ence was immense.

"But where is Chrissie Lang?" asked everybody when the performance was
over.

Nobody knew. Since Marjorie had parted from her in the dormitory she had
not been seen. Neither teachers, girls, nurses, nor servants could give
any report of her. She simply seemed to have disappeared. Mrs. Morrison
questioned everyone likely to know of her movements, but obtained no
satisfaction. Her cubicle in No. 9 Dormitory was unoccupied that night.
At breakfast next morning the sole topic of conversation was: "What has
become of Chrissie Lang?"

"Mrs. Morrison thinks she must have run away, and she's telephoning to
the police," Winifrede told Marjorie in confidence, when the latter,
anxious to unburden herself, sought the head girl's study. "I can't see
that it's your fault in any way. Chrissie was absurd to show such
temper, and it certainly was no reason for going off. I'm afraid there
must be something else at the bottom of it all."

"But what?"

"Ah, that's just the question!"

Marjorie was very much upset and disturbed. She could scarcely keep her
attention on her classes that morning. "Where has Chrissie gone, and
why?" she kept asking herself. At dinner-time there was still no news of
the truant. It was rumoured that Mrs. Morrison had telegraphed to Mrs.
Lang, and had received no reply. The Principal looked anxious and
worried. She felt responsible for the safety of her missing pupil.

Early in the afternoon, Marjorie, wishing to be alone, took a stroll
down the dingle. It was a favourite haunt of Chrissie's, who had often
sat reading beside the little brook. Marjorie walked to the very stone
that had been her usual seat. The sharpenings of a lead pencil were
still there, and lying at the edge of the water was a crumpled-up piece
of paper. Marjorie picked it up and smoothed it out. It was in
Chrissie's writing, and contained a list of details in connection with
tanks and guns, also particulars of the Redferne munition works and the
Belgian colony there, and several other pieces of information in
connection with the war. She stared at it in consternation. A sudden
light began to break in upon her mind.

"Good heavens! Was it Chrissie after all who was the spy?" she choked.

The idea seemed too horrible. It was she herself who had so readily
answered all her chum's questions in regard to these things. In doing
so, had she not been betraying her own country? Once the clue was given,
all sorts of suspici