Her father’s face fell at the thought of the men being lost underground. He did so badly want to see their dismayed faces when they arrived in the quarry!

“We could send Timmy in,” said Julian. “He would soon find them and bring them out. Wouldn’t you, Tim?”

“Woof,” said Timmy, agreeing.

“Oh yes — that’s a good idea,” said George. “They won’t hurt him if they think he can show them the way out! Go on in, Timmy. Find them boy; find them! Bring them here!”

“Woof,” said Timmy, obligingly, and disappeared under the shelf of rock.

Everyone waited, munching sandwiches and sipping coffee. And then they heard Timmy’s bark again, from underground!

There was a panting noise, then a scraping sound as somebody came wriggling out from under the rock. He stood up — and then he saw the silent group watching him. He gasped.

“Good morning, Johnson,” said Uncle Quentin, in an amiable voice. “How are you?”

Johnson went white. He sat down on the nearby heather. “You win!” he said.

“I do,” said Uncle Quentin. “In fact, I win handsomely. Your little plan went wrong. My secret is still safe — and next year it will be given to the whole world!”

There was another scraping sound and the second man arrived. He stood up too — and then he saw the quietly watching group.

“Good morning, Peters,” said Uncle Quentin. “So nice to see you again. How did you like your underground walk? We found it better to come by sea.”

Peters looked at Johnson, and he too sat down suddenly. “What’s happened?” he said to Johnson.

“It’s all up,” said Johnson. Then Timmy appeared, wagging his tail, and went to George.

“I bet they were glad when Timmy came up to them!” said Julian.

Johnson looked at him. “Yes. We were lost in those hateful tunnels. Curton said he’d come to meet us, but he never came.”

“No. He’s probably in the prison hospital by now, with a broken leg,” said Uncle Quentin. “Well, constable — do your duty.”

Both men were at once arrested. Then the whole company made their way back over the moor. The two men were put into a police car and driven off. The rest of the company went into Kirrin Cottage to have a good meal.

“I’m most terribly hungry,” said George. “Joanna, have you got anything nice for breakfast?”

“Not much,” said Joanna, from the kitchen. “Only bacon and eggs and mushrooms!”

“Oooh!” said Anne, “Joanna, you shall have the OBCBE!”

“And what may that be?” cried Joanna, but Anne couldn’t remember.

“It’s a decoration!” she cried.

“Well, I’m not a Christmas tree!” shouted back Joanna. “You come and help with the breakfast!”

It was a very jolly breakfast that the seven of them — no eight, for Timmy must certainly be counted — sat down to. Martin, now that he was free of his guardian, became quite a different boy.

The children made plans for him. “You can stay with the coastguard, because he likes you — he kept on and on saying you weren’t a bad boy! And you can come and play with us and go to the island. And Uncle Quentin will see if he can get you into an art-school. He says you deserve a reward for helping to save his wonderful secret!”