In the middle of their embrace, Guy Oliver followed them into the room. With the exception of a slight trace of sunburn he looked as sedate and respectable as ever; indeed the thought of him standing on a blood-stained beach blazing away with a revolver seemed like the wildest fancy of an imaginative dipsomaniac.
"We only landed at Southampton early this morning," explained Tony penitently; "and I couldn't spoil things by telegraphing."
At this point Ellen, who had been standing contemplating the scene with the frankest curiosity, suddenly woke up to a realization of her professional lapse. With a reluctant sigh she withdrew noiselessly from the room, closing the door behind her, and dashed off downstairs to communicate the exciting tidings to her fellow-servants.
With their arms round Lady Jocelyn, Tony and Isabel conducted her gently to the sofa, and seated themselves one on each side of her. Guy took his place in an armchair facing them.
"You must forgive me, Guy," said Lady Jocelyn. "I am so happy and excited I haven't even said how do you do, and I'm sure it's all through you that I have got my mad children back alive and well."
"Of course it is," exclaimed Tony. "If Guy hadn't waded in and slaughtered half the Livadian police force on the beach, we shouldn't have had a dog's chance of getting clear. Isn't that so, Isabel?"
Isabel nodded. "He was very brave," she said gratefully. "I shall never forget how fierce and splendid he looked."
Poor Guy's face turned a vivid crimson.
"I wish I had seen him," remarked Lady Jocelyn, with considerable regret in her voice; "but it seems to me we are beginning at the wrong end." She stooped forward and picked up the Daily Mail, which had fallen to the floor. "Look at that," she added, pointing to the headlines, "and for pity's sake tell me what it all means."
"I've seen it," said Tony. "It means that even Lord Northcliffe may be deceived at times." He paused. "I didn't tell you quite everything before we started, Aunt Fanny. I had some silly idea it might worry you."