusiasm.
 
[268]"Here you are at last! Why are you so late? I've simply loads to tell you! Do you know that Madame Bertier's never turned up to-day?"
 
"Hasn't she?" said Claudia abstractedly. "I've loads to tell you too, Lorraine. Come into the garden; I don't want anyone to overhear."
 
When they were out of reach of the ears of prying⁸ juniors, Claudia continued:
 
"I'm in dreadful trouble; that's why I'm so late. Everything's gone wrong. Yesterday afternoon I had a telegram from Morland: 'Take parcel immediately to the George'."
 
"That case that the officer lost? I always thought Morland ought to have given it back to him at once. Well! Did you go to the cave and fetch it?"
 
"I went," said Claudia slowly, "but, when I looked in the little cupboard, it wasn't there."
 
"Not there!" Lorraine's tone was horror-stricken.
 
"No. I hunted all round the cave, but it had gone, absolutely."
 
"Great Scott! What are we to do?"
 
"I don't know. I telegraphed to Morland that it was lost. I hope he won't get into trouble about it."
 
"I hope not." Lorraine's face was very grave.
 
"And to make things worse, Landry is ill in bed to-day. He's in one of his most fractious moods, and won't have anybody near him but me. I only ran down to school for a few minutes to tell you that the dispatch case is lost, then I must go back [269]to him. I've explained to Miss Janet that he's ill, and I have to nurse him. There's the bell, and you must go in. What a nuisance! Come and see me after four, if you can."
 
"I'll try. Good-bye till then."
 
Claudia and Lorraine hurried in opposite directions, the one home and the other into school. Lorraine was in a ferment⁹ of emotion. Who could possibly have taken the pocket case? Some intruder must have discovered their cave and have stolen it from the cupboard. Was it some chance tourist who had climbed up the rocks, or was it—could it be—Madame Bertier?
 
Lorraine had always suspected that Morland had told her the secret of the grotto¹⁰. What if she had gone there, found the officer's private papers, and made treasonable use of them? There were so many doubtful episodes in connection with her—the cut telephone wire; her meeting on the shore with the man arrested only yesterday as a spy, who had claimed her portrait at the Academy as that of his wife.
 
"It looks bad!" thought Lorraine. "Oh, why didn't we persuade Morland to give that wretched case back at once to his captain? What will he do when he gets Claudia's telegram?"
 
The answer to this question came later on in the day. She was walking back to school at a quarter past two that afternoon, when just by the windmill she met Morland himself on a motor bicycle. He dismounted at once.
 
"Lorraine! The very person in all the world I [270]want to see. I say, I'm going to ask to leave the bike at the windmill here, then will you walk up the hill with me?"
 
"It's nearly school time!" demurred¹¹ Lorraine.
 
"Hang school for once! I tell you I must talk to you. I'm in the most awful mess I've ever got into in my life. Is it true what Claudia telegraphed? Is that pocket book really gone from the grotto?"
 
He spoke¹² rapidly, catching¹³ his breath. Lorraine felt that, as in the case of yesterday, school must yield to weightier matters. She could not desert Morland now for the sake of a botany class. His business was urgent.
 
"Leave your bike then, and I'll come," she consented.
 
So they walked up the hill together towards Windy Howe, and he poured out his story.
 
"It seems there were most important papers in that pocket case," he confided¹⁵. "The captain's kicked up an awful shindy at losing them. He's inquired and advertised, and put it into the hands of the police. At first I was like Brer Rabbit, I just 'lay low and said nuffin', and chuckled¹⁶ to think I was leading him such a dance. Then one of the chaps told me he'd heard that a coast-guard at Porthkeverne had seen a Tommy picking something up on the road. I can tell you that made me sit up. I'd forgotten we were close to that wretched coast-guard station. I twigged¹⁷ in a flash that I was in the greatest danger of discovery. Blake would remember passing me on the moor¹⁸. I stood aside and saluted¹⁹. There was no other Tommy near. [271]Lorraine, if they fix this on to me I shall be court-martialled! I tell you I simply can't face it!"
 
It seemed indeed the most desperate problem with which they had ever dealt. Unless the case were found, ruin stared Morland in the face. Captain Blake, strictest of martinets, would not be likely to overlook so grave an offence.
 
"How did you manage to come over here to-day?" asked Lorraine.
 
"Pitched it strong about urgent business and got a few extra hours off, borrowed a motor-bike and pelted²⁰ here for all I was worth. I felt I didn't care whether I broke my neck or not."
 
"Oh, Morland!"
 
"Well, I tell you I didn't! I rode part of the way at sixty miles an hour, and I whizzed down that long hill to St. Cyr simply like a hurricane. Look here, I don't want to show up at home for fear Dad or Violet ask questions. What's to be done?"
 
"Wait at the bottom of the orchard²¹ and I'll run up to the house and fetch Claudia. She's at home to-day nursing Landry, who's in bed."
 
"You mascot²²! The very thing!"
 
Leaving Morland sitting under the elder bushes by the orchard gate, Lorraine made her way into the garden, and, finding one of the numerous little Castletons playing about, despatched her with a message to Claudia. The latter came out at once, Lorraine explained hurriedly, and the two girls, with some difficulty evading²³ the curiosity of Beata, Romola and Madox, whisked down a side path into [272]the orchard, and joined Morland. They held a very agitated²⁴ council of three under the elder bushes.
 
"Are you certain the case isn't there?" urged Morland.
 
"Absolutely. I hunted for half an hour round the cave," declared Claudia.
 
"Then who's taken it? If it's some chance tourist who's got it, it may be returned."
 
Lorraine shook her head.
 
"I'm terribly afraid it's Madame Bertier. I believe she's mixed up in a very queer piece of business here. I want to tell you what happened yesterday."
 
As Lorraine recounted her adventures at St. Cyr, and the connection of the foreigner, whom she had helped to identify, with the fascinating Russian, Morland's face darkened.
 
"Great Heavens! Was the woman a spy after all?" he groaned²⁵. "It's the limit! What an infernal ass¹⁴ I've been! If she's caught with those papers on her, and they're traced to me, I'm done for—once and for all! Look here, I'm going out to the cave to have one last hunt for the case. It might have slipped behind something. Will you girls come with me?"
 
"What's the use? I know we shan't find it," said Claudia. "Besides, I can't leave Landry. He's in bed, and very troublesome. He talks rubbish the whole time, mostly about you, Morland! He keeps suddenly laughing and saying he's stopped your going to the war, and isn't it clever of him, but he gets angry if I ask how, [273]and shouts out that it's his secret and he won't tell me. Violet's fed up with him. I left her in his room, but if I'm not quick back, she'll be sending one of the children to hunt for me."
 
Morland rose hurriedly.
 
"I'd best scoot before the kids find me out. Lorraine, will you come?"
 
It seemed cruel to desert the poor boy at such a pinch, so Lorraine consented, but by............