"I see," said Miss Rutherford, "I see it all now, or almost all. This is
far better than spies. How did you ever think of it?"

"It's true," said Priscilla.

"Lord Torrington," said Frank, "is over here stopping with my uncle, and
he came specially to find his daughter who's run away."

"'One lovely hand stretched out for aid,'" said Priscilla, "'and one was
round her lover.' That's what we want to avoid if we can. I call that an
errand of mercy. Don't you?"

"It's far and away the most merciful errand I ever heard of," said Miss
Rutherford. "But why don't you hurry? At any moment now her father's men
may reach the shore."

"We can't," said Priscilla, "hurry any more than we are. The wind's
dropping every minute. Luff her a little bit, Frank, or she won't clear
the point. The tide's taking us down, and that point runs out a terrific
distance."

"The only thing I don't quite see yet," said Miss Rutherford, "is where
the vengeance comes in."

"That's to be taken on her father," said Priscilla.

"Quite right," said Miss Rutherford, "as a matter of abstract justice;
but I rather gathered from the way you spoke, Priscilla, that Frank had
some kind of private feud with the old gentleman."

"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 me