d assurance.

On a semi-circular stone bench that backed the roadside hedge Isabel
sat and hugged her knees and here a few moments later she was joined by
Flora.

"He's a topper, your man," said Flora. "A downright first rater."

Isabel grinned an acknowledgment.

"Did he have any trouble in getting away?"

"Awful, I believe, but--but they had a plan which he said would make it
easy."

On the road side of the hedge, barely three feet away, a clergyman, who
apparently was seeking protection from the sun, moved sharply and
cocked a listening ear.

"What plan?"

"He didn't tell me that and anyhow I shouldn't be allowed to repeat it."

The listening clergyman looked disappointed.

"Do you know what he was going after?"

"Yes, I know."

"Wouldn't care to tell anyone, I s'pose. I'm as safe as a house."

"I'm certain you are, only----"

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter so long as he got away all right. He did
get away all right, didn't he?"

"Yes, I--I think so--he must have or his servant, Doran, would have
told me."

Harrison Smith, on the far side of the hedge, pushed back his clerical
hat and frowned deeply.

"And you had no message?"

Isabel shook her head.

"None. So I just tell myself everything is all right."

"Oh, I'm sure it is--certain," said Flora ecstatically. "It's bound to
be. Mr. Anthony'd never let himself be beaten by any crowd." She
paused. "If only one could be in it--but nothing ever happens down
here. Are you staying much longer?"

"Going back tomorrow or the next day. I must be in Town on the night
of the 18th."

"That the day he's expected?"

"Yes, at eleven o'clock."

"Wish I could be there to give him a cheer when he comes in."

Isabel slipped an arm through Flora's.

"It's great of you to be so keen," she said.

"Think so," Flora replied. "Jolly sporting of you not to mind. We've
got a bit of a 'pash' on Mr. Anthony, you know."

"I thought you had," said Isabel sympathetically.

"Kind of hero worship it is. Nothing to bother about 'cos as matter of
fact we're all engaged--'cept Cook who hates men. But even Cook can't
help admiring him. Be a sport and let us know if he gets through all
right. You could 'phone."

"I will."

"Any notion which port he'll arrive at?"

"Couldn't say. I've a sort of idea that it might be one of the little
Cornish fishing villages."

"What makes you think so?"

"No particular reason only----"

"Yes, go on--be a p