“I can trust Con absolutely,” he said. “But he’s an ignorant lad, and he is lame. Would your father go with him, do you think?”
“He’ll do anything,” Jim said, quickly.
“Wally, will you bring him here?” O’Neill asked. “Hurry!” He sprang to the table and opened a touring map of Donegal. “Where’s your inlet, Jim?”
“Here,” Jim replied, promptly, indicating a tiny indentation on the rugged coast-line.
O’Neill drew a line round it with a red pencil.
“It will be quite clear on Aylwin’s charts, of course,” he said. “This will be sufficient guide to begin with. Now can you draw a rough plan of the cave and the path down to the water? I’ll explain to your father.”
Mr. Linton came hurrying in, and at Sir John’s request Wally told him the story, illustrating it with Jim’s drawing.
“I know the inlet,” David Linton said; “I walked past it the other day when I was out for an early-morning stroll. Queer, land-locked corner: I marked it down as a good bathing-place for you youngsters.”
“That’s excellent, for you’ll be able to direct them by land, if necessary. Now, will you go in the motor to Port Brandon, Mr. Linton? it’s only twenty miles, and Con knows the roads. They’re not good, but he’ll get you there quickly.”
“I’ll do anything you like,” David Linton said. “What will you do here?”