th
the Honorable Milton Waring.

A key was being fitted into the padlock of the Waring boathouse. The
planking creaked as the strangers tip-toed inside. There appeared to
be several of them. A sloshing of water as they boarded the big
launch, then the first fitful rustlings of the engine as it was turned
over. Soon its loud staccatto rose above the wail of the foghorn.

Had the house been robbed? Phil dismissed this idea at once. No
valuables likely to invite burglary were kept at the Island residence,
even had Stinson's long and faithful service not placed him beyond
suspicion. Probably the valet had slipped away on a little holiday and
had been entertaining a few of his friends. With paddle shoved into
the mud to hold the canoe steady against the embankment so that it
would not capsize in the wash of the launch, Kendrick decided to sit
still and await developments.

The launch passed presently, so close to them that he held his breath.
One of the occupants was talking in low tones. Somebody laughed and
said: "That's a good one, Nickleby." A third voice spoke in gruff
admonition: "Shut up, you fellows! No names, please." After
that--silence, except for the slow chug of the engine and the purl of
water, diminishing. They were gone.

A breath of evident relief came from the unknown passenger in the canoe.

"Pretty close, that," she whispered. "I guess we can go now, but it
would be better not to talk till we get out on the bay."

Without a word Kendrick shoved off with his paddle and turned the nose
of the canoe for the Yacht Club channel. The launch had gone straight
down the main canal to the ferry pier before heading out into the bay
and all sound of it presently was lost. He strained his eyes to catch
a glimpse of his mysterious companion, forgetting for the moment that
even had it been broad daylight the fog would have concealed her.

He tried to decide what was the best thing to do. What sort of a game
was this that he had stumbled upon? What was this woman doing over at
the Island at 2.30 a.m. in weather like this? Who was she? Why was
she spying upon Stinson's little party, if that was what she had been
up to? It was a situation with which any young man of zest and
imagination might find interest in dallying. How should he begin?

"Pass me a paddle, Joe. It's all right to talk now." She gave a
little laugh of satisfaction and he noted that her voice was contralto
and well modulate