ined to solitary communion while taking the measure
of his self-dissatisfaction.

It was indeed the end of a very imperfect day for Mr. Philip Kendrick.
As he descended the stairs to the Canoe Club his thoughts were
troubled. At that hour there was nobody about, but he let himself in
with a special key which he carried for such contingencies. He found
the suitcase undisturbed where he had left it and soon had his canoe in
the water. A moment later he was driving into the thick wall of fog
with strong, practiced strokes, heading straight across the bay for
Centre Island.

The fog gave him little concern. This land-locked Toronto Bay he knew
like a well-marked passage in a favorite book and at two o'clock in the
morning it was not necessary to nose along cautiously, listening for
the approach of water craft. Away to the right the lights of the
amusement park on Hanlan's Point had gone out long ago, before the fog
settled down like a wet blanket. The ferries had stopped running for
the night. Even the "belt line boat," _Lulu_,--last hope of bibulous
or belated Islanders--was back in her slip, funnel cold, lights out.
The whole deserted waterfront lay wrapped in the shroud of the fog,
lulled by the lap of water against pilings and the faint creakings of
small craft at their moorings.

As the solitary canoe poked out for the open bay these minor sounds
fell behind and were replaced by the steady purl of water under the
bow. It filled with pleasing monotone the interludes between the
fussing of the yard-engine back on the railway trackage and the
blatancy of the foghorn at the Eastern Gap, every half minute bawling
its warning into the open lake beyond.

There was nobody over at the big summer residence on Centre Island
except Mrs. Parlby, the housekeeper, and her husband who acted as
gardener. The place belonged to Kendrick's uncle, the Honorable Milton
Waring, and it was usual for them to open the big house about the end
of May. This year, however, his aunt and uncle had chosen to spend the
summer at Sparrow Lake and for the past week they had been up at a
rented cottage in the woods, leaving Phil behind in charge of the
Island residence.

In response to a wire from his uncle, requesting him to join them at
once and bring along certain articles which had been overlooked, he had
packed his suitcase and paddled across to the city in the morning,
intending to take the train for Sparrow Lake. A chance meeting w