“Yes,” said George. “Thank you. I’ll go and have a look now.”

She went to the telescope and trained it on her island. But no matter where she looked she could not see Timmy, or her father. They must be down in his workroom, wherever it was. She looked at the glass room in the top of the tower. That was empty too, of course. She sighed. It would have been nice to see Timmy.

The others had a look through as well. But nobody saw Timmy. It was plain that he was keeping close to his master — a proper little guard!

“Well — shall we go in and see what’s happened to Martin?” said Julian, when they had finished with the telescope. “It’s just about to pour with rain again — another April shower! We could wait next door till it’s over.”

“Right, let’s go,” said Dick. He looked at George. “Don’t be afraid I shall be rude, George. Now that I know Mr Curton is a journalist, I shan’t bother about him.”

“All the same — I’m not “blabbing” any more,” said George, with a grin. “I see your point now — even if it doesn’t matter, I still shan’t “blab” any more.”

“Good for you!” said Dick, pleased. “Spoken like a boy!”

“Ass!” said George, but she was pleased all the same.

They went through the front gateway of the next cottage. As they filed in, they heard an angry voice.

“Well, you can’t! Always wanting to mess about with a brush and paint. I thought I’d knocked that idea out of your head. You lie still and get that ankle better. Spraining it just when I want your help!”

Anne stopped, feeling frightened. It was Mr Curton’s voice they could hear through the open window. He was giving Martin a good talking to about something, that was plain. The others stopped too, wondering whether to go in or not.

Then they heard a bang, and saw Mr Curton leaving the cottage from the back entrance. He walked rapidly down the garden, and made for the path, that led to the back of the cliff. There was a road there that went to the village.

“Good. He’s gone. And he didn’t see us!” said Dick. “Who would have thought that such a genial, smiling fellow could have such a rough brutal voice when he loses his temper? Come on — let’s pop in and see poor Martin while there’s a chance.”

They knocked on the door. “It’s us!” called Julian, cheerfully. “Can we come in?”

“Oh yes!” shouted Martin from indoors, sounding pleased. Julian opened the door and they all went in.

“I say! We heard you’d had an accident,” said Julian. “What’s up? Are you hurt much?”

“No. It’s just that I twisted my ankle, and it was so painful to walk on that I had to be half-carried up here,” said Martin. “Silly thing to do!”

“Oh — it’ll soon be right if it’s just a twist,” said Dick. “I’ve often done that. The thing is to walk on it as soon as you can. Where were you when you fell?”