"Because her folks have their summer house a short distance below the
wharf, and the boat which was found drifting in South Bay belongs to
Bill Sanson up on the hill. Aren't they reasons enough?"

"It does look reasonable," the captain acknowledged. "I s'pose her pa
an' ma are about crazy over her disappearance. I know I should be
about Flo."

"Her father isn't home," the man explained. "He's away somewhere on a
business trip. As for her mother, well----" He paused, pulled a plug
of tobacco out of his pocket, and bit off a chew. Then he turned to
his companions. "Come, boys, suppose we get back? We've wasted too
much time already."

The captain watched them as they rowed away, and his eyes twinkled with
merriment. He was smiling when he returned to the cabin. The girl
there was smiling, too, although it was easy to tell that she had been
greatly agitated.

"Have they gone?" she asked in a low voice.

"Oh, yes, they've gone back to look fer you. Say, Miss, I don't like
this bizness one bit. It's a mighty spooky affair, an' gits on me
nerves. Don't ye feel a bit shaky yerself?"

"I suppose I should," the girl thoughtfully replied. "But under the
circumstances I can't. Don't you remember what that man told you?"

"About you marryin' that Lord Fiddlesticks?"