d. "_It's somebody else's case!_"

* * * * *

When, twenty-four hours later, a letter arrived from Piers' aunt,
inviting us all to tea, we accepted, not because we felt inclined to go
junketing, but because we did not wish to seem rude.

We were in a peevish mood. For this the loss of our forbidden fruit
was indirectly responsible. The immediate cause of our ill-humour was
the exasperating reflection that we were debarred from taking even
those simple steps which lead to the restoration of lost luggage. We
stood in the shoes of a burglar who has been robbed of his spoils. As
like as not, our precious uniform-case was lying at the station,
waiting to be claimed. Yet we dared not inquire, because of what our
inquiries might bring forth. Of course the authorities might be
totally ignorant of its contents. But then, again, they might not. It
was a risk we could not take. The chance that, by identifying our
property, we might be at once accusing and convicting ourselves of
smuggling a very large quantity of tobacco, was too considerable.
There were moments when Jonah and I, goaded to desperation, felt ready
to risk penal servitude and 'have a dart' at the bait. But Berry would
not permit us. If things went wrong, he declared, he was bound to be
involved--hideously. And he'd had enough of thin ice. The wonder was,
his hair wasn't white.... By the time we had swung him round, our own
courage had evaporated.

As for Piers, no one of us had seen or heard from him for five whole
days. Ever since his extraordinary outburst upon the verandah, the boy
had made himself scarce. While we were all perplexed, Jill took his
absence to heart. She mourned openly. She missed her playfellow
bitterly, and said as much. And when three days had gone by and the
last post had brought no word of him, she burst into tears. The next
morning there were rings beneath her great grey eyes. She was far too
artless to pretend that she did not care. Such a course of action
never occurred to her. She had no idea, of course, that she was in
love.

All the same, when upon Wednesday afternoon the cars were waiting to
take us to tea with Mrs. Waterbrook, my cousin leaned over the
banisters with a bright red spot upon either cheek.

"I say," she cried, "I'm not coming."

One and all, we stared up amazedly.

"Not coming?" cried Daphne. "But, darling----"

Jill stamped her small foot.

"N-no," she said