Upstairs in her little room she felt too sleepy to do anything much about tidying up, although Mrs. Warrender had looked rather disapprovingly at the muddle when she came to say good night.

After she had turned out the light, Penny drew back the flowered curtains and pushed the window open wider. She shivered as a gust of salty wind from the marshes and the sea shook the leaves of the withy tree in the garden below, and then she jumped into bed.

She seemed to go to sleep at once, and it was odd that she should wake so suddenly. She switched on the bedside light and saw that she had only been asleep for two hours. She sat up in surprise. Everything was quiet. No board creaked. The wind had not risen, and only by straining her ears could she catch the faint and drowsy murmur of the sea. Then she remembered! With all the excitement today she had forgotten to write in her diary. Penny had to put up with a lot of teasing both at home and at school about her diary, but a daily entry was one of the few rules she set herself.

She remembered now that she had not risked packing her diary, but had put it in her shoulder bag in which their sandwiches and a few other treasures had been carried.

But what had she done with it?

In her aunt's sitting-room, of course! She remembered now slipping it off and dropping it on the floor behind the chair. It was a nuisance, but she would have to go and get it because she knew she would not sleep again now until she had written something about this wonderful and exciting day.

She wished she had a torch or could find a switch on the wall. The hotel seemed empty and was very quiet, and she felt her heart thudding as she wondered how she was going to find her way back to her room. Then she had an awful feeling that she was going in the wrong direction, turned back and came at last to her own little staircase again. At least she hoped it was her staircase. She had just decided to leave the diary until the morning when she distinctly heard a sound somewhere below her.

Her heart thumped louder than ever and she felt the palms of her hands grow damp. The sound came again! A sort of quiet hiss or whir. Then she realized it was the sound of a telephone dial, and at the same time she noticed the faint colour of reflected light at the end of the corridor. She crept along with her hands on the wall, turned sharp left, nearly stumbled over a low step and found herself on a landing looking down another staircase into the lounge.

In the far corner, by a shaded light, was the figure of a strange man, with his back to her, busy at the telephone.