“Do you think we’re anywhere near the island?” said Dick, at last. “I’m getting tired of this!”

“Yes, we must be,” said Julian. “In fact I think we’d better be as quiet as we can, in case we come suddenly on the enemy!”

So, without speaking again, they went as quietly as they could — and then suddenly they saw a faint light ahead of them. Julian put out his hand to stop the others.

They were nearing the cave where George’s father had his books and papers — where George had found him the night before. Timmy stood in front of them, listening too. He was not going to run headlong into danger!

They heard voices, and listened intently to see whose they were. “George’s — and Uncle Quentin’s,” said Julian at last. And as if Timmy had also satisfied himself that those were indeed the two voices, the dog ran ahead and went into the lighted cave, barking joyfully.

“Timmy!” came George’s voice, and they heard something overturn as she sprang up. “Where have you been?”

“Woof,” said Timmy, trying to explain. “Woof!”

And then Julian and Dick ran into the cave followed by Martin! Uncle Quentin and George stared in the very greatest amazement.

“Julian! Dick! And Martin! How did you get here?” cried George, while Timmy jumped and capered round her.

“I’ll explain,” said Julian. “It was Timmy that fetched us!” And he related the whole story of how Timmy had come into Kirrin Cottage in the early morning and had jumped on his bed, and all that had happened since.

And then, in their turn, Uncle Quentin and George told all that had happened to them!

“Where are the two men?” asked Julian.

“Somewhere on the island,” said George. “I went scouting after them some time ago, and followed them up to where they get out into the little stone room. I think they’re there until half past ten, when they’ll go up and signal, so that people will think everything is all right.”

“Well, what are our plans?” said Julian. “Will you come back down the passage under the sea with us? Or what shall we do?”

“Better not do that,” said Martin, quickly. “My guardian may be coming — and he’s in touch with other men. If he wonders where I am, and thinks something is up, he may call in two or three others, and we might meet them making their way up the passage.”

They did not know, of course, that Mr Curton was even then lying with a broken leg at the bottom of the quarry. Uncle Quentin considered.

“I’ve been given seven hours to say whether or not I will give the fellows my secret,” he said. “That time will be up just after half past ten. Then the men will come down again to see me. I think between us we ought to be able to capture them — especially as we’ve got Timmy with us!”