look close, so you can
describe the person."

"I undertake watchdogging in all its branches," said Clo. "Ta, ta!"

"I count on you!" were Kit's last words at the top of the steps.

"Bet your life you can!" the "kid" called after her. But as Kit ran
downstairs, without stopping to look round, Clo dashed to her own open
window. In a moment Kit's parasol went bobbing along the street. The
coast was clear. Kit's manner made it certain that she had left the
pearls behind.

Violet would not come up for the two breakfast trays for a long time
yet. Kit's opinion of the key was the same as that already formed by
Clo, and the girl was wild to test it. She snatched her own key from its
lock, to try it in Kit's door. It went in, but stopped at the critical
turn. There were two more rooms on this floor; a small one opposite
Clo's, tenanted by a young man who went to work at seven o'clock; and
another still smaller, used as a storeroom--a refuge for trunks,
dust-pans, and brooms. The early bird never locked his door, but his key
fell short of success.

The storeroom key remained. It did not fail. It turned all the way round
in the lock, and Kit's door opened.

Clo's was shut and locked, in case Violet should break her rule and come
too soon.

Not only did the girl expect to find the pearls, but Chuff's key, and
she hoped to telephone if necessary, before making her "bolt." Wonderful
that both these chances should fall together!

Clo knew that the pearls were kept in a drawer; but Kit would not go out
and leave them in so obvious a place. Nevertheless, Clo began by looking
through the drawers, of which there were six.

Churn's evening clothes hung from a hook on the wall; there was nothing
in the pockets; nothing in the shoes which stood underneath except a
pair of socks. Other hiding-place there was none, save the bed; and it
was there that Clo expected to find the pearls.

Kit had made the bed, and neatly patted the two ill-matched pillows into
shape. Clo stripped off the unbleached covers of these pillows and
looked for some sign that the ticking had been ripped open. There was a
patch on the larger pillow. One end of this patch was unsewn and held in
place with a pin. Underneath it something hard could be felt with the
hand. Clo undid the pin, and thrusting in her hand pulled out a packet
made of a red silk handkerchief tied round with gold string from a
confectioner's. Clo squeezed the tight folds of silk. They held