In her love-making with the Lavender Lady Avelyn had, truth to tell, rather neglected Pamela. Their friendship had always been more or less of a spasmodic character. They often met on the road on Monday mornings, and travelled in the same compartment of the train, and they would return from Harlingden together on Friday afternoons. Generally they talked the ordinary schoolgirl chatter about Silverside doings. Pamela rarely mentioned her own concerns. Very occasionally she would make some reference to past adventures in America, but about her present home she was extremely reserved. She seemed to shut up and freeze at once at the slightest allusion to Moss Cottage.

Though she had accepted several invitations to Walden, she had never asked Avelyn to tea for a return visit. There was an air of mystery about her that increased rather than diminished with their further acquaintance. To Avelyn she always seemed like a disinherited princess. She was sure that Pamela brooded over the fact that the Lyngates estate should have been hers. Her uncle's name was never mentioned between them.

Since the evening when he had tried to cut down the barrier over the brook at Walden, the Watsons had seen little of Mr. Hockheimer. He had not again attempted to interfere with their property. He seemed to spend a good deal of his time in London, but made flying visits every week to the Hall. People in the neighbourhood gave him the cold shoulder. Though he was generous in subscribing to local charities, he was certainly not popular. The general feeling was one of mistrust. Nothing certain had ever been brought against him, but the fact of his German nationality remained. It was whispered that but for influence in high quarters he would have been interned.

Whether Mr. Hockheimer was or was not aware of the rumours that were being circulated in his disfavour it was impossible to tell. He never came to church, seldom appeared in the village. He was more strict than ever against trespassing in his woods, though other landlords in the district had been lax in that respect since the beginning of the war. The Watsons disliked him so much that they avoided him whenever possible; if they saw him walking along the village street they would dive down a side lane or run up into the churchyard. They thoroughly pitied Pamela for being dependent upon him.

Since the memorable morning when she had climbed over the palings into the garden, and had hidden inside the stable, Avelyn had never visited Moss Cottage. She was sure that she had then almost surprised some secret. Pamela, indeed, had been on the very verge of telling her. Her friend's confidential mood had passed, however, and a wall of reserve had taken its place.

One Saturday Avelyn, taking out her home work, made the horrible discovery that she had left her history in her locker at school. To go to Miss Thompson's class with an unprepared lesson meant trouble. The only way out of the difficulty was to walk over and borrow from Pamela, who, though in a lower form, used the same textbook for history.

This time she did not venture to climb over the palings, but knocked at the door in orthodox fashion. It was opened by Pamela herself, who beamed a welcome.

"Come in! I'm all alone. Mother's gone to the station. I was just getting horribly tired of being by myself. It's perfectly lovely to see you! My history? Yes, you shall have it, certainly. I've learnt my lesson. But come in and have a chat. I was sitting in the garden. Shall we go out there?"

Avelyn much preferred the garden to the rather dark little sitting-room. The girls went to a shady corner under a tree, where Pamela had spread a rug and cushions. They settled themselves down leisurely and began to talk.

"What's this you've got here?" asked Avelyn presently, taking up a Prayer Book that was lying on the rug, opened at the last page. "Are you studying the Table of Articles? You surely don't have to learn that in your Scripture lesson? We did the 'Book of Common Prayer' last term, but we didn't take the Articles."

"I'm not looking at those," said Pamela. "I'm looking at the Table of Kindred and Affinity. I want to find out whom a man may marry and whom he mayn't. He mustn't marry his wife's daughter's daughter, or his brother's son's wife, or his mother's brother's wife, but may he marry his deceased wife's deceased brother's wife?"

"Goodness, child, I'm sure I don't know! Why do you ask?"

Pamela shut the Prayer Book with a bang.

"It's Uncle!" she said vehemently. "He's behaving in such an extraordinary way! Oh, Ave! Do you know, I believe he's trying to make up to Mother! Don't look so incredulous! I mean it! I must tell somebody, or I shall burst! I've kept it all in long enough. Too long! Ave, did the boys ever tell you about that letter they found inside the Latin dictionary? I can see by your face that they did. Well, I brought it home and laid it on the table, and, before Mother had time to look at it, it disappeared. Uncle had been here, and I know he took it! He must certainly have done so."

"He did! I can tell you that," returned Avelyn, and she confided to her friend what her brothers had witnessed in the wood, how Mr. Hockheimer had been on the point of burning the paper when Spring-heeled Jack had appeared and run away with it. Pamela listened with intense eagerness. "That explains so much!" she gasped. "I don't know what was in the letter, but I imagine it may have been my grandfather's will. If it was, and he left the estate to Daddy, no wonder Uncle Fritz tried to burn it. He didn't quite succeed, and this bogy-spectre-highwayman, or whatever he is, has scooted off with it. Uncle knows it's still in existence, and that any day it might be produced, and he might be turned out of the Hall. He's trying to guard against that, and he's playing a very deep game. He thinks that if he were to marry Mother, as he married poor Aunt Dora, he'd secure the estate to himself a second time."

"Does your Mother like him?"

"Not really. I believe she's frightened of him. He makes her do anything he tells her. You don't know how dreadfully worried I am about it. If I had him for a stepfather I should run away. I'd rather join the gipsies than live with him. Oh, if we could only get on the track of that paper! Has nothing more been heard of Spring-heeled Jack?"

"Nothing at all since the autumn. He appeared just for a short time, and then vanished again."

"And no one ever knew who he was?"

"Not a soul."

Pamela gave a long sigh.

"He has the secret—whatever it is. Who knows whether I'll ever find it. Ave," here Pamela lowered her voice, "I've got a secret too! I've been longing and yearning to tell it to you—a dozen times I've had it on the tip of my tongue, and then I've felt afraid and stopped. I kept waiting, hoping to find out more, but I can't find out by myself. I want help."

"What do you mean?"

"Come, and I'll show you. We have the place to ourselves to-day. Uncle is in town. I saw him going to the station this morning, so he's not likely to burst in and interrupt us."

Pamela rose and led the way down the garden to the stable where Avelyn had surprised her before. It was locked, but she took a key from a hiding-place under a stone, and undid the padlock. She motioned her friend to go up the ladder, and followed her. The room above was a bare loft. It was not quite empty, however, for in the corner stood a small table, with an object on it that looked like the receiver of a telephone.

"Come here!" said Pamela.

She took up the instrument and placed it on her friend's head. It had a band which fitted across the forehead, and a receiver for each ear. A cord connected it with the wall.

"Do you hear anything?" asked Pamela.

"Yes, a sort of humming."

Pamela smiled significantly, and put back the instrument on the table.

"What is it?" breathed Avelyn, rather awed.

"Wireless messages. Uncle spends hours here."

"Do you mean to say this is a wireless station?"

Pamela nodded.

"But they're not allowed."

"I know that perfectly well."

"If it were found out he could be arrested." "He deserves to be. Sometimes I wish he were."

"Does your mother know?"

"No, I'm sure she doesn't. She never comes to the stable, and if she did she wouldn't climb the ladder. Sometimes Uncle is very keen about the messages. He makes me stay here, with the receiver on my head, listening for them, while he sits in the cottage talking to Mother, and drinking brandy which he brings in a flask. When I hear that humming noise I have to go and tell him, and he flies down to the stable."

"Can you understand the messages?"

"No. It's something like ordinary telegraphy, I suppose, and I don't know the code. I wish I did."

"I can't imagine how this wireless apparatus hasn't been discovered!"

"It's so well hidden. The poles go right up among the boughs of the tree."

"I don't think you ought to keep this secret any longer, Pam."

"No more do I, but I've never dared to tell it to a soul before. Uncle would kill me if he knew I'd brought you in here to-day. What must I do?"

Avelyn hesitated.

"I'd like to ask somebody. Could you come home with me this afternoon? Can you leave the house?"

"I'd lock the door and put the key under a stone, where Mother would find it if she gets back first. Ave, I'm just about desperate! I'd do anything to end the life I'm living now. There's treachery of some sort going on, I believe, and I'm being wound up in it without my knowledge and against my will. My father gave his life for his country. Is his daughter to help to betray it? Never! Never in this world! I'd suffer torture first. Oh, I wish I were braver! Sometimes I'm a terrible coward, and I feel so horribly afraid of Uncle Fritz. You don't know how he frightens me. My nerves are all on edge."

"Come home with me, dear," said Avelyn soothingly. "If you'll let me ask Mother, I believe she'd know what we ought to do."

Pamela was very much upset, and seemed almost hysterical. Her hands trembled, and she wiped tell-tale drops from her eyes. She climbed down the ladder, padlocked the stable door again, went into the house for her hat and the history book, locked the front door, hid the key in the rockery, and pronounced herself ready to start.

Avelyn was glad to have persuaded her so easily. Her own mind was in a whirl. To have found a wireless telegraphy installation in the old stable was indeed a discovery which would very seriously implicate Mr. Hockheimer. The responsibility of the knowledge was too great to be borne only by two schoolgirls; it must be shared by some older and wiser person.

The friends walked silently along the road. At the corner by the oak wood they met David and Anthony. At sight of them the boys came running forward in much excitement.

"We've just seen Spring-heeled Jack again!" they cried. This was indeed a piece of news. Spring-heeled Jack, who had vanished from the neighbourhood since the autumn! For the moment it even threw wireless telegraphy into the shade.

"Where? When?" exclaimed the girls eagerly.

"Just a minute ago. We were up the bank there after a butterfly, and he came bounding past and jumped into the wood."

"Which way did he go?"

Anthony pointed a stumpy finger to indicate the direction. Pamela set her teeth.

"I'm going after him," she announced.

The Watsons stared at her amazed. Spring-heeled Jack had been the terror of the village, and Pamela was not altogether conspicuous for courage.

"I must find him! I must!" she continued. "It's the only chance of getting that lost paper!" And climbing over the palings she scrambled into the wood among the bracken.

The Watsons were not a family to desert a chum. David and Anthony were after her in half a second, and Avelyn followed as quickly as her feminine skirts allowed. Her heart was beating violently. Whether the object of their search was human or spectral he was equally a cause for alarm. They could hear sounds higher up the wood. Pamela was running fast and so were the boys.

There was a sudden, unearthly yell, and a dark, masked figure came bounding towards them in a series of wild leaps. Man, monkey, or bogy, it jumped with incredible speed. The boys set up a shout and dashed towards it, but it gave an enormous leap and sprang past them. It would have got clean away but for a tangled bramble bush that broke its course. The next moment it was sprawling among the bracken. The boys rushed upon it, and while David pinned it down Anthony tore off the black mask. To their utter amazement it revealed the well-known features of their friend, Captain Harper.

At the sight of their blank faces he burst out laughing.

"The game's up at last!" he hinnied. "I saw it was you kids, and I couldn't resist giving you a scare. I don't know that I meant to let you find me out, though. If I hadn't tumbled I'd have got off. What have I been masquerading like this for?" He suddenly looked grave. "That's a little business of my own. I wanted to find out something, and I thought I'd raise a rumour that might keep the woods clear of ordinary trespassers. How did I do it? Easy enough, some theatrical togs I had by me, and springs on my heels."

"We've seen you before in this rig-out," volunteered Anthony.

"When?"

"When you pounced on Mr. Hockheimer and stopped him burning a letter."

"We were there watching," echoed David.

"Oh, have you got the paper still? It was mine!" cried Pamela breathlessly.

It was Captain Harper's turn to be astonished.

"Yours! What had it to do with you?" he asked sharply. Pamela and Avelyn explained between them. He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it as he listened.

"This is quite another development," he commented. "Part of the paper was burnt. I couldn't understand the drift of it."

"Have you got it still?" besought Pamela.

"No, I gave it to my superior officer. But if it is of such importance as you say I could get it examined on your behalf. I'll speak to my Colonel about it. It's worth investigating."

"Pam!" said Avelyn impulsively, bending her head and whispering in her friend's ear, "do you know, I believe it would be the best thing in the world to tell Captain Harper what you've told me this afternoon. He'd know better even than Mother what you ought to do."

"You tell him—I daren't," faltered Pamela.

If Captain Harper had been astonished before, he was doubly amazed now.

"Great Scott! It's the very thing I've been on the scent of for this six months!" he ejaculated. "We guessed there was a wireless somewhere over here, but never could locate it. And to think I owe it to you kids! Pamela, you're a true loyal little Englishwoman! I think you'll find you'll pretty soon be rid of that precious uncle of yours."

"What must I do about it?" asked Pamela, who was half crying.

Captain Harper did not at once reply. He seemed cogitating. Then his face cleared.

"Nothing at present," he replied. "I pledge you all on your word of honour to mention this business to nobody. We'll leave the wireless where it is, and get the messages if possible—that's our game! Pamela, could you manage to learn the Morse code if I taught you?"

"I'd try."

"I'll undertake you'd soon learn it. Then what you've got to do is to listen at the receiver and report to us. I can tell you, you may be working an uncommonly important little bit of business. Don't cry, child! The fellow is only your uncle by marriage. He's no blood relation of yours. Think of your father! You're doing your duty by your country as every true-born Britisher ought."