Molly moved quickly to the door and turned the key in the lock.
"Fire ahead," she observed.
A week earlier Tony would have found it quite impossible to crowd the somewhat eventful history of the last twenty-four hours into the short time at his disposal. Practice, however, had been improving his powers as a story-teller, and without omitting any really important detail, he actually accomplished the feat with something like a minute and a half to spare.
Molly was certainly an excellent audience. Standing motionless at the door, her lower lip caught tight between her white teeth, she listened to him with rapt attention that never wavered or varied. Even when he had finished she still remained silent for a moment; then with a sudden movement she came towards him, her blue eyes shining with excitement.
"Tony," she said, speaking with a sort of forced calmness, "are you absolutely serious about following them? Do you really mean to sail for Braxa to-night?"
"I do," replied Tony with quite unusual sobriety. "You see I have just found out that I am really fond of Isabel, and I don't see any other possible chance of getting her back."
"Do you think this is a possible chance?" She put the question with an earnestness that robbed it of any suggestion of sarcasm.
"Well, it's a bit thin," admitted Tony frankly, "but after all one never knows." He paused. "To a certain extent, Molly," he added, "it depends upon you."
She drew in her breath sharply. "Me?"
Tony nodded. "You're my trump card," he said encouragingly. "You know that signed pass our friend Peter was obliging enough to give you—the one which he said would take you anywhere if he ever got back to Livadia as king?"