Guy must have heard the car turning in at the drive, for as they drew up in front of the house, he flung open the door and stepped out to meet them. He looked white and haggard in the bright morning sunshine.
"You got my wire?" was his first remark.
Tony, who was at the wheel, nodded his head, and climbed stiffly out of his seat. Hardened as he was to rapid driving, he felt something like a momentary reaction now that the return journey had been accomplished without disaster.
"Come into the house, Guy," he said. "You look like an advertisement for Sanatogen."
They entered the hall, where Tony took off his coat and threw it across the back of one of the chairs.
"Now," he said. "Tell me all about it."
"Da Freitas has got hold of Isabel," said Guy, making an effort to speak quietly. "She left Chester Square at nine o'clock this morning, and we have heard nothing of her since."
There was a brief pause.
"Go on," said Tony. "How did it happen?"
"It was my fault," answered Guy with a sort of harsh bitterness, "at least very largely it was. I spent practically all yesterday with Debenham trying to fix up about the Stanley estate. It was absolutely necessary to get the thing settled before we left England. Finally I went back to dinner at his house, and I didn't get home here till nearly one-o'clock. Spalding had left your letter in my bedroom, but somehow or other—I was tired out and half asleep I suppose—I managed to overlook it, I had left instructions I wasn't to be waked up till nine o'clock this morning, and when Spalding came to call me, there was your letter on the dressing-table."
He paused.
"Directly I had read it I went down-stairs and rang up Chester Square. The housemaid answered the telephone, and said that Isabel had just left the house, and that Aunt Fanny was still in bed. When I asked if Isabel had mentioned any reason for going out so early, she said that Spalding had rung up a quarter of an hour before and said that you wanted Miss Francis to come over here in a taxi as soon as possible. Well, of course, I guessed there was something wrong at once. I sent for Spalding, and as I expected, he told me that he hadn't been near the telephone all the morning. I was getting really frightened now, so I told the girl to put me through to Aunt Fanny, who has got another receiver in her bedroom. Then it all came out. Somebody, who pretended to be Spalding, had rung up at about twenty to nine and asked for Isabel. He had said you wanted her here, and that she was to take a taxi along as soon as she could manage it. Isabel evidently hadn't the faintest suspicion that it wasn't all right. Aunt Fanny was asleep at the time, and she wouldn't allow her to be waked up. She had just put on her hat and got into a taxi that was waiting a little way down the Square, and that's the very last that any of us have heard of her." Guy's voice shook, but with an effort he managed to control it. "They've got her, Tony," he added despairingly. "I would have given my right hand to have stopped it, but what's the good now? They've got her, and we shall never see her again."
Tony laid his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "My dear old Guy," he said quietly: "it wasn't your fault. If any one has been to blame, it's me." He took a couple of turns across the room and came back to where Guy was standing. "Hang it," he said ruefully. "I had no idea I was so fond of Isabel."
Guy looked up at him with a rather twisted smile. "I knew you would find it out eventually, Tony," he said. "It's a pity it's happened too late."
"Too late be damned," observed Tony calmly. "Even if Da Freitas has got hold of her, do you imagine I am going to let him keep her? I know now that I want Isabel more than anything else in the world. I have always been accustomed to have what I want, and it's a very bad thing to change one's habits suddenly at my age."
Guy made a kind of hopeless gesture with his hands. "But what can you do?" he demanded. "You have seen the papers this morning—you know what's happening in Livadia? The odds are they will take her straight over there and marry her to Pedro right away."
"Then I shall go over and fetch her back," replied Tony firmly. "I am not going to allow any silly old-fashioned ideas about the sanctity of marriage to interfere with my life's happiness."
Guy opened his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly interrupted by the grinding scrunch of a second motor pulling up abruptly outside the house. Almost at the same moment the bell rang with a prolonged violence that echoed up from the basement.
"I rather think that must be Congosta," said Tony.
He crossed the hall, and pulling back the latch, opened the front door.
The visitor was Señor Congosta, but his most intimate friends might have been pardoned if for a moment they had failed to recognize him. Hatless, dishevelled, and with a long smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, he looked as if he had been taking part in a rather closely contested Irish election.
"So!" he observed, drawing himself up and glaring at Tony, "you have betrayed me."
Tony stepped towards him.
"Don't be silly," he said. "Come along in and sit down."
He thrust his arm through the Livadian's, and before the latter could protest he had brought him to a chair and practically pushed him into it. "You had better have a drink right away," he added. "You look done to the world. Get the whisky, will you, Guy?"
Guy started off to do as he was asked, and before the disgruntled Señor had properly recovered himself Tony turned back to him with a disarming smile.
"Sorry to have been so snappy," he said. "I suppose you have just found out about Isabel, and of course you would think we were scoundrels—naturally."
With an effort Congosta managed to regain his power of speech.
"You know what has happened?" he demanded hoarsely. "You know where she is?"
"I have just heard that she was decoyed away from Chester Square by a false telephone message at nine o'clock this morning. For the moment I have no idea where she is. If I had I shouldn't be sitting here."
"Then you shall know!" gripping the arm of the chair, Congosta bent forward towards him. "She is a drugged and helpless prisoner on the Vivid. By now she is half-way down the Thames on her way to Livadia."
There was a second's pause, and then Guy reappeared from the dining-room with the whisky and soda.
"Do you hear that, Guy?" said Tony. "Señor Congosta says that Isabel is on board the Vivid, and that they have already started for Livadia."
Guy came up and put down the tray he was carrying.
"I knew it," he said hopelessly. "We shall never see her again—never."
"And whose fault is that?" demanded Congosta, striking the arm of the chair with his fist. "Did you not promise me that she should be safe? Did I not leave the honour of my country in your hands?"
"You did," said Tony, "and we have let you down with a bump."
He splashed some whisky and soda into a glass and held it out to the Livadian, who sat there glowering at them both with angry suspicion.
"Come, Señor," he added persuasively, "drink that up and you'll feel better. Whatever else we do, it's no good quarrelling amongst ourselves."
Congosta, who really did appear to be badly in need of it, gulped off a couple of mouthfuls of the stimulant, and set down the tumbler.
"Now listen to me," said Tony, speaking very slowly and quietly. "I admit that things look queer and I admit that you have every right to feel suspicious. But there has been no treachery. You can get that idea out of your head right away. I moved Isabel to Chester Square because I thought it was the safest place she could be in. We took every precaution, and I haven't the faintest motion how Da Freitas found out her address. It has been just as big a smack in the eye to us as it is to you."
Either the drink or else Tony's unwonted earnestness evidently brought some sort of conviction to the visitor. Once again his shattered faith in the British aristocracy seemed slowly to revive, and rising to his feet, he bowed stiffly to his two companions.
"Gentlemen!" he said. "I spoke hastily. I ask your pardon."
"If there is any apologizing to be done," said Tony, "it's up to me. I have underrated Da Freitas all through in the most fatuous way—and this is the result!"
Congosta reseated himself.
"Please tell me exactly what happened this morning," he said.
"Somebody rang up the house in Chester Square and pretended to be my butler," answered Tony. "He said that I wanted Isabel to come here at once in a taxi. Unfortunately the lady she is staying with was still asleep, and instead of waking her up and asking her advice, Isabel seems to have gone straight outside and got into a taxi that was waiting in the Square. That's the last we have heard of her."
Congosta nodded. "I can give you the rest of the story," he said. "For three days I have rented a little room close to an empty warehouse opposite to where the Vivid was lying. There is a wharf just below where any one would start from if he wished to reach the vessel. Always there is someone in that room—I or another—watching and waiting. Last night, late and in the dark, a cart came down with luggage and packages. They took them on board, and I knew then that Da Freitas' plans were ready. Very early this morning they began to get up steam on the yacht. I stayed there, watching from the window, and at ten o'clock a boat put off with four men in it. They were all Livadians—one I knew well by sight. I had seen him at Richmond with Da Freitas. When they got to the wharf, they came ashore and fastened up the boat. They were evidently expecting someone, because two of them took it in turns to watch, while the others went across the roadway to drink."
Congosta paused, and taking out his handkerchief pressed it against his lip.
"Just before midday," he went on, "a big closed car came quickly along the lane and pulled up at the wharf. There was no one about at the moment except the four sailors. I saw Pedro open the door and get out, and then almost before I could realize what was happening there was my Royal mistress, drugged, helpless, hardly able to stand—with the Count on one side of her and Da Freitas on the other."
He stopped again and took in a long breath.
"I think for a little while I was mad. It would have been better, far better, if I had not shown myself. Then I could have got away quickly and something might still have been arranged. But for the moment I was so full of rage and disappointment that I did not know what I was doing. I only remember running downstairs—my mind made up that I would kill Da Freitas. Then I was amongst them; and had it been any one else my knife would have been in his heart before they could have stopped me. But I think that black, smiling devil cannot be surprised. Even as I flung myself at him, he dragged the Princess in front of him, and I could not strike for the fear that I might hurt her. Then in a moment I was beaten to the ground. I fought bravely—splendidly, but what could I do against six men? I must have been stunned by the blow on the head from behind, for I remember nothing more until I came to my senses again in the small wide shop across the street. Someone had found me lying on the wharf, and they had carried me in there thinking that I was dead."
Once more he stopped, and reaching out a rather shaky hand for the tumbler finished off the whisky and soda.
"Are you badly hurt?" asked Guy, who had been listening to the narrative with a mixture of amazement and concern.
Congosta put his hand to his forehead. "It is nothing serious. Only my head aches very much. I think they would have killed me if it had not been for my hat."
"Let's have a look," said Tony. "I know a little about cracked skulls."
He came round to where Congosta was sitting, and bending over the latter's chair, very carefully parted the hair at a place where it was matted with congealed blood.
"It's a nasty bump," he said sympathetically; "but I don't think there is any real damage done. You must have a very good hatter."
"Shall I fetch some hot water and bathe it for you?" suggested Guy, getting up from his seat.
Congosta raised his hand protestingly. "It will wait," he said with a certain grimness. "What we are speaking of will not."
Tony seated himself on the arm of the opposite chair. "Go on," he said. "What happened when you came round?"
"For a little while," continued Congosta, "I could remember nothing. Then suddenly it all came back to me, and somehow the shock seemed to make me strong again. The people in the wine shop wished to send for the police, but I would not let them. Instead I paid them to get me a taxi. I had made up my mind that first I would come to you, and that I would find out the truth. I could see from the window that the yacht had already moved from her moorings, and I knew that it was now too late for anything except to warn my friends in Livadia. That—and to be revenged upon you, if you had betrayed me."
There was a pause.
"It's horrible to be so helpless," said Guy with a sort of groan. "Is there nothing that we can do? I suppose there would be no chance of getting them held up for an hour or two at Southend?"
"What for?" asked Tony languidly.
"There's—there's this assault upon Señor Congosta."
The latter shook his head. "It would be useless," he said. "I know well that your government will be only too pleased that they have gone. The police would not be allowed to interfere even if they wished to."
"But we must do something," exclaimed Guy almost fiercely.
Tony got up from his seat. "I know what I'm going to do," he said. "I am going to follow them to Livadia."
For an instant both of them stared at him without speaking.
"But how do you expect to get there?" demanded Congosta incredulously. "The steamers from England are stopped, and all the frontier is in the hands of Da Freitas' soldiers. No one will be allowed to enter the country until the Revolution is over."
"That doesn't matter to me," said Tony. "I have a private yacht of my own."
The news seemed to produce a remarkable effect upon Congosta.
"A private yacht!" he repeated, rising abruptly to his feet. "And you mean what you say? You mean that you will sail for Portriga now—immediately—at once?"
"Well, say to-morrow morning," suggested Tony. "That will give us time to get on board first."
By now all Congosta's headache and exhaustion seemed magically to have vanished.
"My friend!" he ejaculated fervently, "my dear Sir Antony! You may yet be of the truest service to my unhappy country."
"But look here!" broke in Guy, who had also risen from his chair and was gazing from one to the other of them. "This is all very well, but what on earth's the use of it? Even if we got to Portriga you don't suppose we should have the faintest chance of being able to do anything!"
"I don't like looking too far ahead," said Tony. "It shows a lack of trust in Providence."
Congosta wheeled round excitedly to Guy. "Señor!" he exclaimed. "I assure you that you may yet save Livadia." He turned back to Tony. "You have seen this morning's paper? You know the truth about what has happened?"
"I have seen the Daily Mail," said Tony guardedly.
"So! That is right, what they have written, but there is later news." He thrust his hand into his breast pocket, and dragging out some papers, selected a crumpled cable form, which he opened with shaking fingers. "Even now General Almaida is in Portriga. He holds the whole town south of the river."
"Do you mean that you're in communication with them?" demanded Guy. "I thought all the wires had been cut."
"We were not without our preparations," returned Congosta with a vindictive smile. "The way is still open. It will not be closed so long as General Almaida is undefeated."
"And how long is that likely to be?" asked Tony.
Congosta drew himself up.
"Señor!" he replied dramatically. "It rests with you."
There was a short pause.
"Well?" said Tony encouragingly.
"There are two things in which our brave army is lacking—ammunition and money. If we can help them with these——"
Tony nodded. "What's the idea—exactly?" he asked.
Congosta took a step forward, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. He began to speak in a low, rapid voice.
"A week ago, by the instructions of General Almaida, I gave an order to one of your English houses for a supply of cartridges. The money was to have been sent to me, and we had arranged a plan for getting them safely across. Had the revolution not broken out they would now be on their way. As it is—!" he made a quick expressive gesture with his hands—"The money has not come, and even if I could pay there is no vessel that could take them to Livadia."
He paused for breath.
"We haven't a cargo license for the Betty," said Tony, "but I don't know that it really matters."
Congosta came nearer still. "You will do it," he gasped. "You will lend us this money? You will take the cartridges on your yacht?"
Tony nodded again. "Why, of course," he said. "It's the least I can do after losing Isabel in that careless fashion."
With an exclamation of joy Congosta seized hold of his hand, and commenced wringing it violently up and down.
"My friend," he exclaimed with tears in his eyes. "How can I ever thank you?"
"But Good Heavens!" interrupted Guy, drawing in his breath. "Do you realize what this means? It's—it's—filibustering—piracy—buccaneering——"
"Is it?" said Tony—"what fun! I have always wanted to be a buccaneer ever since I was thirteen." He disentangled himself with some difficulty from the clutches of Congosta. "Don't worry, Guy," he added, "you needn't be mixed up with it in any way."
"What!" For a moment Guy's indignation rendered him almost speechless. "Do you suppose I am thinking of myself? Do you imagine I shall desert you—now—at this time?"
"There is not the danger that the Señor fancies," broke in Congosta with a kind of feverish eagerness. "Listen! I will explain!" He turned to Tony. "You have heard of Braxa?"
"I don't think so," said Tony regretfully. "You see I was educated at Eton."
"It is a fishing village—a small fishing village and harbour twenty miles south of Portriga. The people there are different from most of my countrymen. They are all fishermen, and they do not concern themselves much with politics."
"It sounds just the sort of quiet and sensible place one would like to visit," observed Tony.
"So! You understand what I mean!" Congosta's excitement became almost painful to witness. "You are on a voyage of pleasure! You come into the harbour in your yacht. My people will be expecting you. In an hour the cartridges will be on shore, and then—" he paused and the same vindictive smile gathered in his eyes, "there may yet be a little hitch in the clever plans of the Marquis da Freitas."
"It's a great idea," said Tony admiringly. "So simple and safe! Why we needn't even land if we don't want to."
"But what would be the good?" began Guy.
He got no further, for he suddenly caught sight of his cousin's face, as the latter looked round at him, and its expression dried up the question that he was about to utter.
"These cartridges," inquired Tony, turning back to Congosta with his previously serene air. "How long do you think it would take to get them to Southampton?"
"There need be no delay," replied the Livadian. "It is only a question of the money. As soon as they are paid for I can arrange for them to be sent down on motor lorry. They would go to-night."
Tony nodded approvingly. "And how about your message to Livadia? It won't be an easy thing to explain. None of your people have ever heard of me except Colonel Saltero, and I don't think I impressed him very favourably."
Congosta dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand.
"You may leave that to me," he said. "I assure you that before he left England Colonel Saltero was convinced of your good faith. I shall arrange that it is he who will meet you at Braxa to receive the cartridges."
"But won't you be coming with us?" asked Guy.
Congosta shook his head. "I must stay in London," he answered regretfully. "It is General Almaida's wish. Should our party win it is necessary that there should be someone here to obtain recognition from your government."
"Quite so," said Tony; "quite so." He lighted himself a cigarette, and took a couple of thoughtful paces up and down the hall. Guy did not speak again, but watched him with a strained apprehension that showed itself visibly in his face.
"Tell me," said Tony, coming back to where Congosta was standing. "Could you get a message through to any one in Portriga?"
Congosta looked faintly surprised. "I cannot say. It is possible. It would depend perhaps upon what part of the town they were in." He paused. "Why do you wish to know?"
"I am a little bit anxious about a friend of mine," said Tony frankly. "He has been running a motor company in Portriga for the last two years, and from what he has told me I am afraid that he has made one or two rather awkward enemies—business enemies, you know. They are not the sort of crowd to miss a chance like this, and just in case he was in difficulties, I should like him to know that the Betty was coming to Braxa. Then if he wanted to slip out of the country quietly he could."
Congosta accepted the explanation in what appeared to be perfectly good faith.
"I understand," he said. "You shall give me your friend's name and address, and then if our people can reach him you may be sure that he will get your message."
Tony walked across to the writing-table and seated himself in the chair.
"That's good," he said cheerfully. "One doesn't like to leave a pal in the lurch—especially in Livadia."
He took a sheet of paper from the case in front of him, and in his best handwriting copied out the following address.
SEÑOR JAMES DALE,
Garage Anglais,
Praca D. Porto,
Portriga.
"I think it would be simplest," he said, "if you just told him that the Betty was expected at Braxa in two days' time. He would probably like to see me, even if there's nothing the matter."
Congosta took the paper and glanced at its contents.
"If the thing is possible it shall be done," he repeated.
Tony put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his cheque book.
"And now let's get to work," he observed. "I shall be pretty busy if we are going to sail to-morrow morning, so I think I had better leave the cartridge business entirely to you. I will give you an open cheque on my bank, and you can cash it on your way back."
Congosta nodded his approval. "That will be the easiest plan," he said. "Then I can also make the arrangements for sending them off."
"'Steam yacht Betty, Southampton,' will be enough address," continued Tony, writing the cheque as he spoke. "I will wire my captain instructions to be on the lookout for them." He blotted the slip and handed it to Congosta. "I don't know what they will come to," he added; "I have made the cheque out for four thousand."
Congosta gazed with surprised awe at the little piece of pink paper in his hand.
"Four thousand pounds?" he repeated slowly. "But it will not be so much as that!"
"Never mind," said Tony, getting up from his chair. "Ask for the rest in gold and bring it back here. We can take it along with us. If your people are as hard up as you say, I daresay a few English sovereigns will come in useful. They are a wonderfully effective weapon with Royalists as a rule."
Congosta folded up the cheque reverently, and put it away in his pocket. Then he picked up his hat.
"Señor!" he exclaimed with a tremble of emotion in his voice. "Again I offer you the thanks of my country. It is only in England that such splendid generosity is possible."
"There's nothing to thank me for," said Tony cheerfully. "It's my own stupidity and carelessness I'm paying for—that's all." He accompanied Congosta across the hall and opened the front door for him. "We shall expect you back here some time this afternoon," he added.
The Livadian nodded.
"I shall return as soon as I have arranged about the cartridges," he said. "It is best that I should not send the message until we know for certain what time you will be able to start."
Once more he clasped Tony's hand and shook it fervently, and then, after giving some instructions to the driver, he stepped into the waiting taxi, and was whirled off down the drive.
Tony came back into the hall, and closed the door. As he did so he caught sight of a note lying at the bottom of the letter-box, and taking it out discovered that it was addressed to himself.
"And now," broke out Guy, who had apparently been restraining himself with difficulty; "perhaps you'll tell me if you are really in earnest."
Tony slit open the envelope and pulled out its contents.
"Of course I'm in earnest," he answered. "I was never so—" He paused abruptly, and his lips screwed themselves up into a sudden low whistle of amused amazement. "By Jove, Guy!" he exclaimed; "look at this!"
He held out the sheet of note-paper, and then thrusting his hands into his pockets, watched his cousin's face as the latter read through the following missive.
MY DEAR SIR ANTONY CONWAY:
I much regret that I was unable to find time to say good-bye to you before leaving England.
You have a proverb I believe in your delightful language to the effect that he laughs loudest who laughs last. You will now be able to appreciate its profound truth.
Always yours sincerely,
DA FREITAS.