He conducted Tony up the stairs, to the first landing, where he tapped cautiously on the second door he came to. It was opened at once by a secretive looking lady, who appeared to be lunching on pins, and at the same moment Molly's voice remarked with its usual pleasant distinctness: "If that's you, Tony, come along in."
Complying with the request Tony found himself in a small, brightly lit apartment, the principal furniture of which appeared to be a vast mirror, a long narrow dressing-table, a comfortable easy-chair, and an inspiriting collection of foamy undergarments, suspended from a row of pegs.
In the chair sat Molly. She was dressed in the simple and practical costume of a milkmaid, as visualized by producers of musical comedy. It consisted of a charmingly décolletté creation of white muslin and blue ribbon, completed by a large "baby" hat, a skirt that just reached her knees, white silk stockings and high-heeled shoes.
"Oh, Tony!" she exclaimed; "thank goodness you've come." Then turning to the dresser she added kindly: "You can shove off, Jane. I want to talk to him alone."
Acting on the hint the lady of the pins withdrew from the room, and hardly waiting until the door had closed behind her, Molly jumped up from the chair.
"Have you anything to tell me, Tony?" she asked in a voice that shook a little with excitement. "I know nothing yet except what I've seen in the paper. I have tried to ring you up twice, but——"
"How long have you got now?" inquired Tony.
She glanced at the little silver clock on the dressing-table.
"About ten minutes. Then I have to go on and sing a song, and after that there's the interval."
"I can tell you everything I know in ten minutes," said Tony, "if there are no interruptions."
Molly moved quickly to the door and turned the key in the lock.
"Fire ahead," she observed.
A week earlier Tony would have found it quite impossible to crowd the somewhat eventful history of the last twenty-four hours into the short time at his disposal. Practice, however, had been improving his powers as a story-teller, and without omitting any really important detail, he actually accomplished the feat with something like a minute and a half to spare.
Molly was certainly an excellent audience. Standing motionless at the door, her lower lip caught tight between her white teeth, she listened to him with rapt attention that never wavered or varied. Even when he had finished she still remained silent for a moment; then with a sudden movement she came towards him, her blue eyes shining with excitement.
"Tony," she said, speaking with a sort of forced calmness, "are you absolutely serious about following them? Do you really mean to sail for Braxa to-night?"
"I do," replied Tony with quite unusual sobriety. "You see I have just found out that I am really fond of Isabel, and I don't see any other possible chance of getting her back."
"Do you think this is a possible chance?" She put the question with an earnestness that robbed it of any suggestion of sarcasm.
"Well, it's a bit thin," admitted Tony frankly, "but after all one never knows." He paused. "To a certain extent, Molly," he added, "it depends upon you."
She drew in her breath sharply. "Me?"
Tony nodded. "You're my trump card," he said encouragingly. "You know that signed pass our friend Peter was obliging enough to give you—the one which he said would take you anywhere if he ever got back to Livadia as king?"
"Yes," said Molly slowly.
"Well, if you're not using it for the moment," continued Tony, "I'd be awful obliged if you'd lend it to me. If it will really do half of what he said it would it might come in devilish handy."
There was a moment's pause, and then a clatter of footsteps came hurrying down the passage outside, and someone rapped loudly on the door.
"Miss Monk, please," shouted a shrill and penetrating voice.
Molly looked round in the direction of the summons.
"All right, Charles," she called out tranquilly: then turning back she took a momentary glance at herself in the long mirror that hung against the wall.
"I shall be up again in a minute or two, Tony," she said, skilfully smoothing out a disordered ribbon. "Have a cigarette, and don't worry yourself about the pass. That will be quite all right."
"You'll lend it to me?" exclaimed Tony gratefully.
Molly paused on the threshold and looked back at him with a sort of mischievous elation.
"No," she said. "I won't lend it to you; but I'll bring it with me."
And with this somewhat staggering announcement she opened the door and disappeared from view.
Whatever effect her remark may have had upon Tony, he appeared to have recovered from it fairly successfully by the time that she returned. At all events she found him reclining in the easy-chair, enveloped in cigarette smoke, and looking precisely as comfortable and unruffled as when she had left him.
"Was your parting shot serious, Molly?" he asked in that pleasantly serene voice of his.
As he spoke he got up from the chair, and Molly, who was a little out of breath, dropped into the vacant seat.
"It was," she said; "dead, absolute serious. If you want Peter's letter you'll have to take me with you to Livadia." She paused and looked up at him. "Say yes, Tony," she added almost fiercely. "Don't you see that I mean it."
Tony who was gazing down at her with a sort of dispassionate admiration, nodded his head.
"I see you mean it all right, Molly," he said quietly; "but it's a bit of a bomb-shell you know. This won't be exactly a healthy trip if we happen to mess things up."
Molly leaned across to the dressing-table and helped herself to a cigarette.
"Tony dear," she observed. "I know I'm a musical comedy actress, but it doesn't necessarily follow that I'm a complete idiot. I understand perfectly that we're taking on about as risky and hopeless a job as any one could possibly tackle. If Da Freitas finds out I should think the odds are about twenty to one that neither of us will ever come back." She struck a match and lighted her cigarette. "Now are you satisfied?" she inquired.
"Well, you seem to have a fairly sound grip of the situation," admitted Tony. "Still that doesn't make it any the less of a large order." He paused. "Good Lord, Molly, why it's madness—stark staring madness!"
"I don't see it," returned Molly obstinately. "A wife's place is by her husband's side—especially when he has run away with another woman."
In spite of himself Tony laughed. "But supposing we reach Livadia—suppose we actually get into Portriga—what can you do even then?"
"What's the good of asking me that?" demanded Molly. "I don't know any more than you do—not till the time comes. The only thing is—" She broke off, as though not quite sure how to continue.
"Well?" said Tony encouragingly.
"It's just an idea—nothing else at present, but—but you have told me several times that this girl and I are almost exactly alike."
Tony nodded. He was staring at her with a sudden expression of freshly aroused interest.
"Well, don't you see?" Molly threw away her cigarette and rose to her feet. "Surely it's just possible that somehow—by some sort of a chance—we might be able to make use of this to help us." She laughed almost hysterically. "Oh, I know it sounds wild and mad, but what notion have you got that's any better?"
Tony took a couple of paces to the door, and back to where she was standing.
"By Jove, it's an idea, Molly!" he said slowly. "If we could get you there without being found out——"
"I have thought of that," she interrupted. "I was thinking of it all the time I was on the stage." She paused. "Tony—you remember that song I was singing a couple of years ago—the one in which I used to dress up as a curate?"
He nodded.
"Well, I've still got the things I wore—the clothes and the wig and the spectacles—in fact the whole get-up. It was so good that once, just for a joke, I went out into the street in it. I walked the whole way down the Strand, and not a soul spotted that there was anything wrong."
The old gleam of mischievous amusement leaped into Tony's eyes.
"Good Lord, Molly!" he said. "And you propose to take the trip—in those?"
"Why not?" she demanded. "I can carry it through all right—really and truly I can. After all there's no reason you couldn't have a curate on board, is there?"
"None at all," said Tony. "Oh, none at all." He leaned against the wall and began to laugh, gently and joyously.
Molly faced him with shining eyes. "Then you'll take me?" she exclaimed.
Again Tony nodded his head. "I'll take you, Molly," he answered, "if it's only for the sake of seeing Guy's face."
There was another clatter and shuffle of footsteps outside, and the voice of the call-boy came echoing down the passage.
"Beginners, Act two, please!"
Tony stopped laughing. "How about your work? How about your part here at the theatre?" he asked.
"Oh, damn the theatre," said Molly simply. "I've got a very good understudy, and they'll have to put up with her." She glanced again rapidly at the clock. "Listen, Tony—we've got exactly two minutes, and then I must start changing. I shall have to have the dresser in, and we can't talk in front of her. Tell me now—right away—just what you want me to do."
For a moment Tony reflected rapidly.
"I think the best plan will be for you to motor down with me," he said. "I can send Guy and Bugg in one car with Jennings, and call for you at your place with the other. I shan't tell Guy anything about it until you're safe on board."
"Why?" asked Molly. "Do you think he'll mind?"
"I am sure he will," said Tony cheerfully. "But it will be too late for him to do anything then unless he tries to throw you into the sea." He paused. "Can you be ready by nine-thirty sharp?"
Molly nodded. "I won't keep you waiting," she said.
There was a knock at the door, and having been granted permission to enter, the secretive looking dresser reappeared on the scene.
"Beg pardon for hinterrupting, Miss," she observed apologetically, "but it's time you was startin' to change."
"Quite right, Jane," said Molly. She turned to Tony and held out her hand. "Well, thanks for coming and looking me up, Tony," she added. "See you again quite soon, I hope."
Tony raised her hand and kissed the tip of her fingers. "Why, yes," he said; "we'll probably run across each other before long."
* * * * * * *
It was just twenty minutes later when Lady Jocelyn's pretty parlourmaid opened the door of the drawing-room at Chester Square, and in a slightly agitated voice, for such a well trained retainer, announced the arrival of Sir Antony Conway.
Tony, who had followed hard upon her heels, came straight up to the sofa, where, as usual, his aunt was sitting. She looked older and very frail, and her thin hands trembled a little as she stretched them to greet him.
"Tony!" she exclaimed, "my dear boy!"
He sat down beside her, holding her hands in his.
"Aunt Fanny," he said severely; "you have been breaking my rules. You know that you're never allowed to look unhappy or worried."
"It wasn't altogether my fault it happened, Tony," she said. "I would have given my stupid useless old life twice over to have stopped it."
In a tender, half jesting fashion he slipped his arm round her. "You mustn't talk like that, Aunt Fanny dear," he said. "In fact you mustn't talk at all. You must just sit still and listen to me. There is no time for anything else."
Lady Jocelyn clasped her hands in her lap. "Go on," she said quietly.
All the way from the Gaiety to the house, Tony had been pondering in his mind just how much of the truth it would be advisable to tell. Knowing his aunt, he was not afraid that she would try to dissuade him from his purpose, however dangerous it might appear; he was merely anxious to present it in as favourable a light as possible, so as to spare her any avoidable anxiety.
With this idea he omitted all reference to the attempt upon theBetty, confining himself entirely to a description of Congosta's visit. He repeated the latter's story of what had happened to Isabel, and went on to relate how the plan for a possible rescue had been promptly and happily conceived. By means of a little judicious colouring he was able to make it appear a far more feasible proposition than when it had originally presented itself in the hall of Goodman's Rest.
Of his subsequent visit to the Gaiety he said nothing at all. Molly's presence on board theBettyin the guise of a curate might or might not be of assistance, but from the point of view of inspiring confidence in the enterprise, it seemed to be one of those features which were better suppressed.
Lady Jocelyn listened to him without interruption. Her face betrayed nothing of what she was feeling, and for a moment after he had finished speaking, Tony was under the impression that his well meant efforts had been entirely successful. Then, with her faint kindly smile, she laid her hand upon his sleeve.
"Thank you, Tony dear," she said. "It was good of you to come and tell me all this, and it was nicer still of you to have told it in the way you have. Of course I don't really believe you. I am quite sure it's a much more dangerous business than you make out, but as long as there is the shadow of a chance of helping Isabel I should be the last to try and dissuade you. Go, Tony, and do what you can for her; and God bless you and help you."
There was a short pause, and then Tony bent forward and kissed her.
"I am glad you love Isabel," he said simply.
"She is the sweetest and bravest girl I have ever known," answered Lady Jocelyn. "If you can't save her from this marriage, Tony, I think it will break my heart."
Tony got up from the sofa, and buttoned his coat.
"Don't you worry about that, Aunt Fanny," he said. "Peter won't get her—not if I have to shoot him at the altar rails."
"That," said Captain Simmons, "is Braxa."
He pointed out ahead to where the desolate-looking sandy coast that they had been skirting for some hours rose suddenly into an irregular line of hills and cliffs.
"If you have a look through these," he added, "you'll be able to see the entrance to the bay."
Tony, who was standing beside him on the bridge, lightly clad in blue silk pyjamas and a Norfolk jacket, took the proffered glasses and levelled them in the direction indicated. In the bright early morning sunshine he could plainly make out the small opening in the coastline, behind which a number of pink and white houses could be seen straggling picturesquely up the hillside.
"It looks a very nice place," he said generously. "How long do you think it will take us to get there?"
Captain Simmons glanced at his watch. "We shall make the point in about three quarters of an hour," he said. "We ought to be at anchor by half-past nine."
"In that case," said Tony, "I shall go and have some breakfast. I shall be much too excited to eat eggs and bacon when we're once in the harbour."
He left the bridge, and after pausing for a moment on the warm deck to take another appreciative glance round at the sunlit expanse of blue sky and foam-flecked sea, he pursued his leisurely way down the main companion to his cabin.
A quarter of an hour later he emerged again looking very cool and comfortable in a well cut suit of grey flannels. Nothing would ever induce him to adopt a more conventional form of yachting costume; his own explanation being that white duck and blue serge invariably made him sea-sick.
As he passed along the passage on his way to the saloon, a cabin door swung open and someone stepped out almost into his arms. It was Molly, but any one who could have recognized the fact without being told so must have possessed an extraordinary acuteness of perception.
As far as outward appearance went she was as sound and convincing a curate as the most fastidious vicar could possibly demand. Even the cleverest actresses, when they dress up as men, nearly always betray the fact in a dozen ways, but except for a certain delicacy of feature, there was absolutely nothing about her to arouse the faintest suspicion. With her gold-rimmed spectacles and her smoothly brushed and amazingly natural wig, she looked a perfect specimen of that rather fragile type of young clergyman, who is apt to stir a tender and half maternal passion in the hearts of middle-aged spinsters.
Tony, who had had forty-eight hours in which to become accustomed to this masterpiece, stopped and gazed at her in fresh and profound admiration.
"It's marvellous, Molly," he observed, "absolutely marvellous! Every time I look at you I feel exactly as if I was going to say grace."
She laughed and in a rather unclerical fashion, slid her arm through his.
"Well, come along and do it then," she said. "I'm quite ready for breakfast."
They made their way to the saloon, where they found Guy already established, and the steward in the very act of bringing in the coffee. Guy's face was a little pale—the result of a slight attack of seasickness on the previous day, and disapproval which had been stamped firmly on it ever since he had found out that Molly was to accompany them on the trip.
"Do you know," said Tony, as they seated themselves at the table, "that in an hour's time we shall be at anchor in Braxa Harbour?"
There was an exclamation from both his companions.
"I didn't realize we were as near as that," said Guy.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" demanded Molly. "I should have gone up on deck to have a look."
"I thought you had better have your breakfast first," said Tony. "It's very bad for one to get excited on an empty tummy." He helped himself handsomely to eggs and bacon. "Besides we must be very careful how we show ourselves at present. The skipper says there's a coast-guard station at the entrance to the bay, and if it's still in working order they have probably got us under observation already."
"Do you think they'll want to come and search us when we reach the harbour?" asked Guy a little apprehensively.
Tony shrugged his shoulders. "That's what they're there for," he said; "but when there's a revolution and two or three civil wars buzzing about, people are apt to get a little careless in their work. Anyhow I'm not worrying myself about that. Our dear old friend Colonel Saltero is expecting us, and you can be quite sure he doesn't mean to have his cartridges mopped up by any one else." He paused to refill his cup. "What I'm thinking about is Jimmy," he added. "It will make all the difference in the world if Jimmy can only manage to get on board before the Colonel does. We shall have some sort of a notion where we are then."
"I shouldn't think there was much chance of it," observed Molly.
"You never know," said Tony hopefully. "There's a lot of resource about Jimmy. A money-lender once spent six weeks trying to serve a writ on him, and he couldn't do it even then."
There was a knock at the cabin door, and in answer to Tony's "Come in," one of the crew presented himself on the threshold.
"If you please, Sir Ant'ny," he began, "the Captain's compliments, and there's a party o' the name o' Dale signallin' to us from a small cutter to starboard. Says 'e's a friend o' yours, sir. The Capt'n wants to know if we shall stop and pick him up."
There was a dramatic pause, and then Tony wheeled round in his chair so as to face the speaker.
"Pick him up!" he repeated. "Why I should think so, Jackson. Pick him' up tenderly—touch him with care. Tell Captain Simmons I'll be up on deck myself as soon as I've finished this piece of bacon."
With a grin and a salute, the sailor departed, and turning back to the table, Tony gazed triumphantly at Guy and Molly.
"Well, my children," he observed; "what did uncle tell you?"
Molly pushed back her plate. "It was a put-up job, Tony," she said, "you knew he was there."
"I didn't," retorted Tony, "on my honour. There wasn't a boat of any kind in sight when I was on the bridge. I feel it's a sign that Providence approves of us."
Molly looked at him and saw that he was speaking the truth.
"Well, we've started," she said with a little triumphant laugh. "Can I come up with you?"
Tony shook his head. "I think you had better lie low for the present," he answered. "You're the Queen of Trumps in this game, Molly, and we don't want to play you too soon."
Molly looked a trifle disappointed, but she raised no objection. "All right," she said obediently. "I'll save myself up for the King."
Tony rose from the table. "I'll bring Jimmy down as soon as he's on board," he said. "You had better get out the whisky and soda. He's sure to be hungry."
He left the cabin, followed by Guy, and making his way up the companion, stepped out on to the smooth and spotless deck.
TheBettyhad slowed down almost completely and only a faint ripple in her wake showed that she was still moving. Hove to, a little distance ahead, lay a small cutter of about seven tons, from which a dinghy with a couple of men on board was just putting out.
They rowed rapidly across the intervening water so as to cut off the yacht, and timing it to perfection reached their destination just as she was practically ceasing to move. An accommodation ladder had been let down over the side, and Jimmy, a stout and happy looking young gentleman who was crouching in the bows, grabbed hold of it neatly as it came alongside. The next moment he had scrambled on board, and the boat with its solitary occupant was drifting away astern.
"Once aboard the lugger—" observed the newcomer in an extraordinarily soft voice, and then with a faint chuckle he stepped forward and clasped Tony's outstretched hand. "Hope I haven't come too early?" he added cheerfully.
Tony wrung his hand, and taking a pace backwards surveyed him with an affectionate approval.
"My dear Jimmy," he said. "You come like the flowers in May."
"And I may mention," added Jimmy, transferring his grip to Guy, "that I come after a prolonged and distressing drought."
Tony smiled happily. "I have ordered breakfast for you," he said. "We will go straight down, as soon as I have introduced you to the skipper."
Captain Simmons, who had left the bridge, was advancing along the deck towards them.
"This is my friend Jimmy Dale, Captain," said Tony. "He is one of Portriga's most distinguished citizens."
"That so?" said the skipper extending a huge brown paw. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Dale. Perhaps you can tell us what's going on ashore, and whether we're likely to hit any trouble if we run straight in to Braxa."
"I shouldn't think so," replied Jimmy in his soft and pleasing voice. "As far as I know all the able-bodied officials in Braxa have pushed off to Portriga to join in the looting. I believe there are one or two policemen left, but I don't suppose they are awake yet."
"We won't disturb 'em," said the Captain. "We'll come in nice and quiet, and let 'em have their nap out. Do you know the harbour at all, Mr. Dale?"
"Pretty fair," said Jimmy. "I've been out fishing in it a good number of times."
"Well, perhaps when we get round the Head you wouldn't mind coming up on the bridge. I've never been in here before, and there might be one or two points I'd be glad of a little information about."
"I'll bring him along," said Tony. "How soon will he be wanted?"
"Oh, there's no hurry," replied the Captain genially. "Plenty o' time for a good breakfast. We shan't be off the Head for another twenty minutes yet."
He turned to retrace his steps, and after offering Jimmy a cigarette, Tony started to lead the way below.
Molly was still sitting at the table when they entered the saloon, and at the unexpected sight Jimmy's good-natured countenance betrayed a momentary surprise and embarrassment.
"Ah, I forgot to tell you we had a friend with us," said Tony easily. "Let me introduce you. The Reverend Mr. Monk—my old pal Jimmy Dale."
They shook hands gravely—an action which proved nearly too much even for the sedate Guy, who turned away hastily to hide his expression.
"Dear old James," said Tony. "It's so nice to see you again. Have some eggs and bacon?"
Jimmy sat down at the table and automatically pulled the whisky and soda towards himself.
"I'll have anything that's going," he replied obligingly. "But what I should like best of all are a few explanations. At present I feel as if I was taking a small part in a cinematograph film."
He squirted a modest supply of soda into his tumbler, and accepted the well supplied plate which Molly handed across to him.
"You shall have everything in a minute if you are good and patient," said Tony encouragingly. "To start with, however, there are one or two questions that we want to ask you. You mayn't be aware of it, Jimmy, but at the present moment you are a very valuable and important person."
"I felt it," said Jimmy; "I felt it directly I stepped on board." He took a deep and apparently much welcome drink, and set down the tumbler.
"We want you to tell us," went on Tony, "exactly what's been happening in Livadia since the day before yesterday. We know all about the beginning of the Revolution, but we are not quite up-to-date with the last part."
"The day before yesterday," repeated Jimmy thoughtfully. "Let's see—that was Thursday, wasn't it? There's been such a lot of blood and noise and free drinks about that I've got a bit mixed up in my dates." He paused to take a large mouthful of egg and bacon. "Thursday," he continued a little indistinctly, "was just about the brightest and breeziest day we've had. It was the morning that Almaida made his big attack on the Royalists, and they were scrapping from eight o'clock until three or four in the afternoon. They would have gone on longer, only all the wine shops had been cleaned out by then and everybody was so thirsty that they had to stop."
"And what happened?" asked Guy. "Who got the best of it?"
"Well, I suppose it was more or less of a drawn battle," returned Jimmy indifferently. "Almaida managed to cross the river and bag the railway station and the Town Hall, but as they'd both been burned to the ground I don't suppose he got much for his trouble. It was quite a merry little romp while it lasted though."
Tony reached across for the whisky and helped himself to a companion peg.
"What did you do in the great war, Daddy?" he inquired.
"Me!" said Jimmy. "Oh, I was a very good little boy. I hoisted the Union Jack, and stopped in my own house, and when any one tried the front door I fired at them out of the window. I don't think I hit anybody—I'm such a putrid shot with a revolver."
"Well, you did your best," said Tony consolingly, "and that's all that really matters."
Jimmy shook his head. "I used up a lot of cartridges," he objected, "and they cost no end of money out here. Besides I should like to have slaughtered just one Livadian. One doesn't often get the chance of doing such a good turn to humanity."
"But how about the Revolution?" broke in Guy a trifle impatiently. "What happened after the fighting came to an end?"
"Oh, the fighting didn't come to an end," returned Jimmy. "It was only the battle. People went on shooting each other privately all night, and next morning there was some sort of an attempt at another general engagement. It was nothing like Thursday, however, because both sides were running short of ammunition. However, I thought it seemed healthier indoors, so I stayed where I was until about three o'clock, when I suddenly noticed that the shooting was beginning to stop, and that the people were gathering together into groups and jawing and jabbering like a lot of monkeys. I guessed that something had happened, so I loaded up my revolver and shoved on a hat, and tootled out into the sunshine."
He paused to select a cigar from the case which Tony was holding out to him.
"Almost the first person I ran into," he went on, "was a man I happened to know. I asked him what was up, and he told me that there was a report all over the town that Pedro and Da Freitas had just arrived from England with Don Francisco's daughter, and that she and the King were going to be married at once. Well, of course, that put the hat on everything so to speak. Whatever Almaida's private notions may have been, he was nominally fighting to make this girl Queen of Livadia, and if she was really going to be married to Pedro, the whole thing was nothing but a damned farce." He coughed and turned to Molly. "Sorry, Padre," he added apologetically. "Forgot you were here."
Molly inclined her head gravely, and once again Guy turned away to conceal his emotions.
"Go on, James," said Tony in a reassuring voice. "You needn't be afraid of shocking Mr. Monk. He has been chaplain to a bishop."
"There's not so very much more to tell," said Jimmy. "At first, of course, most of Almaida's people thought it was just a bluff on the part of the Royalists—a sort of trick to try and upset 'em and then catch 'em on the hop. By six o'clock, however, posters and bills began to be shoved up all over the place. No one seemed to know who was doing it, but there they were as large as life, saying that the marriage would come off in the Cathedral on Sunday morning, and calling upon all the Franciscans to lay down their arms. I was coming back home, when I found one of them stuck up on the post-office wall, almost exactly opposite my house. I stopped to have a look, and while I was reading it a chap came sidling down the street and pulled up alongside of me. He was a pretty average looking sort of scoundrel, with a dirty bandage round his head instead of a cap. I could see that he was squinting at me out of the corner of his eye, and I was just wondering whether I'd better move on quietly or plug him hard on the jaw, when he suddenly asked me in a hoarse whisper if I was the Señor James Dale. I told him I was, and then to my utter astonishment he gabbled out some message to the effect that you were coming to Livadia and that theBettywas expected at Braxa early this morning. It fairly took my breath away for a minute, and before I could ask him a single question some more people came round the corner of the street, and he skidded off like a rat when it sees a terrier."
Tony laughed softly. "Have another drink, James," he suggested. "I'm sorry to have given you these nervous shocks, but we were rather pressed for time."
"Oh, I rallied all right," said Jimmy, helping himself to a second peg. "It was a bit of a thunderbolt for a moment, but knowing your taste in amusements I realized at once that it was just the sort of time you would choose for a pleasure trip to Livadia. Of course I hadn't a notion how you had managed to get the message through to me, but after all that didn't really matter. The great thing was to get to Braxa in time to meet you."
He paused to refresh himself.
"How did you manage it?" inquired Guy. "I suppose there are no trains running or anything of that sort."
"The only thing that's running in Livadia at the present moment is blood," returned Jimmy cheerfully. "Fortunately for me, however, I'd got a car. I sneaked it out of the garage quietly on Monday when the trouble started, and I had it locked up in a sort of out-house at the back of my place. I knew, of course, that I hadn't a dog's chance of getting out of the town with it on my own, so without fooling around I went straight off to the British Consulate, which is quite close to where I live. I managed to get hold of Watson himself, and he gave me a letter saying that I was a British subject, and if anybody interfered with me all sorts of giddy things would happen to him. Of course it wasn't exactly a gilt-edged security in a time like this: still it was the best thing I could get, and I thought that with the help of a bit of bluff it might pull me through." He paused. "Well, to cut a long yarn short, it did. I had a little trouble on the road, but I reached Braxa at last—about three o'clock this morning—and knocked up an old boy that I used to go fishing with. I explained the situation to him—more or less—and we came to the conclusion that the best plan would be to pick you up outside the harbour. He helped me stuff away the car in an old shed he's got up at the top of the jetty; then we just tumbled into his boat and—and—well, here we are." He leaned back and surveyed his companions. "And now," he added placidly, "perhaps you'll be kind enough to let me know what the devil it all means."
There was a brief pause.
"I'll tell him if you like," offered Guy.
Tony glanced at his watch. "I think you had better leave it to me," he said. "We shall be wanted on deck in a few minutes, and I've had such a lot of practice, I'm sure I can tell it quicker than any one else." He turned to Jimmy. "It's an exciting story, James; but you must listen very carefully and not interrupt me."
Mr. Dale crossed his legs. "Let her rip," he observed tranquilly.
Once more, and this time with a masterly brevity that put all his previous efforts in the shade, Tony proceeded to relate the series of stimulating incidents which had sprung from his chance encounter with Isabel outside the Long Acre flats. Owing to his highly condensed method it was impossible to avoid a certain obscurity about some of the details, but obedient to his instructions Jimmy received it all in unquestioning silence.
For a moment, even after Tony had finished, he still remained mute; then with a sudden soft little chuckle he got up from his chair, and thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
"My sainted Aunt!" he observed. "If ever there was a purple picnic on this earth it seems to me we've struck it." He paused, as though overwhelmed with the magnificence of the situation. "And this girl," he went on slowly, "this girl who's so like the Princess? Do you really mean to say that you have brought her with you—that you've got her here—on board?"
"We have," replied Tony, "very much so."
Jimmy glanced round the cabin. "Well, where is she? What have you done with her?"
Tony turned his seat in the direction of the Rev. Mr. Monk.
"Get up, Molly," he said. "Get up and make the gentleman a nice curtsey."
With her most bewitching smile, Molly rose to her feet, and picking up the skirts of her coat in either hand, sank gracefully towards the floor.
For an instant, for just one poignant instant, Jimmy remained gazing at her in open-mouthed incredulity; and then with an apologetic rap on the door the seaman Jackson again presented himself on the threshold.
"If you please, Sir Ant'ny—the Capt'n's compliments, and he'd be glad to see you and the other gentleman on the bridge."
It would have been difficult to find anything more restful looking than Braxa Harbour, as it lay flooded in the morning sunshine. Whatever bloodthirsty events might have taken place further inland, they had certainly failed to produce any visible effect upon this tranquil little fishing village.
From the bridge of theBetty, which had come to anchor a couple of hundred yards off the end of the long stone jetty, there was nothing to be seen that in any way broke the agreeable atmosphere of peace and harmony. Except for a few old boats, the sandy beach was absolutely deserted, while the pink and white houses, that clambered up the hill at the back, seemed pleasantly asleep in the shadow of their surrounding trees. Round a low headland on the right, a small river meandered out into the bay, its tranquil current being plainly visible against the clear blue of the sea water.
"I've seen livelier looking places," observed Captain Simmons critically, "but I can't say I ever saw a much more dangerous harbour for a big yacht, not if it should come on to blow from the sou'-west."
Tony leaned meditatively over the rail and inspected the prospect.
"I'm afraid we have arrived a little early," he said. "The Mayor and Corporation don't seem to be up yet."
"Oh, there's never much of a rush here in the morning," remarked Jimmy, who was standing beside him. "I once saw a dog on the beach before breakfast, but I think he'd been out all night." He tossed the stump of his cigar over the side and watched it drop down into the water. "What do we do now?" he inquired.
"Well, considering that we've come by invitation," answered Tony, "I should say the best thing was to sit tight and admire the view. Somebody will probably notice that we've arrived, sooner or later."
With a sudden movement the Captain raised his glasses, and levelled them on the point away to the right where the river ran out into the bay.
"Seems to me," he observed, "that somebody's noticed it already."
He pointed to the headland, and as he did so both his companions suddenly caught sight of something low and black in the water that was moving slowly out of the mouth of the river.
"It's a petrol launch," said the skipper, "and unless I'm much mistaken they're coming along to say good-morning to us."
With quiet deliberation Tony surveyed the advancing vessel, which was already swinging round in the direction of theBetty.
"I can't see any one yet," he announced, "but it's pretty sure to be Colonel Saltero. Jimmy, you'd better go downstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom with Molly. I don't want him to know that we're a passenger steamer.'
"Right you are," said Jimmy with alacrity. "Come and tell us when it's all over."
He climbed down the bridge ladder, whistling tunefully to himself, and turning back towards the approaching launch, Tony again scrutinized it carefully through his glasses.
As it drew nearer he was able to see that there were three men on board, and amongst them he soon made out the square-shouldered, aggressive figure of Colonel Saltero. That distinguished warrior was seated in the stern, and even from a considerable distance one could detect the air of truculent authority with which he was directing operations.
Tony snapped his glasses together and turned to the skipper.
"I think I had better go down on the deck, and prepare to make pretty speeches," he said. "I suppose they will be able to come alongside all right."
Captain Simmons eyed his advancing visitors with an air of mistrustful calculation.
"I wouldn't go as far as that," he observed grimly, "but I dare say they'll manage it somehow or other."
"Never mind," said Tony, "paint's cheap."
He descended in leisurely fashion to the deck, and walked across to the starboard side, where the members of the crew had collected together awaiting the skipper's orders.
A little apart from the others, and leaning over the rail, stood Mr. McEwen and "Tiger" Bugg. For some obscure reason these two had struck up an immediate and firm friendship, with the result that Bugg had spent practically the entire trip in the breezy atmosphere of the engine-room.
Tony strolled up and joined them.
"Guid-morning to ye, Sir Antony," observed the chief engineer removing his pipe.
"Good-morning, Mr. McEwen," said Tony. "Having a look at the visitors?"
There was a pause.
"I was wondering," said Mr. McEwen softly, "whether yon swab who put that nine-inch spanner in my cylinder micht be amang the pairty."
Tony shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he replied regretfully.
There was a sudden exclamation of interest from Bugg.
"Why, look, sir! See 'im, sir? It's the cross-eyed bloke. The one I knocked aht in Long Acre."
He pointed excitedly towards the approaching launch, above which the sombre scowl of Colonel Saltero was now plainly visible to the naked eye.
"You're quite right, Bugg," said Tony. "It's the same gentleman, but he is coming to see me this time in a nice friendly spirit, so perhaps you had better keep out of the way. He mightn't like to be reminded of that push in the face."
With his usual ready obedience Bugg faded from the scene, and as he did so the voice of Captain Simmons came curtly and incisively from the bridge.
"Stand by with the fender, and look out for our paint."
A couple of the crew, under the direction of the second officer, hurried to fulfil the order, while two others climbed over the rail, ready to drop down and assist in the operation.
Shutting off her engine as she approached, the launch came swirling round in a half circle. There was a brief moment of strained suspense, and then skilfully avoiding the fender, she bumped heavily alongside, in a fashion that brought a cry of anguish from Captain Simmons' lips. The two waiting sailors dropped nimbly on to her deck, and commenced to make her fast, and the next moment, flushed but triumphant, Colonel Saltero was mounting the accommodation ladder.
As he emerged over the top, Tony stepped forward to meet him.
"How d'you do, Colonel?" he observed in a friendly voice. "Glad to see you again."
Clicking his heels together, Colonel Saltero made him a stiff military bow.
"Permit me, Sir Antony," he replied, "to welcome you to Livadia."
"Thanks very much," said Tony. Then pausing for a moment to allow his visitor to recover a perpendicular position, he added hospitably: "Come along down and have a whisky."
The invitation did not seem to be altogether unwelcome, but like a true soldier the Colonel's first considerations were evidently for his duty.
"You have brought the cartridges?" he demanded, with a swift and slightly suspicious glance round the deck.
"Rather," said Tony, "any amount of 'em." He turned to the second officer. "You had better start getting those boxes on board the launch right away," he added. "Colonel Saltero and I are going below to have a little chat."
He led the way down the companion to his private cabin, and ushering his guest in closed the door behind them.
"Well, you got Congosta's message all right then," he said, going to the cupboard and getting out the whisky and soda. "You know what an unholy mess I've managed to make of things."
The Colonel, who was standing in a stiff and military attitude, made a slight gesture of assent.
"Sir Antony!" he said, "I am a soldier, and it is my habit to speak plain words. I will not hide my opinion that with regard to the Princess you have failed us badly."
Tony splashed out a full-handed allowance of old Glenlivet and sprinkled it carefully with soda.
"Go on," he said encouragingly. "Say exactly what you like."
He handed the glass to the Colonel, who took a long and apparently satisfactory drink.
"At the same time," continued the latter, "I do not wish to be ungrateful. If what Señor Congosta tells me is true, you have done your best to make up for your fault. These cartridges—" he set down the empty tumbler—"these cartridges, which I understand you have presented to the army, may yet be the means of saving Livadia."
"That's good," observed Tony. "But how are you going to get them to Portriga?"
The Colonel made a gesture with his hand. "There is no difficulty. The river which you see runs up within two miles of the town, and both banks are strongly held by our men."
"What about the people here—the coast-guards and police? Are they on your side?"
Colonel Saltero smiled sombrely. "There are no coast-guards left," he said. "As for the police—" he shrugged his shoulders—"some say that the officer in command here is a friend of Da Freitas, but I do not think he will interfere with us."
Tony stretched out his hand, and picking up his guest's empty glass commenced to refill it.
"That sounds all right as far as it goes," he remarked; "but it seems to me we are up against another pretty stiff problem. If Pedro marries the Princess, as I suppose he will, it rather knocks the bottom out of your game—doesn't it?"
For a moment the Colonel hesitated. Despite the gift of the cartridges, some faint suspicion of Tony's entire good faith seemed still to linger in his mind.
"We are not without our plans," he replied cautiously.
Without appearing to notice the implied mistrust Tony filled the tumbler and handed it back to him.
"Of course not," he remarked cheerfully. "You and Señor Congosta are not the sort of people to leave things to chance. I was only wondering if I couldn't be of any further help to you. It was all my fault the Princess was captured, and I want to do everything I can to make up for it."
This frank and simple speech, or else a second long draught of Glenlivet which the Colonel promptly poured down his throat, seemed to have a slightly mellowing effect upon that reserved warrior.
"We have a plan," he repeated, "but I will admit to you, Sir Antony, that there is much danger. Even now it is known everywhere that the Princess is in Da Freitas' hands, and already there are those who say 'what is the use of more fighting?' If we had money——"
"Money!" exclaimed Tony. "My dear chap, why didn't you say so before?" He crossed again to the cupboard, and stooping down took out two fat white bags, which he placed upon the table with an agreeable chink.
"I thought it just possible you might be short of cash," he explained, "so I brought a couple of thousand along with me."
The Colonel's eyes glistened.
"In gold?" he asked hoarsely.
Tony loosened the mouth of one of the bags, and tipped out a little shining stream of yellow coins.
"All in the best English sovereigns," he said, gathering them up and replacing them again. Then, with a graceful gesture, he pushed both bags across the table. "Take them, Colonel," he added. "Take them from me as a small gift towards the freedom of Livadia."
For a moment the Colonel was too overcome to speak.
"Sir Antony," he exclaimed at last, "you must give me your pardon. Congosta was right in what he said. I did you a great wrong in ever doubting your honour." He raised his half empty glass. "I drink," he said, "to the saviour of my country."
Tony bowed. "That," he replied, "is a title which I think already belongs to you—or Señor Congosta."
There was a dramatic pause, and then the Colonel set down his glass.
"I will tell you," he said bluntly, "what it is that we propose to do. It is right that you should know." With an instinctive glance round the cabin, as if to make quite certain that there were no eavesdroppers, he advanced towards the table. "In the afternoon, yesterday," he went on, "Pedro and Da Freitas landed in Portriga. They have brought the Princess and the Count de Sé with them. Already there are notices, placed up all over the town, saying that on Sunday morning the marriage will take place in the Cathedral."
Tony looked at him with an expression of amazement. "I say!" he exclaimed. "They haven't wasted much time."
"It is not in the way of Da Freitas to waste time," agreed the Colonel.
For a moment Tony remained silent. "Well, what are you going to do?" he asked. "It seems to me that unless you can stop this interesting little arrangement the whole thing's finished. You can't expect people to go on fighting for a queen who's already on the throne."
Saltero came a step closer still. "There will be no wedding," he said grimly. "By ten o'clock to-night the Princess will be in our hands."
He paused, as if to allow the statement time to sink in.
Tony indulged in a low whistle. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "How are you going to work it?"
Once more the Colonel glanced round the cabin, and then sunk his voice to a kind of low rumble, which was apparently as near as he could get to a whisper.
"We have found out that the Princess has been taken to the Château of Saint Anna. It is in the mountains, ten miles from Portriga. The Count de Saint Anna is an old friend of Pedro's father."
"Are you going to attack the place?" Tony put the question quite quietly, though his fingers had tightened a little upon the cigarette that he was holding.
The Colonel shook his head. "It is impossible. There is only one road up through the hills, and all the approaches to it are held by Da Freitas' soldiers. A hundred men could defend it against an army.'
"It sounds a bit awkward," said Tony.
Colonel Saltero smiled malevolently. "It is our good fortune," he continued, "to have had further information. We have learned that at nine o'clock to-night the Princess will be brought into the town in order that she may be ready for the ceremony in the morning. Doubtless there will be an escort—a strong escort, but all the same—" he paused and his grey eyes narrowed into a couple of dangerous looking slits—"I do not think that they will ever reach Portriga. I do not think that they will get further than the bridge at Valona."
Tony laid down his cigarette. "I hope you will be careful if there's going to be a scrap," he said anxiously. "I shouldn't like anything to happen to Isabel. She seemed rather a nice girl."
The Colonel drew himself up a little stiffly. "Our plans have been well made," he replied. "There will be no danger to the Princess. By ten o'clock she will be safe with General Almaida."
There was another and longer pause.
"If it comes off," observed Tony slowly, "it will be a nasty jar for Pedro and Da Freitas."
Once again the Colonel smiled viciously. "It will be the end," he said. "Da Freitas has staked everything upon this marriage, and if he cannot bring forward the Princess on Sunday, the whole country will know that they have been deceived. There will be risings and riots everywhere: even his own soldiers will turn against him. Then we shall attack again, and this time there will be no going back. Before night comes, Isabella will be Queen of Livadia."
He stooped forward, and gathering up the two bags of gold stepped back from the table.
"Well, it's very good of you to have told me all this," said Tony gratefully. "It has made me feel much more comfortable in my mind." He laid his hand upon the whisky bottle. "Have another drink before we go up?" he suggested.
The Colonel shook his head with some regret.
"I thank you, no," he said. "There are many things to do, and the time is short. With your permission we will return to the deck."
"And that," said Tony, leaning back in his chair, "is absolutely every damned thing that I could get out of him."
His three companions, Molly, Guy, and Jimmy, who were seated in various attitudes round the cabin table, surveyed him for a moment in deep and reflective silence.
Then Guy cleared his throat. "On the whole," he said, "I think you have managed remarkably well."
"I did my best," replied Tony modestly, "but he's a reticent blighter for a Colonel. I didn't dare pump him any further for fear that he might get suspicious. As it is I think he was half sorry he had told me as much as he had before I got him over the side."
"Well, we've collected quite a lot of interesting stuff to go on with," said Jimmy contentedly. "The great question is how are we going to use it?"
"Do you know where these two places are?" asked Tony. "The Château of Saint Anna—and the bridge at Valona?"
Jimmy nodded. "Both of 'em. There isn't a yard of this country I haven't tootled over at some time or other." He looked hopefully at Tony. "Have you got any bright notion at the back of your mind?"
"Not yet," said Tony. "I haven't had the chance of working things out. That's what I've called this Cabinet Council for." He turned to his cousin.
"What do you think about it, Guy?" he asked. "You're the eldest, so you shall speak first."
"It seems to me," said Guy deliberately, "that there is not the faintest chance of rescuing Isabel, except by the employment of violence."
There was a soft and delighted chuckle from Jimmy to which he paid no attention.
"That being so," he continued calmly, "the question resolves itself into where and how we should make the attempt. As far as I can see there is only one answer. If we can reach Valona, it's just possible that in the confusion of this attack one or other of us might manage to get away with Isabel. Of course it's much more likely that we shall all be killed, but if one chooses to mix oneself up in this sort of insane business that is an objection which one must be prepared to face."
He closed his lips tight in their customary precise line, and looked round at the assembled company.
"Thank you, Guy," said Tony. "That's just the sort of spirited speech I should have expected from one of your aggressive character." He paused. "Now, Jimmy, what have you got to say?"
Jimmy rose solemnly to his feet. "I have much pleasure," he observed, "in seconding the proposal of our honourable friend. I'm for a forward policy every time." He looked across the table. "How about the Reverend Mr. Monk?" he added. "It seems to me we ought to have asked his opinion first."
"I think," said Molly sweetly and clearly, "that it's just about the silliest suggestion I ever heard."
Guy sat up suddenly in his chair, and Jimmy, who was still standing on his feet, broke into another long chuckle of laughter.
Tony rapped the table gravely with a teaspoon.
"Order, please," he said, "order! This is no time for misplaced merriment." He turned to Molly. "Don't worry about Guy's feelings," he added kindly. "Say exactly what you think."
"I'm going to," replied Molly with brisk determination. "I'm awfully sorry if I was rude to you, Mr. Oliver; but really you know your plan's a rotter. Do you suppose that even if we got to Valona, these people would allow us to hang about there waiting for something to happen? Why, they would guess what we were up to the very moment they spotted us."
"But we know the time, roughly," protested Jimmy. "We could arrange to reach the place just when the fighting started."
"And what then?" demanded Molly scornfully. "Here you've got a large party of armed men, who are cheerfully ready to murder a whole escort in order to get hold of this girl. Do you really imagine they are going to let us waltz in and pick her up under their noses? Not likely!"
She stopped to take breath.
"I thought I had made it clear," remarked Guy a little chillingly, "that I didn't regard the suggestion as a very safe or hopeful one."
"You did," said Molly, "but you didn't go half far enough. It's a dead certain frost from the very start. We should just be committing suicide without doing any good to anybody."
Guy shrugged his shoulders. "I daresay you're right. The unfortunate point is that there's no alternative."
Molly leaned forward, her blue eyes shining with excitement.
"Yes, there is," she said quietly.
For an instant nobody spoke.
"Go on, Molly," said Tony. "We are all listening to you."
"If we can get to Valona," said Molly, speaking in a rapid and eager voice, "what is there to stop us getting to the other place—the Château of Saint Anna?"
There was another and longer pause.
"Good Lord!" remarked Jimmy, and with this non-committal observation he reseated himself at the table.
"Well?" continued Molly defiantly. "We can't do anything without running a big risk, so while we're about it we may just as well shove all our money on the best chance."
"But surely," protested Guy, "if there is an utterly hopeless——"
"Let Molly explain," said Tony. "We can criticize her afterwards."
Once again there was a brief silence.
"It's like this," said Molly. "At the present moment, so far as we know, there isn't a soul on Peter's side who has the remotest notion that we're in Livadia. That's our strongest card, and if we don't play it for all it's worth we shall be simply chucking the game away." She wheeled round on Jimmy. "Where is this Château, exactly?" she asked. "Can you get to it from here in your car without going through Portriga or the other place—Valona?"
Jimmy nodded. "We should turn off the main road up into the hills about five miles from here. The car would manage it all right, but as for getting there—" he grinned cheerfully—"well, from what the Colonel told Tony, I should think we had about as much chance as a snowflake in hell."
"You needn't worry about that part of it," returned Molly coolly. "So long as you know the road you can leave the rest to me." She put her hand into her breast pocket, and produced the thick and impressive looking half sheet of note-paper, which she had shown Tony in the flat. "If that won't get us past a few soldiers," she added, throwing it on the table, "we may as well turn the boat round now and go straight home."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Tony. "I believe you've got hold of the right idea, Molly!"
Guy looked from one to the other of them in a sort of baffled bewilderment.
"I may be very stupid," he said, "but I can't see in the least what you hope to do even if we reach the Château."
Molly drew in a long breath. "There's only one thing to do," she said slowly. "Somehow or other this Princess girl and I have got to change places. There's absolutely no other way in which we can possibly work it."
If she had suddenly placed a live bomb upon the table, Guy's face could hardly have assumed a more startled expression. Even Jimmy, who did not seem to be easily perturbed, remained staring at her for a moment with his mouth open.
"Change places!" repeated Guy at last. "Are you speaking seriously?"
"Of course I am," said Molly a little impatiently. "Don't you see how easily it could be done? According to what you all tell me, this girl and I are as like each other as two peas: but no one would guess that if they'd only seen me in this rig-out. Well, if I could get a quarter of an hour alone with her, all we should have to do would be to swap clothes, and then she could just walk out of the place instead of me." She swept a triumphant glance at the others. "It's a hundred to one nobody would notice the difference: not if she's got the pluck and sense to carry it off properly."
"I can guarantee the pluck and the sense," said Tony. "They are two things in which Isabel happens to specialize rather deeply."
"But do you mean you are ready to stop behind in her place?"
It was Jimmy who put the question.
"Certainly I am," replied Molly. "That's what I have come out here for."
He gazed at her for a moment in voiceless admiration.
"My Lord, you've got some nerve," he said. "What do you think will happen to you?"
Molly smiled pleasantly. "I think," she answered, "that I shall be respectably and properly married to Peter in the Portriga Cathedral. I don't see what the devil else they can afford to do. They have got to have a wedding, and as I'm quite ready to pretend that I'm the Princess, and nobody's ever likely to contradict it, it seems to me they'll jolly well have to make the best of it."
Tony laid down his cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
"Molly," he said, "you are as brilliant as you are beautiful. I don't believe there is any one else alive who could have thought of a notion like that when they were full of eggs and bacon."
"It's a terrific idea," admitted Jimmy, still gazing respectfully at the author. "The one great difficulty will be to fix up this interview between you and the Princess."
Molly nodded. "I know," she said. "I haven't got that part of it clear yet. You see the whole thing only came into my head quite suddenly."
"That part of it," remarked Tony in his tranquil voice, "seems to me delightfully simple and easy."
They all three turned towards him.
"We are personal friends of Peter's," he went on; "at least I am. I think I shall call myself Lord Haverstock. It's a very nice title and no one's taken it yet. Do you think it suits me, Guy?"
"Oh, go on," exclaimed Guy impatiently.
"At Peter's suggestion," continued Tony, "I have accompanied him from England in my own yacht, in order to be in at the death, so to speak. Molly here is my chaplain. All really respectable English peers travel with a private chaplain."
He paused as if for confirmation.
"I've no doubt you're right," said Jimmy gravely, "but how does that interesting fact help us?"
"Why, don't you see? Isabel has been brought up with English ideas about these sort of things, and it's surely only natural that she should feel a little upset at the thought of being married so suddenly, and without any of her old friends to help her. She has told Peter that if it was possible she would like to have a talk with an English clergyman, and knowing that I have got the Reverend Mr. Monk on board, Peter has suggested that I should take him along to the Château. Of course, for various reasons, he didn't want a fuss made about it, so he has just given me his own private pass, and told me to explain the rest to the Count of Saint Anna. What could be more beautifully simple and probable?"
Molly clapped her hands softly. "Splendid, Tony!" she said. "Absolutely splendid!"
"And suppose," remarked Guy in his depressingly matter-of-fact voice, "that the first person we run into at the Château is Isabel's uncle or the Marquis da Freitas or the King himself. What's going to happen then?"
"I don't know exactly," said Tony, "but I should say that in all probability there will be the hell of a row."
"It's no good worrying about that," said Molly decisively. "We've got to chance something, and the odds are that all three of them will be down in Portriga. I imagine that that's why they've sent the girl to this place—in order to have their hands free."
Tony nodded his agreement. "There's a lot of hard work about running a revolution," he observed. "I shouldn't think they would be able to spare anybody this morning."
Molly looked round at the other two. "Well," she said, "Tony and I have made up our minds at all events. Are you ready to back us up?"
There was a pause.
"I will do anything I can," remarked Guy simply.
Jimmy leaned back and thrust his hands into his trouser pocket's.
"So will I, of course," he said. "The only thing I don't like about it is leaving you behind. Suppose they turn nasty when they find out?"
Molly smiled at him comfortingly. "That's all right," she said. "Peter has got his weak points, but if any one was to hurt the tip of my little finger he would have the last drop of blood they've got. Da Freitas knows that as well as I do."
"I'm glad to hear he appreciates you," said Jimmy with feeling. "You are much too good for him." He hesitated. "Look here," he added suddenly, "suppose he's killed, suppose somebody shoots him—it's quite possible you know—will you come back to England and marry me?"
Molly broke into a little ripple of silvery laughter.
"I daresay I might," she said. "Anyhow, it's nice to have something to fall back on in case one wants it."
"I hate to interrupt a really passionate love affair," observed Tony apologetically, "but don't you think we ought to discuss our arrangements—such as they are? We haven't too much time to spare."
"Well, they're pretty straight sailing, aren't they?" replied Jimmy. "There's plenty of petrol in the car, so all we've got to do is to go ashore and start off."
"Who's we?" demanded Molly. "You and I and Tony?"
"Can't I come too?" inquired Guy in a rather disappointed voice. "I'm quite ready to do my share—whatever it is?"
Tony got up from where he was sitting and laid a sympathetic hand on his cousin's shoulder..
"I know that, Guy," he aid. "I know that you would cut the throats of half Livadia if it would help Isabel in any way. The point is that we can't afford to do any fighting this trip. We have got to bring it off peacefully, if we bring it off at all, and it's quite possible that the real danger will be at this end, and not at the Château. I told you what Saltero said about the police here. Well, don't you see, if they chose to interfere they might put the hat on everything. I want you to take charge while we're away, and whatever happens—even if you have to murder every policeman in the town—there must be a nice comfy boat awaiting us when we get back."
Guy nodded grimly. "Very well," he said; "you can count on that, if there're any of us left alive!"