“The good of it is this. We must keep Aunt Juliet on our side in case of accidents. She’s got a most acute mind and will throw all kinds of obstacles in the way of the pursuers. As long as she thinks that Miss Torrington—Lady Isabel, I mean—is really going in for leading a beautiful scarlet kind of life of her own; but if she once finds out that she’s gone and got married to a man, any man, even one who can’t manage a boat, she’ll be keener than any one else to have her dragged back.”
“What do you mean to do with her?” said Frank.
“We’ll plant her down on Inishbawn. That’s the safest place in the whole bay for her to be. Of course Joseph Antony Kinsella will object; but we’ll make him see that it’s his duty to succor the oppressed, and anyhow we’ll land her there and leave her. I don’t exactly know what it is that they’re doing on that island, though I can guess. But whatever it is you may bet your hat they won’t let Lord Torrington or the police or any one of that kind within a mile of it. If once we get her there she’s safe from her enemies. Every man, woman and child in the neighbourhood will combine to keep that sanctuary—bother! there’s a word which exactly expresses what a sanctuary is kept; but I’ve forgotten what it is. I came across it once in a book and looked it out in the dict. to see what it meant. It’s used about sanctuaries and secrets. Do you remember what it is?”
Frank did not give his mind to the question. He was thinking, with some pleasure, of the baffled rage of Lord Torrington when he was not allowed to land on Inishbawn. Lady Isabel would be plainly visible sitting at the door of her tent on the green slope of the island. Lord Torrington, with violent language bursting from him, would approach the island in a boat, anticipating a triumphant capture. But Joseph Antony Kinsella would sally like a rover from his anchorage and tow Lord Torrington’s boat off to some distant place. With invincible determination the War Lord would return again. From every inhabited island in the bay would issue boats, Flanagan’s old one among them. They would surround Lord Torrington, hustle and push him away. Children from cottage doors would jeer at him. Peter Walsh and Patsy, the drunken smith, would add their taunts to the chorus when at last, baffled and despairing, he landed at the quay. The vision was singularly attractive. Frank ran his hand over his bandaged ankle and smiled with joy.
“I know it’s used of secrets as well as sanctuaries,” said Priscilla, “because Aunt Juliet used to say it about the Confessional when she was thinking of being a Roman Catholic. I told you about that, didn’t I?”
“No,” said Frank. “But will they be able to stop him landing, really?”
“Of course they will. That was one of the worst times we ever had with Aunt Juliet. Father simply hated it, expecting the blow to fall every day, especially after she took to fasting frightfully hard with finnan haddocks. That was just after the time she was tremendously down on all religion and wouldn’t let him have prayers in the morning, which he didn’t mind as much; though, of course, he pretended. Fortunately she found out about uric acid just before she actually did the deed, so that was all right. It always is in the end, you know. That’s one of the really good points about Aunt Juliet. All the same I wish I could remember that word.”
“I don’t quite see,” said Frank, “how they’ll stop him landing on Inishbawn if he wants to.”
“Nor do I; but they will. If Peter Walsh and Joseph Antony Kinsella and Flanagan and Patsy the smith—they’re all in the game, whatever it is—if they determine not to let him land on Inishbawn he won’t land there.”
“But even if they keep him off for a day or two they can’t for ever.”