ROUND the big fireplace with its decorations of blue-and-white Colonial china, which many a guest by vast but vain inducements had tried to buy from the little hostelry, sat Dick Colton, Haynes and old Johnston. The clock had struck nine some minutes earlier.

“Your brother couldn't have caught the afternoon train,” remarked Haynes. “Was he to ride over?”

“Yes, I arranged for a saddle-horse to meet him at Amagansett,” answered Colton.

“Reckon the Professor and Miss Dolly stopped at the fishermen's for dinner,” opined the old man, as a soft and sudden breeze stirred the curtains. “If they ain't in pretty quick they'll get wet. There's somebody now!”

A tramp of feet clumped on the porch, the door was thrown open and a young man limped in. He was tall, almost as tall as Dick Colton, but much slenderer, and extremely dark. Despite his unsteady gait, he bore himself with an inimitably buoyant and jocund carriage. His well-made riding-suit was muddied and torn, his head was bare, and from a long but shallow cut on his forehead blood had trickled down one side of his handsome face, giving him an appearance of almost theatrical rakishness.

“Hello, Dick, old man!” he cried. “How goes the quest for slumber?”

“Good Lord, Ev!” responded Dick Colton, hurrying to meet him. “What's the matter with you? Are you hurt?”

Keenly watching the greeting, Haynes noted the evident and open affection between the two brothers.

“Just a twisted knee,” said the younger. “Thrown, Dick—thrown like a riding-school novice. I'd hate to have it get back to the troop.”

“It must have been something extraordinary to get you out of the saddle,” said Dick, for Everard Colton was one of the best of the younger polo men.

“It was extraordinary enough, all right,” acquiesced the younger man, “Let me clean up and I'll tell you about it.”

“Wait a moment,” said Dick Colton, and introduced his brother to the other men. “Several queer things have been happening here lately,” he continued. “We're all interested in them, particularly Mr. Haynes. Tell us now—unless you're in pain,” added Dick anxiously. “Let's look at your knee.”

“Oh, that's nothing. I'm not suffering any except in my temper. Things I don't understand disturb my judicial poise.”

“Did your horse roll into one of the gullies?” asked Haynes. “There are some nasty slides if you get off the road.”

“No, my horse didn't; but I did,” replied the other. “The Professor of Prevarication who keeps the Amagansett livery stable told me that the mare knew the road. If she did know it, she carefully concealed her knowledge, for as soon as the pitch darkness fell (by the way, I don't remember a blacker night) she began to stroll across the verdant meads like a man chewing a straw and thinking of his troubles. Except for the sound of the surf, I had no way to steer her, so I just said to her: 'If you lug me back to Amagansett, I'll break every rib in your umbrella,' and let her amble. About half an hour ago I sighted your light here. Without any cause that I could make out, my lady friend began to toss her head upward and sniff the air and tremble.”

“You think the horse heard something?” asked Haynes.

“If I'd been in a big game country I should have said she scented something. It was a dead calm, and I could have heard any noise, I think. Well, Jezebel began to buck-jump, and I was rather enjoying myself when suddenly she did a thing that was new to me in the equine line. Her legs just seemed to give way from under her, and she slumped so completely that I was flipped off sidewise. As I got to my feet I felt a little gust of air that brought a curious odour very plainly to me.”

“That's a new development,” said Haynes quietly. “What was it like?”

“Did you ever smell a copperhead snake?”

“Often. Like ripe cucumbers.”

“Yes. Well, this was something on that order, only much stronger and pretty sickening. Are there any copperheads in Montauk?”

“No, nor ever was,” said Johnston positively. “Anyway, I think it was a snake. The mare thought it was something uncanny. She went crazy, and began to rave and tear like a bucking automobile. Just as I thought I was getting her calmed I stepped on a round stone, that slid me down into a gully on one side of my face. Again I felt that strange rush of foul air. Jezebel gave a yell and broke away, and I was adrift on the broad prairies. There's one thing I noticed—oh, well, I suppose I imagined it.”

“No. Go on. Tell us what it was.”

“Well, the draft of wind seemed to come from opposite directions. It seemed as if something had passed and repassed above me.”

Dick Colton turned to Haynes. “'The Wonderful Whalley' is somewhere on the knolls,” he said.

“Yes; but he isn't flying around in the air on a broomstick.”

“One could almost believe he had other attributes of the vampire besides the blood-thirst,” replied Colton. “Ev, Mr. Johnston will show you your room. Come down when you're ready. I've got something to look after.”

“You're worried about Miss—about the Ravendens,” said Haynes to Dick as the junior Colton left the room. “Wait a moment, till I get lanterns. I'm going with you.”

“Thank you,” said Dick quietly. “I thought you would. Ev won't like it much when he finds there's something afoot and he has been left out.”

“He's had his share. I've an idea that your brother has been near to death to-night.”

“The more reason for haste, then.”

“I'll strike off inland. You take the sea side,” said Haynes, as the two lighted lanterns and passed out into the dead blackness. “And, by the way,” he added, “I wouldn't make my light any more conspicuous than necessary.”

“All right,” said Dick. “I've no particular desire to attract Whalley's attention.”

Within ten minutes the young doctor heard voices, and called. Professor Ravenden's dry accents answered him. With a hail to Haynes, Colton ran forward. He almost plunged into Dolly Ravenden's horse, which reared and snorted.

“What is it?” cried the girl. “Oh, it's Dr. Colton. Are you hunting the night-flying arachnida?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Has anything happened?” asked the girl quickly, sobered by his tone. “Helga? Mr. Haynes?”

“No, all are safe.” He laid his hand on the neck of her mount. “But you must come home at once. There is danger abroad.”

“Why, Dr. Colton, you're trembling! I wouldn't have believed you knew what it was to be afraid.”

“You don't know what it is to care——” he cut off the words with something like a sob. “Thank God, we found you!”

Then the girl had cause to bless the darkness, for from her heart there surged a flood to her face, and with it woman's first doubt and fear and glory. “Perhaps I do know,” she thought. For an instant, she closed her eyes and saw him as he had come draggled and staggering from the sea. She opened them upon his stalwart figure and the clean-cut, manly face, still drawn with anxiety, clear in the light of the lantern.

“It was good of you to brave the danger,” she said sweetly. “I have had a premonition of some tragedy overhanging, since we found the sheep.”

“Well, Professor! Hello, Miss Dolly!” called Haynes, as he swung up on a trot. “Are you all right? Better hurry in. There's a storm coming.”

“It is something besides a storm that brought you gentlemen out on a search for us,” said Professor Ravenden shrewdly. “While properly appreciative, I should be glad to have an explanation.” The explanation came swiftly, from the direction of the sea. It was a long-drawn, high-pitched scream. There was in it a cadence of mortal terror; the last agony rang shrill and unmistakable from its quivering echoes. Miss Ravenden's horse bounded in the air; but Colton's weight on the bridle brought it down shaking.

“That was a horse,” said the girl tremulously. “Poor thing!”

“In dire extremity, if I mistake not,” added the professor. “I am beginning to feel an interest which I trust is not unscientific in this succession of phenomena.”

“I think,” said Haynes quickly, “that the house is the place for us just now. That's the end of your brother's horse,” he added to Colton in a low tone.

When Dick Colton lifted the girl from her saddle at the front porch he said to her: “Miss Ravenden, may I ask you to promise me something?”

“I don't know,” said the girl, in sudden apprehension. “What is it?”

“That you will not go out alone on the grassland again, nor go out even with your father after dusk, until Mr. Haynes or I tell you it is safe?”

“I promise. But won't you tell me what you have found out?”

“Something unhorsed my brother as he came across the point in the darkness, and that was his mare's death-cry you heard from the shore.”

When they were inside, Haynes suggested that they hold a brief consultation, at which all should be present. Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, Helga and Everard Colton were sent for. In the stress of the moment Haynes had forgotten that Helga had not been warned of the younger Colton's coming. Everard came into the room first, and provided his brother with a surprise, by rushing at Miss Ravenden as if bent on devouring her.

“Little Dot, the butterfly's Nemesis!” he cried. “When did you get here, and how? And Professor too! Well, this is a lark!” To which greeting the Ravendens responded with equal warmth.

“Dick, you scoundrel, why didn't you tell me they were here?” cried Everard.

“I didn't know you knew them,” returned the bewildered Dick.

“Know them? Why, I've spent a week of my latest vacation on their house-boat. The Lepidoptero of half the Southern States shriek aloud when they see Miss Ravenden and me approaching. Besides, I'm useful, am I not, Dolly?”

“Not in terms that could be reduced to an estimate,” said that young woman.

“Ungrateful maiden! Don't I shoo off your swarming adorers, comprising all the polyglot of Washington and most of the blue blood of Philadelphia? I'm the only man in America who can be with Miss Dorothy Ravenden for three consecutive days without falling desperately in love with her. I escape only because I know it's hopeless.”

“Oh, is that it?” said Dolly demurely. “I had heard there was a more tangible reason for my bereavement. Vardy, you're looking serious in spite of all your nonsense. I believe, upon my soul, the stories are true.”

“Oh, Dick,” said Everard hastily, “I nearly forgot about that package of books. I dropped'em outside. Here they are and they'll cost you just eight dollars and eighty cents and the price of a drink for my trouble in bringing them. Don't know what they are, because I turned over your telegram to Towney; but by their weight they're worth the money. Let's have a look at them.”

Before Dick could protest he had opened the package.

“'Summer reading for a young physician,'” he began, looking at the titles. “What have we here? Harris' 'Insects Injurious to Vegetation 'The Butterfly Book,' by Holland; 'Special Report on the Spiders of Long Island'; 'North American'—well, by my proud ancestral halls!”

“Give me those books, Ev!” said Dick sharply. “Little Everard, the Boy Wonder, has put a dainty foot in it again!” He laughed banteringly, looking from Dorothy Ravenden to Dick and back again. “Dick, too? Oh, Dolly, couldn't you leave the family alone for my sake? Case of 'Love me, love my bugs'!”

But even the much-allowanced Everard had gone too far. Dolly Ravenden turned upon him with an expression which boded ill for the venturesome young man, when a volume of song from the hallway, that seemed, controlled and effortless as it was, to fill full and permeate every farthest nook and corner of the house, stopped her. It was Helga singing a quaint and stirring old ballad.

“Heavens!” exclaimed Dick Colton. “What a voice! Who is it?”

“Haven't you heard Helga sing?” said Dolly Ravenden, in surprise. “Isn't it superb!”

Everard had risen and was looking hungrily toward the door. Dolly looked keenly at him, and saw in his face a look that she had seen in many a man's eyes, but that no woman but one had ever before seen in Everard Colton's.

“It is true,” she said to herself. The voice went on:

The soft, deep, triumphant final note died away. There was a moment's silence.

“Dick, you ought to have told me,” said Everard, unsteadily.

But Dick paid no heed. He was looking at Haynes, upon whose cold and rather hard-lined face was such an expression of loving pride and yearning, as utterly transfigured it.

“I ought to be kicked for bringing Everard down here,” thought the gentle-hearted young doctor.

The door opened and Helga entered. As if drawn magnetically, her gaze went straight to Everard Colton. She stopped short.

“Helga!” said he.

The girl caught her breath sharply. Her hand fluttered toward her breast, and fell again. Her colour faded; but instantly she was mistress of herself.

“Good-evening, Mr. Colton,” she said quietly, and gave him her hand as she came forward. “Did you come in this evening? It always is wiser to write ahead for rooms.”

“I don't understand,” he stammered. “Are you—do you live here?”

“This is my father's hotel,” she explained. “Father, this is Mr. Everard Colton. Is there a room for him?”

“I've found my room,” said Everard hoarsely, and there followed a silence which Miss Ravenden maliciously enjoyed, her eyes sparkling at her erstwhile tormentor's discomfiture.

Haynes broke the silence. “This is all very pleasant,” he said sharply and with an effort, “but it isn't business. And we have business of a rather serious nature on hand. There is just this to say: Somewhere on the point is this juggler. He is armed, and there is at least a strong suspicion that he is murderous. The death of the sailor, the killing of the sheep, and Mr. Colton's adventure show plainly enough that there is peril abroad. It may or may not have to do with the juggler. But until the man is captured, I think the ladies should not leave the house alone; and none of us should go far alone or unarmed. Is that agreed?”

“I agree for myself and my daughter to your very well-judged suggestion,” said Professor Ravenden, “and I have in my room an extra revolver which I will gladly lend to anyone.”

The others also assented to the plan, and at Haynes' suggestion the weapon went to Helga's adopted father. Dick Colton had a navy revolver, Everard had his cavalry arm, and Haynes had written for a pistol.

“Would it not be well,” suggested the professor, “to notify the authorities?”

“The average town constable is appointed to keep him out of the imbecile asylum,” said Haynes. “I believe we can organise a vigilance committee right here and see it through. Besides,” he added with a smile, “I want the story exclusively for my paper.”