The young man looked round him wildly at first. He was evidently bewildered after his struggle with the tent and surprised at the manner of his rescue. He gradually realised that there were strangers present. His eyes rested on Miss Rutherford. She seemed the most responsible member of the party. He pulled himself together with an effort and addressed her in a tone of suave politeness which, under the circumstances, was very surprising.
“Perhaps,” he said, “I ought to introduce myself. My name is Pennefather, Barnabas Pennefather. The Rev. Barnabas Pennefather. This is my wife, Lady Isabel Pennefather. I have a card somewhere.”
He began to fumble in various packets.
“Never mind the card,” said Priscilla. “We’ll take your word for it.”
“We,” said Miss Rutherford, “are a rescue party. We’ve been in search of you for days. This is Priscilla. This is Frank. My own name is Martha Rutherford.”
“A rescue party!” said Mr. Pennefather.
“Did mother send you after us?” said Lady Isabel. “If she did you may go away again. I won’t go back.”
“Quite the contrary,” said Priscilla, “we’re on your side.”
“In fact,” said Miss Rutherford, “we’re here to save you from——”
“At first,” said Priscilla, “we fancied you might be spies, German spies. Afterwards we found out you weren’t. That often happens you know. Just as you think you’re perfectly certain you’re right, it turns out that you’re quite wrong.”