our lives
are worth."

"It is evident," returned Hubert Varrick, excitedly, "that there is some
fearful mystery, and it is our duty to try to fathom it if it is within
our power."

"As you say, sir," replied the man.

At this moment the skiff grated sharply upon the sand, and the two men
sprung out.

They had scarcely proceeded half the distance to the house when they
were suddenly confronted by a man.

"Who are you, and what do you want here?" he asked.

"I must see the master of Wau-Winet Island," returned Varrick, sternly.
"Are you he?"

"No," returned the man, rather uneasily. "He left the island scarcely
five minutes ago in his boat. I am only the man working about the
place."

"Tell me," cried Varrick, earnestly, "was there a lady with him? I will
pay you well to answer me."

The man's gaze shifted uneasily.

"There was no lady with him. I suppose that you have heard the strange
story about this island, and have come to investigate the matter. Let me
tell you, it is more than annoying to my master. Had he heard it he
never would have bought the place. As it is he has left it for good and
all to-night, and is going to advertise the place for sale. If they had
told my master, when he came here to buy, the story that a young and
beautiful woman was supposed to have been murdered here many years ago,
and that at nights her spirit haunts the place, he never would have
bought it. Other people imagine that they seen it; but we, who live
here, never have."

The man told this with such apparent earnestness and truth, that Varrick
was mystified. Had his eyes deceived him? They evidently had. And then
again he told himself that, thinking so much of Gerelda, he had imagined
that the face he had seen for a moment in the flash-light bore a
striking resemblance to hers. And he persuaded himself to believe that
the fisherman's story was a myth.

He well knew that, of all people in the world, fishermen loved to spin
the most exaggerated yarns, and be the heroes of the greatest
adventures.

He got out of the matter as gracefully as only Varrick could,
apologizing for his intrusion, and expressing himself as only too
pleased to know that his imagination had simply been at fault.

"Will you come in?" asked the man, turning to him. "My master has always
given orders that we are to be very hospitable to strangers."

"You are very kind, and I thank you for your courtesy," returned
Varrick, "but I think not. We will