“Well, goodness knows we don’t want to worry the poor beggar!” remarked Jack, in masculine sympathy. “Can I be engine-man, Miss Earle?”
“Yes, please. And will you steer, Judy?”
“Don’t you want to? Oh, I’d love to—and then it’ll be all our expedition and you’ll just be the Admiral and not do any work!” Judy hugged me in her ecstasy. “We know Southport quite well, you see—we’ve often been there in the launch, so we can do it all ourselves.” Joy overcame her: she jumped up and pranced round the room wildly.
“Judy, you villain, be quiet, or I won’t let you be even a cabin-boy,” I said, laughing. “You have got to be absolutely steady and silent—both of you. Now go on with your reading while I get ready.”
I peeped at Mrs. McNab, who was still sleeping heavily; and then ran up to her study, the key of which was in my care. The suit-case was on the table: I glanced inside it, to make sure that the money was there. Yes, it was all safe—a neat package of crisp bank-notes, tucked into a stout envelope among the clothes. Locking the study, I carried the suit-case down to my room, and found a long coat, into the pocket of which I slipped an electric torch, with a dark veil to tie over my hair. Then I scribbled on a half-sheet of notepaper: “Gone with Judy and Jack—please don’t worry,” and put it on a little tray with nourishment: a glass of milk and one of barley-water, with a saucer of chicken jelly. Mrs. McNab did not stir as I put the tray on the table beside her bed.
“Please go on sleeping,” I whispered. “I’ll take great care of your babies.” There was no sound but her heavy breathing, and I tiptoed out. I found Judy and Jack returning ecstatically from arranging dummy figures in their beds. We extinguished all the lights in our part of the house, and in a few moments we were hurrying across the paddock. It was barely nine o’clock.
There was no doubt that the presence of my two outlaws gave our expedition the air of a joyous adventure. Mrs. McNab and I had come in fear and trembling, seeing danger in every shadow; but with Judy and Jack I raced merrily down to the shore, and we stowed ourselves in the launch and pushed off with much ridiculous pomp and ceremony, as befitted a lordly Admiral with a crew sworn to be faithful. To the children it was simply a colossal lark, spiced with a glorious touch of mystery; it was easy enough to take their view of it and share their delight, until Shepherd’s Island suddenly showed before us. Then we ran in silently, and I got out and went up the slope for a little way, giving the signal of three low whistles—at which I could feel the new thrill that ran through Judy and Jack. Three whistles—and a hunted man in the dark! And to think that we, who shared this wonder, had a week ago played at pirates, like children, with gulls for foes!
Ronald Hull came running down with long strides.
“Is that you, Marie?” he breathed. “Have you heard from Transom?”
“Mrs. McNab is ill,” I told him curtly. “She has sent me in her place. The letter came this morning, and we are ready to take you to Southport, now.”