“Yes, you could!” said her father. “But you mustn’t let those men see you, George.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to, Father, anything!” said George. “But first do tell me what’s happened to Timmy?”

“Well, he kept by me all the time,” said her father. “Really, he’s a wonderful dog, George. And then, this morning, just as I was coming out of the entrance in that little room to go up into the tower with Timmy to signal, the two men pounced on me and forced me back here.”

“But what happened to Timmy?” asked George, impatiently. Would her father never tell her what she wanted to know?

“He flew at the men, of course,” said her father. “But somehow or other one of them lassoed him with a noose of rope and caught him. They pulled the rope so tight round his neck that he almost choked.”

“Oh poor, poor Timmy,” said George, and the tears ran down her cheeks. “Is he — do you think — he’s all right, Father?”

“Yes. From what I heard the men saying afterwards I think they’ve taken him to some cave and shut him in there,” said her father. “Anyway, I saw one of them getting some dog-biscuits out of a bag this evening — so that looks as if he’s alive and kicking — and hungry!”

George heaved a great sigh of relief. So long as Timmy was alive and all right! She took a few steps towards what she thought must be another cave. “I’m going to find Timmy, Father,” she said. “I must find him!”

Chapter Seventeen

Timmy at last

“No, George!” called her father sharply. “Come back. There is something very important I want to say. Come here!”

George went over to him, filled with impatience to get to Timmy, wherever he was. She must find him!

“Now listen,” said her father. “I have a book in which I have made all my notes of this great experiment. The men haven’t found it! I want you to take it safely to the mainland, George. Don’t let it out of your sight! If the men get hold of it they would have all the information they needed!”

“But don’t they know everything just by looking at your wires and machines and things?” asked George.

“They know a very great deal,” said her father, “and they’ve found out a lot more since they’ve been here — but not quite enough. I daren’t destroy my book of notes, because if anything should happen to me, my great idea would be completely lost. So, George, I must entrust it to you and you must take it to an address I will give you, and hand it to the person there.”

“It’s an awful responsibility,” said George, a little scared of handling a book which meant so much, not only to her father, but possibly to the whole of the world. “But I’ll do my best, Father. I’ll hide in one of the caves till the men come back, and then I’ll slip back up the passage to the hidden entrance, get out, go to my boat and row back to the mainland. Then I’ll deliver your book of notes without fail, and get help sent over here to you.”