It was almost exactly half an hour later, when theBetty'sgig, skilfully piloted by the second officer, drew up alongside the jetty. Tony, Jimmy, and Molly scrambled out in turn—the latter carrying a small prayer-book in her hand and lending a pleasant air of respectability to the party.
Braxa still lay bathed in a rich tranquillity: the only other occupants of the sun-warmed causeway being a couple of nondescript gentlemen, who had been leaning over the low rail, watching the approach of the boat and spitting thoughtfully into the sea. These two eyed the new arrivals with a certain languid curiosity, but beyond that they betrayed no apparent interest in their proceedings.
"It's amazing to me," said Tony, looking round, "that any one could have had the bad taste to start a revolution here. It's like brawling in a mortuary."
"Oh, you mustn't judge Livadia by this place," protested Jimmy. "There are enough scoundrels in Portriga to make up for any shortage elsewhere." He took out a small rusty key from his pocket. "Come along," he added. "If we hang about admiring the view we shall probably have Saltero's policemen after us."
He led the way down the jetty towards a roughly built wooden shed which stood a few yards back on the beach, and unfastening the padlock, threw open the door. Inside, amongst a medley of fishing nets and other nautical obstructions, stood a large travel-stained motor car with steel studded tyres. It was evidently in good order, for it started with the first pull up of the handle, and having seated himself at the steering-wheel, Jimmy brought it deftly out on to the hard beaten sandy track which ran up into the main road.
"One penny all the way," he observed encouragingly. "Any more for Chancery Lane or the Bank of England?"
Tony closed and locked the door of the shed. "I shall sit behind with you, Molly," he announced. "Then we can hold hands under the rug."
They settled themselves comfortably in the tonneau, and starting on his second speed Jimmy shot off up the beach with surprising and rather disconcerting velocity.
At the top of the track, where it joined the road, several of Braxa's more energetic citizens were sheltering from the rays of the sun. As the car approached they all moved forward in a desultory fashion to scan its occupants; and one of them, a stout gentleman in uniform, with a sword trailing by his side, stepped out officiously into the roadway and held up his hand.
If he was under the impression that his action would cause the car to pull up, he must have been bitterly disappointed. Without faltering, or even slackening speed, its driver swerved round him at a distance of about two inches, and left him shouting and gesticulating wildly in the centre of a cloud of dun coloured dust.
A few yards further on, the road turned away inland, and as soon as they had negotiated the corner, Jimmy glanced back over his shoulder.
"We've torn it now," he observed complacently. "That was one of the policemen."
Tony nodded. "I thought it must be," he said. "He looked so well fed."
"Is there anything he can do?" inquired Molly; "except to try and arrest theBetty?"
"He might send a message to Portriga asking for instructions," answered Jimmy. "It all depends on whether he's got a suspicious nature."
He turned back to concentrate his attention on the steering, for they were passing through the main street of Braxa, and one or two small carts, with sleepy-looking pairs of oxen attached to them, were straggling amiably about the roadway.
"I'm sorry now that we didn't run over him," said Molly regretfully.
"We might go back and do it," replied Tony; "but I think on the whole we had better trust to Providence. If Providence is really with us one policeman can't make very much difference."
This argument seemed to convince Molly, for she attempted no further conversation until they were clear of the village, and travelling rapidly along the sandy and ill kept road which ran northwards towards Portriga.
Then, with a smile, she turned again towards Tony.
"I'm thinking of the ambush at Valona," she said. "I hope it's a nice comfortable one, because they'll have to stop there a long time if they are going to wait for me."
Tony sat up suddenly in his seat. "By Jove!" he said, slowly, "we never settled that point, did we! What are you going to do about it?"
"Well, if things turn out anything like right," returned Molly cheerfully, "I shall simply tell the escort that they had better find some other way of getting me into Portriga. I don't want to be mixed up in a free fight just before I'm married." She laughed gently. "I should like to hear what Saltero says about you, Tony," she added. "He'll shove everything down to your account, you know."
Tony nodded. "I hate to treat him like this," he observed sadly, "but it really can't be helped. In a big crisis the lesser virtues always have to give way to the greater."
"You must explain that to him," said Molly, "if you ever run up against him again. It will probably console him quite a lot."
By this time the last traces of Braxa were already some distance in the rear, and the countryside had assumed that forlorn and neglected aspect which forty years of misgovernment have so successfully impressed upon the greater part of Northern Livadia. Here and there they came across an occasional peasant woman, slouching along under a heavy burden: presumably carrying on the family business while her lord and master was assisting to make history in the Capital. With these exceptions, however, the road was absolutely deserted, a fact of which Jimmy took full advantage by pushing the car along at the utmost limit of speed which the deplorable surface would permit.
The only relief to the monotonous landscape was the long range of hills towards which they were steadily making their way. These rose sharply in the near distance against the cloudless blue sky, and somewhere amongst them, as Tony knew, lay the Château of Saint Anna and the goal of their expedition.
At last Jimmy slackened down, and looked round again from the driving seat.
"You'd better get ready for trouble," he said. "The turning's about half a mile on from here, and it's a hundred to one they'll have a patrol out at the corner."
Tony acknowledged the information with a reassuring wave of his hand; while Molly, after settling herself into a decorous attitude, opened her prayer-book at random and commenced to study "The Publick Baptism of Infants" with a deep and absorbed interest.
Jimmy proceeded forward at the same leisurely pace, until, bit by bit, the branch road that he had spoken of crept into view, turning off to the right, and then winding its way up through the hills, like a piece of yellowish ribbon dropped down carelessly from the sky.
At the point where it joined the main road stood a straggling coppice of stunted oak trees. To the unsuspicious eye there was nothing about it to suggest the least danger; but quite suddenly, while the car was still about a hundred yards distant, the apparently peaceful prospect underwent a startling change. With the crash and swirl of breaking undergrowth, a number of uniformed figures scrambled out hastily into the sunlight, and running forward with their rifles in their hands, formed up into an irregular cordon across the roadway.
It was a well planned manoeuvre, for even if the occupants of the car had wished to escape, it would have been practically impossible for them to do so. As it was Jimmy thrust on his brake and slowed down immediately into a mere crawl. Then turning round to Tony he observed with an air of respectful apology: "I'm afraid we shall have to pull up, Lord Haverstock. I expect they have got the steam-roller at work round the corner."
Before Tony could reply, a savage-looking gentleman, who appeared to be an officer, detached himself from the rest, and barked out some instruction in a hoarse and unintelligible voice, then followed by several subordinates, all gripping their rifles ready for immediate action, he strode rapidly forward towards the now stationary car.
Its three occupants awaited its approach with commendable dignity. Jimmy sat stiff and upright, still holding the steering-wheel, Tony lolled back in his seat with an air of slightly annoyed boredom, while Molly, after one incurious glance at the situation, had resumed her interrupted study of the Publick Baptism of Infants.
A few yards distant, the officer, who at closer quarters looked like a rather dog's eared edition of Kaiser Wilhelm the Second, halted his men in the roadway. Then advancing by himself to the side of the car, and dropping the point of his scabbard with a menacing clink on the ground, he addressed himself to Jimmy.
As he spoke in Livadian, Tony was unable to follow what he said. From his manner, however, it was pretty easy to guess that he was demanding to know who they were and what business had brought them into the neighbourhood. It was also fairly plain that he had made up his mind not to be trifled with, and that the first sign of any attempt to escape, would be the signal for a volley of bullets from the soldiers.
Jimmy listened in silence, until the harsh string of words which were showered at his head had come to an end. Then with a significant glance at the soldiers he leaned towards his questioner, and made some low reply in the same language. It evidently had something to do with the inadvisability of treating the matter to too public a discussion, for after hesitating a moment, the officer wheeled round and ordered his henchmen to withdraw three paces into the background. Then, still looking extremely stern and suspicious, he turned back to Jimmy.
Exactly what the latter said was of course as unintelligible to Tony as the previous questions had been. It was evident, however, from the occasional introduction of such phrases as "Lord Haverstock of London," and "the Château of Saint Anna," that he was telling the story they had agreed upon in the yacht and judging by his manner he was letting off this romantic fiction with the convincing plausibility that one would expect from anybody who for several years had been intimately connected with the motor trade.
Of its effect upon the officer there could be no doubt. The threatening hostility on his face gave way gradually to an expression of surprise, not untinged with a certain dawning respect, and when he spoke again it was in an altogether different if still slightly suspicious tone.
For several minutes the dialogue continued its course, and then, breaking off suddenly, Jimmy leaned back over the seat, and addressed himself to Tony.
"This gentleman," he said, "is Major Paqueta of the King's army."
Tony inclined his head in the polite if somewhat haughty fashion of a true English nobleman—a salute which Major Paqueta acknowledged by a stiff military bow.
"He would like to have a look at the King's letter," continued Jimmy. "I've explained the position to him, but he has orders not to allow any one to pass this corner."
With a slight air of aristocratic condescension Tony took out the document in question from his pocket and handed it to Jimmy, who in turn passed it on to the Major.
The gallant soldier unfolded it and carefully scrutinized its contents. One could see from his face that he was deeply impressed, but even so there were still distinct traces of doubt and hesitation in his manner when he looked up and again addressed himself to Jimmy.
A brief discussion followed, and then once more the latter turned round to explain.
"It's like this, Lord Haverstock. Major Paqueta believes that the letter is genuine, but his orders are very strict. He says that if we want to go on to the Château we must take him with us."
"Why, certainly," replied Tony without an instant's hesitation. "Tell Major Paqueta that I shall be delighted, and that if he wishes to return here we can give him a lift back. At least," he added drily, "I hope we shall be able to."
Jimmy passed on this communication—or at all events the first part of it—and for a second time the Major clicked his heels and genuflected stiffly. Then after a word or two of apparent explanation, he collected his three soldiers and proceeded up the road as far as the corner, followed at a dignified pace by the car. Here he handed over his command to a bloodthirsty-looking sergeant, and having given the latter some careful instructions, clambered up into the front seat alongside of Jimmy.
Turning down the branch road the now personally conducted expedition sped along rapidly towards its goal. There was little conversation, for Jimmy was too occupied in avoiding the ruts to return anything but the briefest answers to their new friend's occasional remarks, while Molly, despite the jolting of the car, still remained buried in her baptismal studies. She looked up once at Tony, who winked at her gravely, but this familiarity only met with a chilling clerical reserve that did not encourage further advances.
About every half mile they came across small parties of soldiers, patrolling the road, all of whom drew up across their path as they approached. On each occasion, however, the sight of Major Paqueta, sitting up like a ramrod in the front seat, was sufficient to insure their undisputed passage: that obliging gentleman being evidently the senior officer in command of the district.
As the road gradually began its ascent into the hills, these patrols increased in numbers, and Tony realized that Congosta's statement about the difficulty of rushing the place by force was by no means an exaggerated one. A very small body of well-armed and determined men could indeed have held the track against an army corps, for the great rocky boulders that towered up on either hand afforded admirable cover, and offered a ready means of blocking up the road if such a course were rendered necessary.
At last, after about two miles of this upward progress, they came out over the crest of a long narrow gorge, and with startling abruptness the Château of Saint Anna suddenly swept into view. It stood on the summit of the next hill—a large castle-like looking building of white stone, with a number of small attendant cottages straggling down into the valley below. It was not more than a mile distant, and despite Tony's constitutional calmness a momentary thrill ran through his heart as he gazed across the short intervening space which was all that now separated him from Isabel.
In a few minutes they were mounting the steep street which appeared to be the only approach to the Château. The route was plentifully sprinkled with soldiers, and from the cottage doorways on either side women and children watched the visitors go past with open-eyed interest. The sight of Major Paqueta on the front seat seemed still to be a sufficient guarantee to everyone for their respectability; and on they went through an avenue of salutes from the soldiers, which Tony acknowledged by occasionally raising his hand with an aristocratic languor that was extremely impressive.
It was not until they reached the main entrance to the Château—a big stone archway spanned by a couple of iron gates—that any attempt was made to arrest their progress. At this point two armed sentries on guard stepped forward with raised bayonets, and not wishing to run any unnecessary risk of puncture, Jimmy at once brought the car to a standstill. Almost at the same moment a small door at the side was opened and an officer in full uniform strode out into the roadway.
He saluted Major Paqueta, and for several moments the two of them remained engaged in an animated conversation, the results of which appeared to be distinctly satisfactory. At all events, on an order from the newcomer, the two big iron gates were pushed slowly open, and with commendable care Jimmy steered his way in under the archway.
They found themselves in a large courtyard, surrounded on three sides by various portions of the Château, and decorated in the centre by the equestrian statue of a stout gentleman, brandishing a menacing sword in the direction of Heaven. Circling gracefully round this atrocity, Jimmy drew up outside the entrance to the house—a couple of big iron-studded doors, from which a flight of stone steps led down to the gravel.
With the dignity becoming to his position, Major Paqueta descended from the car. Their arrival had evidently been observed, for as he did so, one of the doors was opened from inside, and an elderly-looking steward or butler, supported by two assistants, appeared upon the threshold.
The Major stopped to make a remark or two in Livadian to Jimmy; then with another formal and apparently apologetic bow to Tony, he mounted the steps and was ushered into the house.
"He's gone to see who's at home," explained Jimmy, leaning his elbow on the back of the seat. "He says he won't keep us waiting long."
Tony nodded. "We have done our bit," he observed philosophically. "It's all up to Providence now."
Molly, who had closed her prayer-book, and was sitting beside him with downcast eyes, squeezed his hand gently under the rug.
"Good luck, Tony," she said in a low voice; "just in case we don't see each other again."
Before Tony could make any response the officer who had admitted them through the gate appeared suddenly along the courtyard behind them, and took up his position on the steps within earshot of where they were sitting. Tony, of course, did not know if he understood English, but considering the somewhat delicate nature of their position it seemed advisable to avoid any unnecessary risk. He therefore contented himself by returning Molly's squeeze, and in tactful silence the three of them waited for the next development.
It was not long in arriving. Once more the big portal swung back, and Major Paqueta, with the pompous-looking steward in attendance, came down the steps and addressed a few words to Jimmy.
The latter climbed down from his seat, and without waiting for the assistance of the steward, opened the back door of the car.
"We are to go in," he announced with superb coolness. "The Count of Saint Anna is prepared to receive us."
Throwing back the rug, Tony and Molly followed him out, the latter still keeping her eyes down, and holding the prayer-book before her in a conspicuous position.
Preceded by the steward and Major Paqueta they ascended the steps, and entered a lofty hall lit by a glass dome and set around with marble pillars. Behind these were a number of tall mahogany doors leading into the various apartments. On either side of one of them, which was open, stood the two footmen in rigid immobility, and between this expressionless pair of statues their guide conducted them into a large, handsomely furnished room, where an elderly gentleman in a frock-coat was standing by a writing-table, waiting to receive them.
The Count of Saint Anna, for it was evidently their host who faced them, bowed courteously at their entrance. He was an amiable-looking old boy with gold spectacles and a long white moustache carefully waxed at the ends. From this demeanour at all events there was no hint of any hostility or suspicion towards his visitors, and Tony felt a momentary wave of relief that since her arrival in Livadia Isabel should have been in such apparently good-natured hands.
As soon as the door was closed the Count cleared his throat and commenced to speak.
"Gentlemen," he observed in very painstaking English: "I have the pleasure to make your knowledge. Major Paqueta says that you carry a letter from His Majesty the King, and that you wish to speak with me privately on a matter of much importance."
Tony bowed, and stepping forward, again produced the invaluable scrap of paper which had been returned to him by the Major. The old gentleman accepted it, and having adjusted his spectacles read it through with extreme care. The perusal could not really have occupied him more than a minute, but to three of those present it seemed to be the most prolonged and poignant minute ever extracted from the womb of time. At last, however, he looked up again, and with infinite relief they saw that the charm had worked.
"I will speak with these gentlemen in private," he said, addressing himself to Major Paqueta. "This is undoubtedly the writing of His Majesty."
It seemed from the Major's face as if he were slightly disappointed by this abrupt dismissal, but like a true disciplinarian he accepted the situation without remonstrance. Bowing again stiffly, he wheeled round and marched to the door and the next moment the four of them were alone.
The Count motioned his guests to be seated.
"I understand," he said, "that there is one of you gentlemen who is able to speak our language. It would be best perhaps if he should explain. I have a small knowledge of English, but it is not good to listen with."
Tony turned to Jimmy. "Go ahead, James," he said encouragingly. "Tell the Count of Saint Anna exactly what the King has asked us to do."
With that easy assurance that had won him his chequered way through the world, Jimmy set about his task. He had one of those happily constituted natures (so frequent amongst prominent statesmen and successful men of business) which enables its possessor to become automatically more convincing the further he departs from the truth. Unintelligible as his actual words were to Tony, there was a ring of sincerity about them which filled the latter with intense admiration, and made him feel that much as he had always appreciated Jimmy, he had up till that moment failed to do him complete justice.
The Count on his part appeared to be deeply impressed. He followed Jimmy's trail of lies with the closest attention, occasionally interjecting a question, and nodding his head with grave satisfaction over the answers that were immediately forthcoming. It was an entertaining spectacle, and but for the stake at issue, and an uncomfortable sensation that every minute added to their danger, Tony would have felt quite sorry when it came to an end.
Throughout the recital Molly remained very unobtrusively in the background. She had seated herself in the darkest corner of the room, and with her eyes fixed steadily on the carpet, she appeared to be wholly absorbed in some form of inward meditation.
There was a moment's pause when Jimmy had finished, and then, with a final and decisive nod, the Count rose to his feet.
"My friends," he said in English, "you have indeed done a great service to His Majesty. You have also my own gratitude. I do not hide from you that it has been of much distress to me that the Princess Isabella is not more happy. If to speak with this good gentleman will be of comfort to her, that is indeed all that we should wish. I will myself take him to her presence."
It was an exhilarating moment, but all three of them managed to preserve their self-control. With extreme gravity Molly got up from her seat and moved quietly in the direction of the door, Tony and Jimmy also rising and acknowledging the Count's speech with a couple of polite bows.
"In a minute I shall rejoin you," added the latter. "In the meanwhile I trust that you will regard this poor apartment as your own."
He crossed the room and opened the door politely for Molly who, still clasping her prayer-book in front of her, passed solemnly through into the hall. The Count paused for an instant on the threshold to return the salutations of his guests, and then following her out, closed the doors behind them.
Jimmy pulled out a handkerchief and softly pressed it to his forehead.
"Holy Moses!" he whispered. "If Ananias hasn't turned in his grave he's the most unjealous blighter who ever lived."
"You were wonderful, James," said Tony, with a genuine reverence in his voice. "I think we shall have to change the idea of running our garage on honest lines. It would be a sheer waste of genius."
"We needn't worry about that yet," retorted Jimmy. "We have got to get out of this hole first. I don't know what you think, but it seems to me that our part of the business was child's play compared with that those two girls have got to tackle."
"They'll do it," replied Tony confidently. "I've the most perfect faith in Molly."
Jimmy took a deep breath. "She's great—magnificent," he said. "There isn't a woman in the world to touch her. She'll do her part all right, but it's the other one I'm thinking about. How can one expect a young girl who's no experience of acting to bring off a job like this?"
"Ah!" said Tony. "You don't know Isabel."
He walked to the writing-desk, and stood for an instant looking down at the open blotting-book.
"I wonder if the Count would mind my using his paper and envelopes," he added meditatively. "I think this would be rather a good opportunity of answering Da Freitas' letter."
"Oh, go on," said Jimmy with a chuckle. "That will be all right. He told us to look on the place as our own."
Tony seated himself at the desk, and taking out his fountain pen pulled a sheet of paper towards him. He paused to reflect for a few moments, and then dating the letter with the exact hour, began to write, slowly and deliberately.
He had not covered more than half a page, when the door opened and the Count of Saint Anna came back into the room.
"I have taken your friend in to the Princess," he said. "She was surprised, as you would expect, but I think it will make her happy to speak with him. I return to bring him back in a little while. You gentlemen will do me the honour of lunching with me, as soon as their talk is finished?"
Tony, who had got up from his chair, shook his head.
"Thank you very much, Count," he said, "but I'm afraid we shall have to start back as quick as we can. The fact is I have got an appointment with the English Ambassador. He is coming to lunch with me on my yacht."
He brought out this impromptu falsehood with such perfect readiness that even Jimmy was momentarily staggered.
"Ah!" said the Count. "I am sorry. If you could have waited it is possible that you would have had the pleasure to meet the Count de Sé. We are expecting him at any time now. He is, as you know, to take the Princess to Portriga."
"What a pity!" replied Tony regretfully. "I should love to have had a chat with him if we could have managed it." He paused. "By the way," he added, "I hope you don't mind my making free with your property like this. I was just writing a line to my friend the Marquis da Freitas. I daresay the Count de Sé would take it with him when he goes in."
The old gentleman spread out his hands in a reassuring gesture.
"Señor," he said, "please to continue. All that I have in this poor house is at your disposal."
Taking him at his word, Tony resumed his seat at the desk, while Jimmy, with some opportune remark in Livadian, promptly withdrew their host to the further side of the room.
Continuing to write with extreme deliberation, Tony finished his letter, which occupied exactly two sides of the note-paper. Then he blotted it, and sitting back in his chair, read it through carefully before folding it up.
Tuesday, THE CHATEAU OF SAINT ANNA,11.53 A.M. Somewhere in Livadia.
MY DEAR MARQUIS:
It was very kind of you to write and say good-bye, as I don't suppose you had much time to spare your last day in England.
I am more than sorry that I haven't been able to look you up and thank you personally during this flying visit of ours to your beautiful and exciting country. You, I feel certain, will share this regret, but your admirable philosophy will doubtless enable you to make the best of it. Making the best of unfortunate situations is the real secret of a happy and successful life.
May I add that you can always rely on us for the most perfect discretion with regard to any secrets that we happen to share in common. I shall consider it a great kindness if you will convey to His Majesty my truest congratulations on his marriage, of which, under the circumstances, I feel quite sure you will thoroughly approve.
Wishing you the best of success in your patriotic efforts on behalf of Livadia,
I am, my dear Marquis,Your sincere admirer,ANTONY CONWAY.
P.S. You were quite right about the proverb. Ha! Ha!
Having enclosed this in an envelope and addressed it, Tony got up from his chair and handed it to the Count.
"I shall be much obliged if you will give that to De Sé," he said. "I want the Marquis to get it as soon as possible and I expect your postal arrangements are a bit disorganized."
The Count shrugged his shoulders.
"All is confusion for the moment," he admitted, "but I trust that by Monday we may hope for better things. So soon as the King is married there will be no more fighting."
He put the letter away carefully in his inside pocket, and for a few minutes continued to discourse on the revolution and its possible developments. It was quite evident that he shared Colonel Saltero's opinion as to the immediate effect of the coming ceremony, and that he looked forward to the future with a complete and touching confidence.
At last, again adjusting his spectacles, which had a habit of slipping down his nose, he glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece.
"I think," he said "that I might now return to the Princess. It was, I understand, for twenty minutes that your good friend wished to speak with her."
"Perhaps it would be as well," said Tony reluctantly. "I hate to rush away like this, but we really ought to get back as soon as possible. I don't want to keep the Ambassador waiting."
They moved together towards the door, and as Tony opened it he added: "I should like to take the chance of having a look at your hall pillars if I may. I never saw finer marble in my life."
A gratified smile lit up the Count's features. "It is considered a not unfavourable example of our architecture," he said. "I am honoured that it should meet with your approval."
He conducted them outside, and after again apologizing for leaving them, mounted the broad staircase and disappeared from view along the gallery above.
For a moment Tony and Jimmy remained standing where they were, apparently lost in admiration. One glance round, however, had shown both of them all that they really wished to see. Through the partly open front door they had caught a glimpse of Major Paqueta and the other officer engaged in conversation on the steps, while a faint but clearly audible ticking below told them that the faithful car was still in the same position where they had left it.
"We might be able to manage it," whispered Jimmy; "even if there's a hitch at the last moment."
"There'll be no hitch," replied Tony gently. "Put your trust in Providence, Jimmy, and admire the hall."
He strolled placidly round from pillar to pillar, examining the carving at the base of each, and occasionally patting one with his hand, as if to express his approbation. Jimmy accompanied him, sauntering along with equal nonchalance, and puffing at a cigarette which he had lighted while talking to the Count.
They were just completing the circuit and were within a few feet of the door, when a sudden sound above brought them to a halt. They both looked up, and as they did so two people appeared at the head of the staircase.
One was the Count, coming down with his hand on the banisters, and talking away affably in his indifferent English.
The other——
Standing where he was, Tony stared up at the slim black-coated figure, that with prayer-book in hand and lowered eyes was descending the staircase alongside of their host. The likeness to Molly as he had last seen her was so amazing that for just one numbing instant a horrible fear that she had failed gripped him by the heart.
Then—somehow or other—he knew—knew beyond any shadow of doubt that it was Isabel herself. All his coolness returned to him instantly, and drawing in a deep, delicious breath he stepped forward to meet them.
"His Majesty will be very grateful to you," said the Count in a low voice. "I am happy to say that the kindness and sympathy of this good gentleman have been of much comfort to the Princess. She is like a different person.'
"I have no doubt she is," replied Tony heartily. "I know from experience that a talk with Mr. Monk always makes one feel better and happier." He held out his hand. "Good-bye, Count," he added, "and thank you again so much for your kindness."
The Count shook hands warmly with all three of them.
"It has been a privilege to make your friendship," he replied. "But I will not say 'good-bye.' It is possible, I hope, that you will be returning here before long."
"It is," admitted Tony, "distinctly."
"And when you come," continued their host, shaking his finger playfully, "I shall not permit you to leave us a second time in so great a hurry."
Tony smiled, and again wrung his hand. "I am sure of that, Count," he said; "quite sure of it."
They walked to the doors, which had been thrown back by the steward, who had suddenly reappeared upon the scene, and passed out once more into the sunshine and freedom of the open air.
Isabel did not waste any time. Without looking to the right or left, she stepped up quietly into the tonneau, and getting in after her Tony settled himself between her and the steps. With almost equal promptness Jimmy and the Major took their places in front. There was a farewell wave from the Count and the other officer, a sputtering of gravel as the wheels commenced to revolve, and the next moment the car was circling again round the stout gentleman with the sword, and heading gaily towards the archway.
Tony's sensations, as he found himself once more slipping past the open cottage doors, were so radiantly exhilarating that it was all he could do to keep them under control. Indeed, but for the fact that his right hand was clasping Isabel's left under the rug, and that the other was temporarily occupied in returning the salutes of the soldiers by the roadside, he felt that the temptation to throw his arms round Major Paqueta's neck would have been utterly irresistible.
The necessity for silence—always a difficult virtue in his case—did not tend to make the struggle any easier. A dozen questions were trembling on his tongue, but apart from the fact that Jimmy was driving at a pace which would have rendered anything but shouting absolutely useless, he knew it would be stark madness for Isabel to begin talking until they had succeeded in ridding themselves of their passenger. So with splendid if painful self-control he sat mutely beside her, while steadily gathering speed, the car swept up the opposite hillside and plunged joyously out of sight of the Château into the narrow gorge above.
With the exception of slowing down occasionally as he passed the various patrols, Jimmy pushed along in such an animated fashion that in what seemed to be an amazingly short time they had again descended from the high ground, and were racing back along the winding valley which led into the main road. As they came in sight of the thicket where they had first had the privilege of making Major Paqueta's acquaintance, two or three of the latter's soldiers, who were evidently on the watch, came hurrying out from amongst the trees. Seeing that it was their leader returning they formed up promptly into some kind of order, and putting on his brakes, Jimmy brought the car to a halt a dozen paces or so from where they were standing.
With a few words, apparently expressive of his thanks, the Major climbed down into the roadway. Then, drawing himself up, he bowed twice—once to Tony and once to Isabel: a polite attention which they both returned as gracefully as their somewhat cramped circumstances would allow. At the same moment Jimmy thrust in his clutch, and lurching forward again, the car swung rapidly round the corner on to the main Braxa road.
A few hundred yards from the wood Tony's self-control was unable to hold out any longer. Throwing back the rug he lifted up Isabel's hand, and regardless as to whether any one could see him or not, pressed it recklessly and joyously to his lips.
With a little gasp she laid her other hand upon his sleeve.
"Oh, say it's true, Tony. Tell me it's really true!"
Her words were almost carried away by the wind, for sublimely indifferent to the ruts Jimmy had let the car out to its fullest extent, and they were racing and bounding along in a fashion which would have done credit to a high-spirited chamois.
With a glad laugh Tony put his arm round her and drew her close up against him.
"It's the truest thing that's ever happened," he answered. "You are mine now, Isabel—mine, mine, mine; and all the fat-headed Kings in Europe will never get you away from me again."
Satisfied apparently with what she could hear of his statement, Isabel made no attempt to reply. With her eyes half-closed she leaned against his shoulder, swaying with the movement of the car and holding tight to his hand like a tired but contented child.
"Were you going to marry him?" demanded Tony abruptly, as a worse bit of road than usual caused a momentary slackening in the pace.
She opened her eyes and nodded. "Uncle Philip told me that they had got hold of you too, and that if I didn't do it they would punish you horribly, somehow or other. I meant to kill myself directly I knew you were safe."
The arm with which Tony was holding her tightened a little in its grip.
"If ever I meet Uncle Phil again," he remarked slowly, "he'll run up against something considerably harder than Richmond Park."
A fresh plunge forward on the part of the car rendered any further conversation temporarily impossible, and for the next quarter of an hour they spun along in the same buoyant fashion, while the red roofs of Braxa, which were now visible in the distance, grew plainer and plainer every minute.
Some way short of the straggling outskirts Jimmy again checked his speed, and pulling into the side of the road came to a sudden and unexpected halt.
"How d'you do, Isabel," he observed, looking round over his shoulder. "Glad to meet you." Then addressing himself to her companion, he added: "What's your notion about things, Tony? I think myself we'd better make a dash for it. Run slap through the town and straight down on to the landing stage. I suppose the boat will be there all right."
Tony nodded. "One can always depend upon Guy," he said. "But how about the car? What are you going to do with that?"
"Scrap it," replied Jimmy. "Leave it on the quay. It doesn't belong to me you know, it belongs to the garage. I've got all my earthly possessions in my pocket."
"Right away then," said Tony, "and don't stop for anything." He turned to Isabel. "You won't be frightened if we have to run over a few policemen," he said. "It's just possible they may be on the lookout for us."
Isabel shook her head. "I don't mind," she said firmly. "Not in the least."
"Well, look out for squalls," remarked Jimmy cheerfully. "It's neck or nothing now."
He pulled his Homburg hat on tighter and started off again down the road, which stretched out ahead of them bare and dusty in the blazing midday sunshine.
Peaceful as Braxa had seemed when they had passed through it earlier in the morning, it was at this hour even more deserted than before. The heat of the sun seemed to have driven such people as were about into the shelter of the wine shops, and except for a few unhappy-looking dogs, rummaging amongst the garbage, a deep, languorous tranquillity brooded over everything.
They raced up the main street at a pace which sent the dust flying in clouds on either side of them; and without sounding their horn or otherwise announcing their approach, they swept round the corner into the big open space where they had had their previous encounter with the policeman. They were half-way across, and were heading straight for the track that led down on to the beach, when the drowsy silence of the square was suddenly disturbed by a hoarse shout on the left. Tony glanced round in the direction of the sound, and was rewarded by the sight of two uniformed figures hurrying out from the shadow of the trees, and running and stumbling towards them with loud and peremptory cries.
"You're too late," he observed placidly. "Go on, Jimmy."
As he spoke the car shot up the slight incline which hitherto shut out the beach from view and at the same moment a half stifled exclamation broke simultaneously from all three of its occupants. Right across the track, in such a position as to shut out any possibility of passing it, stood a big clumsy ox-cart, half full of sand. Some yards further on they could see the driver chatting affably to a couple of fishermen, but even if he had wished to help them, he was too far away to be of any use.
Under the circumstances Jimmy did the only thing that could possibly have saved them. Thrusting out his clutch, he flung the wheel hard over to the right, and with a wild swirl the car left the track, and plunging forward into the soft sand at the side, came to a staggeringly abrupt standstill.
Despite the shock, Tony had opened the door and was out on the beach almost before the wheels had ceased to revolve.
"Come along," he said coolly; "plenty of time."
But for one fact, it is probable that his statement would have proved true. This fact unfortunately just made all the difference. The sudden stoppage had flung Jimmy forward with such force against the steering-wheel that all the breath had been knocked clean out of his body, and for the moment he was as completely helpless as any human being could possibly be.
Seeing what had happened, Tony darted round to the other side of the car, and catching him in his arms, lifted him bodily out of the seat. Even while he was doing so, the first paralysing effects of the blow began to wear off; but the delay—brief as it had been—was quite long enough to bring about disaster.
Already the pursuing policemen had come racing up over the rise behind, and were bawling out frantic instructions to the driver of the cart and the two fishermen who were with him. Thunderstruck as the latter seemed to be, they yet retained sufficient intelligence to grasp the fact that they were being called upon to assist the law. For a second only they hesitated; then with a simultaneous movement, they lumbered forward up the beach, and true to the voice of duty, rushed in upon their quarry.
The next minute was probably the busiest in Tony's life. Letting go of Jimmy, he sprang forward to meet the first of their assailants—a big black-bearded fellow, who had slightly out-distanced the others. The man dived for his body, but swinging up his left with a terrific jolt Tony caught him full in the face, and sent him sprawling over on the sand. Then, just in the nick of time, he turned to meet the driver of the cart. There was no chance of repeating his former tactics, for the sheer weight of the latter's rush had brought him into close quarters, and the next instant they were swaying up and down, clutched in each other's arms.
At any ordinary time they would have been a very well matched pair, but the desperation of the moment had filled Tony with a kind of wild madness that seemed almost to have doubled his strength. Wrenching his right arm free he drove his fist deep into his opponent's midriff with the force of a piston-rod. The man's legs shut up under him like a clasp-knife—down he went in a gurgling heap, dragging Tony with him in his fall.
The latter was up again almost immediately, but his first glance round showed him the hopelessness of the situation. Racing down the slope with all possible speed, the two policemen had already reached the scene of action. One of them was rushing towards him with a drawn sword, and yelling to him to surrender, while the other was dodging round the car in pursuit of Isabel.
At that moment, just when everything seemed to be lost, a violent "bang" from behind burst suddenly on Tony's ear. He spun round instinctively—and there, fifteen yards away, was the Heaven-sent figure of "Tiger" Bugg, leaping up the beach with the speed and fury of an avenging angel. A few paces in the rear stood Guy Oliver, hatless, perspiring, and with a smoking revolver levelled in his hand.
Even as Tony turned there came a second spurt of flame. He felt the bullet whistle past him, and almost simultaneously an agonized yelp of pain showed that it had found its mark. He swung round again instantly, just in time to see the onrushing policeman drop his sword, and stagger back a couple of paces with his left hand clasped to his shoulder.
Disregarding everything else Tony flung himself to the rescue of Isabel. At the sound of the second shot, the man who was chasing her had pulled up abruptly in his tracks, apparently debating whether, under the new circumstances, discretion was not the better part of valour. Before he could make up his mind Tony was on him. He flung up his arms to defend himself, but a smashing left in the throat toppled him over like a pole-axed bullock, the back of his head coming in violent contact with the radiator, and thus completing his discomfiture.
Panting, and quite unable to speak, Isabel leaned against the side of the car.
"It's all over," said Tony cheerfully, and slipping his arm gently round her, he bent down and kissed her. "I'll carry you to the boat," he added.
She made some inaudible protest, but without paying any attention he picked her up in his arms and turned towards the quay.
It was a stricken field that met his gaze, but all danger was apparently over. With Bugg's assistance Jimmy was just struggling to his feet, while his late assailant, stretched out full length on the sand beside him, seemed to have given up any further interest in the proceedings. On the right, still clutching his revolver, Guy stood on guard over the remainder of the enemies, none of them, however, appeared to be in any condition to interfere.
He glanced up with a white and eager face as Tony strode forward, carrying Isabel in his arms.
"Is she all right?" he gasped breathlessly.
Tony gave him a reassuring nod. "We are both in the best of health, thank you, Guy," he said. "How about the boat?"
Guy took a deep breath. "You'll find the boat there," he said, pointing towards the jetty. "Get on board as quick as you can. Bugg and I will bring Dale along."
Without further remark, Tony hurried on down the beach, and passed in between the two wooden posts which marked the entrance to the rough stone causeway. A few yards ahead of him stood the Captain of theBettyholding the gig's painter in his hand. In the boat below a couple of sailors were ready at their oars.
"Hello, skipper!" exclaimed Tony. "How nice of you to have come yourself! I hope we haven't kept you waiting."
As he spoke he gently lowered Isabel to her feet, and supporting her with one hand, held out the other to Captain Simmons.
The sailor gripped it in his huge brown paw.
"Thank God, you're safe, Sir Antony," he exclaimed heartily. "I'd have given anything to be able to lend a hand, but I didn't dare leave the boat. We'd have been done if they'd cut us off."
"Oh, we didn't want any more help," said Tony laughing. "The whole beach is littered with corpses as it is." He paused. "Let me introduce you to Miss Francis," he ended, "the lady I'm going to marry."
For a moment the skipper stared at Isabel in dumb amazement: then with that readiness in emergency which always distinguishes the British sailor, he took off his cap and made her an abrupt bow.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss," he remarked huskily.
At that instant through the entrance to the jetty appeared the dishevelled figure of Jimmy limping cheerfully along between Guy and Bugg.
"Here come the others," said Tony. "We'd better get aboard before there's any more trouble." He dropped down into the boat, and steadied himself in the stern. "You pass Miss Francis down to me, will you, skipper?"
Like a man in a dream, but with the most respectful and solicitous care Captain Simmons lifted up Isabel and lowered her gently into Tony's arms. As her feet touched the planks Bugg, Guy, and Jimmy appeared on the causeway above, and the next moment they too were scrambling hastily down into their places. Captain Simmons followed with the painter.
"Let her go," he exclaimed curtly.
The two sailors swung back together, and with a steady gliding motion the boat drew away from the strenuous shores of Livadia into the blue waters of the sunlit bay.
For the second time that morning Lady Jocelyn opened theDaily Mailand adjusting her glasses bent over the centre column with its staring and heavily leaded headlines.
AMAZING DEVELOPMENT IN LIVADIAKING PEDRO MARRIED TO THE PRINCESSISABELLATHE CIVIL WAR ENDED
In Saturday's issue we were able to give our readers the exclusive information that King Pedro and the ex-prime minister of Livadia, the Marquis da Freitas, had landed in Portriga.
Our well informed special correspondent, who transmitted the news, hinted also that within a short time we might expect to hear of some dramatic developments in the situation. The correctness of his forecast has been amply demonstrated in a further and lengthy message received late last night; a message which conveys the striking information that King Pedro and his rival claimant to the throne, the beautiful daughter of the late Don Francisco, were married on Sunday morning in the Cathedral at Portriga.
The situation from the political point of view is dealt with fully in our leading article. We feel certain, however, that all readers of theDaily Mailwill join in congratulating the Royal and happy pair upon their romantic union.
During his residence amongst us King Pedro has given many proofs of the manly and democratic spirit by which he is animated, and we share our correspondent's hope that under his rule and that of his fair and youthful consort, our old established allies—the Livadian people—will enter upon a long era of peace and prosperity.
From our Special Correspondent.
PORTRIGA, Sunday night.
Today has been the most dramatic day in the whole history of Livadia. Within an hour of my sending off my last message (since when I have been unable to communicate) a number of posters and bills began to make their appearance all over the town, announcing that on Sunday morning King Pedro would be married to the Princess Isabella, the beautiful and rather mysterious daughter of the late Pretender, of whose whereabouts very few even of her own supporters seemed to have any definite knowledge.
With great difficulty, and only through the kind assistance of Mr. Watson the British Consul, I managed to obtain an interview with General Almaida. The latter, who appeared to be in a state of considerable agitation, declared the report to be a deliberate canard set about by the King's supporters.
Further inquiries, however, led me to the conclusion that the Princess was actually in the hands of the Royalists, and that having been won over by the King's courtesy and charm of manner, she had agreed to the marriage as the natural and happy solution of their rival claims. The truth of this view was soon demonstrated.
At an early hour on Sunday morning, all the foreign correspondents in Portriga received an official invitation to the Cathedral, the approaches to which were held in considerable force by the King's troops. The ceremony, which was originally announced for twelve o'clock, did not take place until nearly one-thirty, owing I believe to a final attempt on the part of General Almaida to break through into the centre of the town. His belated effort was easily frustrated, as a large number of his followers had already laid down their arms, recognizing the hopelessness of their position.
The marriage rites, which were performed by the aged Bishop of Portriga, were carried through with considerable state. Except for a momentary interruption half through the service, the authors of which were promptly arrested and conveyed from the Cathedral, the ceremony proceeded along its course without any untoward incident. On leaving the building the Royal Pair were greeted with the utmost enthusiasm by a large and apparently well contented crowd and drove in state to the ancient palace of St. Peter, where from time immemorial the ruling house of Livadia have been accustomed to reside.
The new Queen of Livadia is a young girl of remarkable beauty—not unlike an Englishwoman in appearance. She has a wealth of that wonderful auburn hair, which is frequently to be met with in the Southern provinces of Livadia, and throughout the ceremony she conducted herself with a grace and dignity that won the admiration of all beholders.
It is not difficult to believe that under its young and happily endowed rulers, who will be guided by that experienced statesman the Marquis da Freitas, the country will soon recover from the troublous times through which it has been recently passing.
Having read so far, Lady Jocelyn laid down the paper, and leaned back against the sofa. For a minute or so she remained there motionless, gazing straight out in front of her with an expression such as few people had ever seen upon her naturally shrewd and cheerful face.
At last, with a faint sigh, she picked up the paper again, and stared once more at the blatant headlines.
"Oh, my poor Tony," she said softly to herself. "My poor dear boy!"
The words had hardly left her lips when the noise of a motor pulling up outside came in plainly through the open window. A moment later the front door bell pealed loudly.
Lady Jocelyn got up, and walking slowly to the door intercepted the maid who was in the act of crossing the landing.
"I am not at home, Ellen," she said, "unless it's Mr. Henry Conway. I am expecting him, so you can bring him straight upstairs."
"Yes, M'lady," murmured the girl sympathetically.
All Lady Jocelyn's servants adored her, and although to them Isabel's abrupt disappearance was still a complete mystery, they were very troubled and upset at the obvious effect which it had produced upon their mistress.
Walking back across the room Lady Jocelyn had just reached her former seat, when a sudden sound of voices in the hall below made her pause abruptly. An exclamation escaped from her lips, and with an unconscious movement she stretched out her arm and caught hold of the back of the sofa to steady herself. The next moment footsteps came scrambling up the stairs, and forgetful of all her professional training, Ellen burst wildly into the room, her round face shining with excitement.
"Oh, M'lady! It's Miss Isabel and Sir Antony, M'lady—and—and Mr. Oliver."
Even as she spoke the first-named couple appeared in the doorway, and with a little glad cry, Lady Jocelyn stepped forward, holding out her hands.
"Tony! Isabel!" she whispered; then as they hurried towards her, and each threw their arms round her, she added, half laughing, half crying: "Oh, you dear, bad children! How you've frightened me!"
In the middle of their embrace, Guy Oliver followed them into the room. With the exception of a slight trace of sunburn he looked as sedate and respectable as ever; indeed the thought of him standing on a blood-stained beach blazing away with a revolver seemed like the wildest fancy of an imaginative dipsomaniac.
"We only landed at Southampton early this morning," explained Tony penitently; "and I couldn't spoil things by telegraphing."
At this point Ellen, who had been standing contemplating the scene with the frankest curiosity, suddenly woke up to a realization of her professional lapse. With a reluctant sigh she withdrew noiselessly from the room, closing the door behind her, and dashed off downstairs to communicate the exciting tidings to her fellow-servants.
With their arms round Lady Jocelyn, Tony and Isabel conducted her gently to the sofa, and seated themselves one on each side of her. Guy took his place in an armchair facing them.
"You must forgive me, Guy," said Lady Jocelyn. "I am so happy and excited I haven't even said how do you do, and I'm sure it's all through you that I have got my mad children back alive and well."
"Of course it is," exclaimed Tony. "If Guy hadn't waded in and slaughtered half the Livadian police force on the beach, we shouldn't have had a dog's chance of getting clear. Isn't that so, Isabel?"
Isabel nodded. "He was very brave," she said gratefully. "I shall never forget how fierce and splendid he looked."
Poor Guy's face turned a vivid crimson.
"I wish I had seen him," remarked Lady Jocelyn, with considerable regret in her voice; "but it seems to me we are beginning at the wrong end." She stooped forward and picked up theDaily Mail, which had fallen to the floor. "Look at that," she added, pointing to the headlines, "and for pity's sake tell me what it all means."
"I've seen it," said Tony. "It means that even Lord Northcliffe may be deceived at times." He paused. "I didn't tell you quite everything before we started, Aunt Fanny. I had some silly idea it might worry you."
"Never mind," said Lady Jocelyn generously. "If you will make up for it now, I think I might manage to forgive you."
She took Isabel's slim hand in hers and leaned back against the sofa.
"I'll try," said Tony gravely; "but Guy and Isabel will have to help. It's the sort of story that requires at least three strong people, if one wants to tell it properly."
The incompleteness of his previous confidences had of course lain in the fact that hitherto he had omitted all mention of the leading rôle played by Molly during the latter stages of the proceedings. Going back now to the point at which she had first told him of her secret marriage to Pedro, he described in full detail how the main idea of a possible rescue had originated with her, and the daring and skilful manner in which she had thrown herself into the scheme.
He gave a rapid account of their run down through the night to Southampton, and of how—thanks to McEwen—they had managed to reach Portriga in a time for which the nominal horse-power of theBetty'sengines failed to convey any adequate explanation.
Then, after describing the respective arrivals on board of Jimmy and Colonel Saltero, he went on to explain how they had all come to a unanimous decision that in a raid on the Château of Saint Anna lay their only possible chance of success. With an account of that immortal drive and of their experiences in the Château he at length brought the story down to the moment when Molly and the Count had retired upstairs to administer spiritual consolation to the Princess Isabella.
At this point he paused.
"I think that's about my share," he observed unselfishly. "You go on now, Isabel; tell Aunt Fanny the rest of it."
Lady Jocelyn, who had been listening to him with an expression of entranced interest, sat upright in her seat, still holding Isabel's hand.
"What an amazing and delightful person this Molly Monk must be!" she exclaimed. "And to think that she is the granddaughter of old Monk at the Lodge! I always said there was something extraordinarily bracing in the Helbeck air."
"I think she must be the bravest and cleverest girl that ever lived," said Isabel with shining eyes. "You know I hadn't the faintest suspicion that she wasn't a real clergyman until the Count had gone out of the room. You can't imagine what I felt like when she suddenly bolted the door and began to talk to me. I was so astonished at first that I don't believe I could have done anything by myself, but she was as cool and quiet about it all as if it was just the most ordinary thing in the world. All the time she was talking she was making me change clothes with her, and by the time we had got into each other's things I didn't feel frightened or stupid any longer.
"Then, while she was doing up my hair and putting on my wig, she began to ask me questions—whether I spoke to the Count in English (which I always had done)—how I behaved as a rule when he came into the room—and, and other things of that sort. I tried to answer as well as I could, and you can't think how quick and clever she was at understanding. She made me walk about and sit down and talk to her, and by the time she had finished dressing herself and had done her hair like mine, she was able to imitate me so exactly that I could hardly believe it was real.
"We were expecting the Count back every minute then; so she unbolted the door and told me as quickly as possible what I was to do when he came. She said that whatever happened I was not to answer him if he spoke to me, but only to nod or shake my head, and leave everything else to her.
"Then we heard him on the stairs, and she sat down quite quietly in the chair I generally used, and made me stand just beside her with my back to the door."
Isabel paused, as if the memory of that rather tense experience still lingered poignantly in her mind.
"I'd have given a thousand pounds to be there," observed Tony regretfully. "It must have been the best moment of the whole show."
"I wouldn't go through it again for anything in the world," declared Isabel with a reminiscent shiver. "It was like standing on the edge of some horrible precipice waiting to be pushed over." She paused again. "I can't tell you exactly what happened," she went on. "I suppose I was too excited to take it in properly. I know that he spoke to me first, and that Molly interrupted him and said something about feeling a great deal happier and not minding so much now that she was going to be married. I remember that she held her handkerchief up to her eyes as if she had been crying, and that the Count seemed very pleased and satisfied and patted her on the shoulder.
"Then almost before I knew what was happening we were walking down the stairs together. I heard him talking, but I don't know the least what he said, because when we got to the head of the banisters I suddenly caught sight of Tony and Mr. Dale standing in the hall, and somehow that put everything else out of my head. It was all I could do to stop giving a shout and rushing down to them."
"Well, you didn't show any sign of it," said Tony. "I never saw a more dignified descent in my life."
"I am sure I should have dropped dead from sheer excitement," remarked Lady Jocelyn sympathetically. "It's marvellous what sound nerves you've got, Isabel; considering the shocking way your father used to drink."
"It all happened so quickly," said Isabel, "I simply didn't have time to do anything silly. I just got straight into the car, and in another minute we were rushing away down the hill, and nothing in the whole world seemed to matter then."
"And how about the drive back and the battle on the beach?" inquired Lady Jocelyn. "Come along, Tony, I insist upon knowing everything."
"Oh, the first part was very simple," said Tony. "We dropped dear old Paqueta at the point where we picked him up, and I think he was quite sorry to say good-bye to us. Then we jogged along comfortably till we came to Portriga. Of course we were on the lookout for trouble there, because of the row we had had with the policeman in the morning. Nothing happened, however, until we were just reaching the beach, and then two savage looking gentlemen jumped out at us in the most unfriendly way. We should have been quite all right, only as luck would have it there was a big cart drawn right across the track that ran down to the jetty. We couldn't pass it, so we had to pull up and get out. After that—" he broke off with a smile, "well, you had better ask Guy to tell you the rest," he finished. "He's so saturated with blood and slaughter that he will be able to do justice to it."
"Go on, Guy," said Lady Jocelyn. "Don't mind my feelings."
"He is talking the most absolute nonsense," exclaimed Guy indignantly. "Bugg and I were waiting on the quay—we had come ashore with the Captain to fetch him—and of course when we saw them being attacked we naturally came to their help. Tony had already knocked down about three people, so there was practically nothing left for us to do. I am afraid I did shoot one of the policemen with a revolver that I happened to have with me, but I am thankful to say that he was only wounded in the shoulder."
"He's ashamed of himself," said Tony mercilessly; "that's what's the matter. Why he came up the beach like a roaring tiger, and if it hadn't——"
There was a knock at the door, and almost simultaneously Ellen presented herself on the threshold.
"If you please, M'lady, Mr. Henry Conway has called."
"Henry!" repeated Tony; "what a joke. It just needed Henry to make the party perfect."
Lady Jocelyn looked round her with an exclamation of dismay.
"Oh dear!" she exclaimed. "I quite forgot to tell you I was expecting him. He rang up early this morning and left a message that he was coming round. I think he wants to know where you are, Tony."
"I am not quite sure myself yet," said Tony; "but I shall be delighted to give him all the information I have." He got up from the sofa. "Besides," he added, "it will be a good opportunity to introduce him to Isabel."
"Are you serious?" demanded Guy. "Do you really mean you want to see him?"
"Certainly I do," replied Tony. "I think people ought to meet their new relations as soon as possible."
"Very well," said Lady Jocelyn. "Show him up, Ellen." Then she turned to Tony. "Are you going to tell him everything?"
"Of course not," said Tony. "We must keep Isabel's past an absolute secret between ourselves. I have given my word to Da Freitas about that."
"But you know what Henry is," objected Guy. "He is sure to ask all sorts of questions right away."
"Well, if he does," said Tony, "we must give him an evasive answer—like the sailor."
Before Guy had recovered from this reply, footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, and the next moment Henry was ushered into the room.
As he caught sight of its occupants he paused dramatically on the threshold; his naturally stolid face expanding into an expression of the utmost surprise.
"You here!" he exclaimed, addressing himself to Tony. "Why I have been hunting London for you the last twenty-four hours."
"I hope you had good sport," said Tony.
"I wish you wouldn't disappear like that and not leave any address behind," proceeded Henry in an aggrieved voice, "I had some very important business I wished to see you about."
"I am so sorry," replied Tony; "but as a matter of fact I had some very important business too." He took Isabel's hand, and assisted her up from the sofa. "I have been getting engaged to be married."
For a moment Henry stared at him in dumb amazement.
"Is—is this a fact?" he stammered.
"I should think it was," replied Tony cheerfully. "Let me introduce you to Isabel. This is Cousin Henry, Isabel. I'm sure you'll get along together splendidly."
By a tremendous effort Henry managed to pull himself together.
"You must forgive me," he said with a quite creditable bow to Isabel. "Tony took me so completely by surprise I scarcely knew what I was saying." He turned to Lady Jocelyn and Guy. "Why have I heard nothing about this?" he demanded.