KIDNAPPING THE BRIDE
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 the
_Betty_ holding 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.