“He shoved me off the end of the steamer’s gangway,” said Frank, “and sprained my ankle. He has never so much as said he was sorry.” “Good,” said Miss Rutherford. “Now our consciences are absolutely clear. What we are going to do is to carry off the blushing bride to some distant island.” “Inishbawn,” said Priscilla. The Tortoise had slipped through the passage at the south end of Finislaun. She was moving very slowly across another stretch of open water. On her lee bow lay Inishbawn. The island differs from most others in the bay in being twin. Instead of one there are two green mounds linked together by a long ridge of grey boulders. Tides sweep furiously round the two horns of it, but the water inside is calm and sheltered from any wind except one from the south east. On the slope of the northern hill stands the Kinsellas’ cottage, with certain patches of cultivated land around it. The southern hill is bare pasture land roamed over by bullocks and a few sheep which in stormy weather or night cross the stony isthmus to seek companionship and shelter near the cottage. “Isn’t that Inishbawn?” said Miss Rutherford. “Jimmy Kinsella told me it was the day I first met you.” “That’s it,” said Priscilla, “that’s where we mean to put her.” “It’s not half far enough away,” said Miss Rutherford. “Lord Ullin or Torrington or whatever lord it is will quite easily follow her there. We must go much further, right out into the west to High Brasail, where lovers are ever young and angry fathers do not come.” “Inishbawn will do all right,” said Priscilla. “Priscilla says,” said Frank, “that the people won’t let Lord Torrington land on Inishbawn.” “They certainly seemed to have some objection to letting any one land,” said Miss Rutherford. “Every time I suggested going there Jimmy has headed me off with one excuse or another.” “They have very good reasons,” said Priscilla. “I have more or less idea what they are; but of course I can’t tell you. It’s never right to tell other people’s secrets unless you’re perfectly sure that you know them yourself, and I’m not sure. You hardly ever can be unless you happen to be one of the people that has the secret and in this case I’m not.” “I don’t want to ask embarrassing questions,” said Miss Rutherford, “though I’m almost consumed with curiosity about the secret. But are you quite sure that it’s of a kind that will really prevent Lord Torrington landing there?” “Quite absolutely, dead, cock sure,” said Priscilla. “If I’m right about the secret and I think I am, though of course it’s quite possible that I may not be, but if I am there isn’t a man about the bay who wouldn’t die a thousand miserable deaths rather than let Lord Torrington and the police sergeant land on that island.” “Then all we’ve got to do,” said Miss Rutherford, “is to get her there and she’s safe.” Priscilla hurriedly turned over the corner of the spinnaker and got out the jam pot. She glanced at its paper cover.