“I haven’t slept all night,” she declared. “This mustn’t happen again, Master Julian. It’s worrying me to death. And now you haven’t got George or Timmy. I tell you, if they don’t turn up soon I’ll take matters into my own hands. I haven’t heard from your uncle and aunt either — let’s hope they’re not lost, too!”

She bustled about after this outburst, and was soon frying sausages and tomatoes for them. They couldn’t wait till they were cooked, and helped themselves to great hunks of bread and butter.

“I can’t even go and wash till I’ve had something,” said Anne. “I’m glad you knew so many short cuts back here, Jo — the way didn’t seem nearly so long as when we came by bus.”

It had really been amazing to see the deft, confident manner in which Jo had taken them home, through fields and little narrow paths, over stiles and across allotments. She was never once at a loss.

They had arrived not long after Joan had got up, and she had almost cried with surprise and relief when she had seen them walking up the front path.

“And a lot of dirty little tatterdemalions you looked,” she said, as she turned their breakfast out on to a big dish. “And still do, for that matter. I’ll get the kitchen fire going for a bath for you. You might all be sister and brothers to that ragamuffin Jo.”

Jo didn’t mind remarks of this sort at all. She chewed her bread and grinned. She wolfed the breakfast with no manners at all — but the others were nearly as bad, they were so hungry!

“It’s a spade and trowel you want for your food this morning, not a knife and fork,” said Joan, disapprovingly. “You’re just shovelling it in. No, I can’t cook you any more, Master Julian. There’s not a sausage left in the house nor a bit of bacon either. You fill up with toast and marmalade.”

The bath water ran vigorously after breakfast. All four had baths. Jo didn’t want to, but Joan ran after her with a carpet beater, vowing and declaring she would beat the dust and dirt out of her if she didn’t bath. So Jo bathed, and quite enjoyed it.

They had a conference after breakfast. “About this fellow, Red Tower,” said Julian. “Who is he, Jo? What do you know about him?”

“Not much,” said Jo. “He’s rich, and he talks queer, and I think he’s mad. He gets fellows like Dad and Jake to do his dirty work for him.”

“What dirty work?” asked Dick.

“Oh — stealing and such,” said Jo, vaguely. “I don’t really know. Dad doesn’t tell me much; I just do what I’m told, and don’t ask questions. I don’t want more slaps than I get!”

“Where does he live?” said Anne. “Far away?”

“He’s taken a house on the cliff,” said Jo. “I don’t know the way by land. Only by boat. It’s a queer place — like a small castle almost, with very thick stone walls. Just the place for Red, my Dad says.”