"Well, they're pretty straight sailing, aren't they?" replied Jimmy. "There's plenty of petrol in the car, so all we've got to do is to go ashore and start off." "Who's we?" demanded Molly. "You and I and Tony?" "Can't I come too?" inquired Guy in a rather disappointed voice. "I'm quite ready to do my share--whatever it is?" Tony got up from where he was sitting and laid a sympathetic hand on his cousin's shoulder.. "I know that, Guy," he aid. "I know that you would cut the throats of half Livadia if it would help Isabel in any way. The point is that we can't afford to do any fighting this trip. We have got to bring it off peacefully, if we bring it off at all, and it's quite possible that the real danger will be at this end, and not at the Château. I told you what Saltero said about the police here. Well, don't you see, if they chose to interfere they might put the hat on everything. I want you to take charge while we're away, and whatever happens--even if you have to murder every policeman in the town--there must be a nice comfy boat awaiting us when we get back." Guy nodded grimly. "Very well," he said; "you can count on that, if there're any of us left alive!" CHAPTER XXII GETTING ACCESS TO ISABEL It was almost exactly half an hour later, when the _Betty's_ gig, skilfully piloted by the second officer, drew up alongside the jetty. Tony, Jimmy, and Molly scrambled out in turn--the latter carrying a small prayer-book in her hand and lending a pleasant air of respectability to the party. Braxa still lay bathed in a rich tranquillity: the only other occupants of the sun-warmed causeway being a couple of nondescript gentlemen, who had been leaning over the low rail, watching the approach of the boat and spitting thoughtfully into the sea. These two eyed the new arrivals with a certain languid curiosity, but beyond that they betrayed no apparent interest in their proceedings. "It's amazing to me," said Tony, looking round, "that any one could have had the bad taste to start a revolution here. It's like brawling in a mortuary." "Oh, you mustn't judge Livadia by this place," protested Jimmy. "There are enough scoundrels in Portriga to make up for any shortage elsewhere." He took out a small rusty key from his pocket. "Come along," he added. "If we hang about admiring the view we shall probably have Saltero's policemen after us." He led the way down the jetty towards a roughly built wooden shed which stood a few yards back on the beach, and unfastening the padlock, threw open the door. Inside, amongst a medley of fishing nets and other nautical obstructions, stood a large travel-stained motor car with steel studded tyres. It was evidently in good order, for it started with the first pull up of the handle, and having seated himself at the steering-wheel, Jimmy brought it deftly out on to the hard beaten sandy track which ran up into the main road.