“Ruby,” he called, “come and help me to drag the boat a little nearer;” and as Ruby came close he whispered to her, “I’ve done it—splendidly—he’s shut up in his tower! Locked in, and the locks are good strong ones—now we can have a jolly good spree without that prig of a fellow. Only don’t let Mavis know till we’re safe out in the boat.”
Ruby jumped with pleasure.
“What fun!” she exclaimed. “How capital! You have been clever, Bertrand. But take care, or Mavis will suspect something. Quick, Mavis,” she went on, turning to her sister, “help us to pull in the boat. There, we can jump in now, Bertrand. You and Mavis steady it while I spring;” and in another moment she was in the boat, where her sister and Bertrand soon followed her.
All seemed well; the sky was clear and bright, the sun still shining. The faces of two of the party were sparkling with glee and triumph. But Mavis looked frightened and dissatisfied.
“I wish Winfried had come back with you, Bertrand,” she said. “Why didn’t he? Did cousin Hortensia keep him for anything?”
“Goodness, no,” said Bertrand. “What a fuss you make, child! He’s all right; you can look out for him, and tell me if you see him coming. I shall have enough to do with rowing you two.”
“Winfried doesn’t find the boat hard to row,” said Mavis; “it’s your own fault if it is hard. You might as well wait for him; he’d see us as he comes down the cliffs.”
“Oh no, that would be nonsense,” said Ruby hastily; “besides, he’s not coming that way. You heard Bertrand say so. I could row too, Bertrand,” she went on.
But the boy had already got his oars in motion, and though he was neither skilful nor experienced, strange to say the little boat glided on with the utmost ease and smoothness.
“There now,” said Bertrand, considerably surprised, to tell the truth, at his own success, “didn’t I tell you I could row?”