ously, but the man in gray did not turn his head.

They passed the house where the overseer had lived when he was on the
island with the crew of men who worked in the quarry--they were again
hidden from view.

Over the bank scrambled Frank. Keeping the house between him and the
men, he ran swiftly forward.

In a short time he reached the house. He paused to listen, his heart
thumping loudly.

He could hear nothing.

Then he slipped round the house. He carefully peered round each corner
before advancing. At the second corner he halted, for again he could see
the men he was shadowing.

They were near the old building in which Frank had been struck down. The
man in gray seemed to be asking questions. He was surveying the
surroundings as if he had never inspected them before.

For fifteen minutes they stood there talking, and then they went into
the building.

Frank decided to return to his friends. He quickly darted up an incline
toward some cedars, which he saw grew thicker and thicker higher up the
slope. Soon he was hidden by the bushes.

Then Frank went forward more slowly, taking pains to keep in the bushes.
Up above was a ledgy height. He came to it after a time. He found a
position where he could look down into the old quarry. From that
position he could see the overturned car and the granite which lay in
the water at the foot of the bank down which it had jumped. He could
also look far out over the island-dotted bay. He could see small boats
in the distance, he could see white sails, he could see the sunshine
reflected on the blue water. In the midst of this mass of water and
islands lay Devil Island, shrouded by mystery, lonely and desolate,
shunned by man.

Once before he had strongly felt the air of desolation that seemed to
hang about the place, and now the same uncanny sensation was creeping
over him again. Somehow it seemed that he was far from men, far from
life, lost in a lonely waste of water, cast on an uncanny island.

He shook himself, trying to throw off the feeling. He wondered why it
should come upon him at that time, and then he began to remember how he
had first felt it once before when near that very spot.

"The glade--the grave in the woods!"

He muttered the words, realizing that the woods were close at hand. They
lay there dark and gloomy. He must pass through them in order to reach
the _White Wings_, or he must retrace his steps and take the path. To do
the latter would be sur