GALLOPING easily, an early riser may come from Montauk Light over to Third House in time for breakfast. Helga was an early riser and a skilled horsewoman. Flushed like the dawn, she came bursting into the living-room upon Dick Colton who, his mind being absent on another engagement, had forgotten to wind his watch when he went to bed the evening previous, and consequently had risen, on suspicion, one hour too early.

“I haven't had a chance to speak to you since the wreck,” she said, giving him her firm young hand. “Are you any the worse for the rough usage our ocean gave you? And how can I half thank you for your courage?”

“Don't try,” said Dick uncomfortably. “And don't talk to me about courage,” he added. “I wish I could tell you how I choked all up with three cheers when you went in after that fellow.”

“Oh,” said the girl quietly, “we Montauk folk are bred to that sort of thing. Besides, I only paid a debt.”

“A debt? To that Portuguese?”

“No, indeed! I never set eyes on the poor man before. It's just one of our local proverbs. Our fisher people here have a saying that those who are rescued from the sea can never find their heart's happiness until they have evened the tally by saving a life.”

“Then you've had your own shipwreck adventure?” asked Dick.

“Twenty years ago I was washed to shore in just such a storm. Father Johnston was nearly killed, getting me. The only name I could tell them was Helga. They adopted me. Ah, they have been good to me, they and Petit PÈre.”

“Haynes? He's a full-size man!” declared Colton warmly. “'Save Helga!' he called to me, when he saw me floundering in.”

“Yes, I knew he would come after me,” said the girl simply; “but I didn't know you would come after him. So there's the chain,” she added gaily. “I went in to clear off my debt and win my heart's happiness—though I do hope it isn't the Portuguese man. Petit PÈre went in to get me. And you,” she paused and looked him between the eyes, “I think you came after us because you couldn't help it; because that is the sort of man you are. Why,” she cried with a ring of laughter, “you're actually blushing!”

“I'm not used to the praises of full-blown heroines,” retorted Dick. “I wondered what you meant when you said that the children of the sea dream the sea's dreams?”

“As for the dreams,” began Helga. She did not conclude the sentence, but said gravely, “Yes, I'm a true sea-waif.”

“I'd like to adopt you for a sister,” said Dick, smiling, but with such an honesty of admiration that it was the girl's turn to blush.

“Haven't you any of your own?” she asked.

“'I am all the sisters of my father's house,'” he misquoted cheerily.

“And all the brothers too?” she capped the perversion.

“No; I've a brother a year younger than I. There may be in this universe,” he continued reflectively, “people who don't like Everard. If there are, they live in Mars. Everybody on this old earth—and he seems to know pretty much all of 'em—takes to him like a duck to water. He's a wonder, that youth!”

“Everard?” said the girl. There was a quick and subtle change in her tone. “Is Everard Colton your brother? I should never have guessed it. You don't resemble each other in the least.”

“No; he's the ornament of the family. I'm the plodder. And we're the greatest chums ever. Where did you know him?”

“Oh, he used to ride over to Bryn Mawr while I was at college,” she said carelessly, “in an abominable yellow automobile and kill the gardener's chickens on an average of one a trip. The girls called his machine 'The Feathered Juggernaut.'”

“Bryn Mawr?” exclaimed Dick. “What an idiot I am! You're the Helga Johnston that——” He broke off short and regarded his feet with a colour so vividly growing as to suggest that they had suddenly occasioned him an agony of shame.

“Yes, I'm the girl that so alarmed your family lest I should marry your brother,” she said calmly. “You need not have feared. I have not——”

“Don't say 'you'!” interrupted Colton. “Please don't! I had no part in that. I hadn't the faintest idea who the girl was, but when I saw how Ev steadied down and settled to work I knew it was a good influence, and I told the family so. Now that I've met you——” he broke off suddenly. “Poor Ev!” he said in a low tone.

Had his boots been less demanding of attention, Colton would have seen the deep blue of her eyes dimmed to grey by a sudden rush of tears.

“Let us agree to leave your brother out of future conversations, Dr. Colton,” she said decisively. “Good-morning, Petit PÈre,” she greeted Haynes as he came into the room.

“I salute you, Princess,” said Haynes with a low bow. “You beat me in.”

“Have you been out trying to gather more evidence against my poor juggler?”

“If I have, it's been with no success.”

“I wish you failure,” she returned as she left the room.

“Here's something that may interest you,” said Colton to Haynes, and related the episode of the sheep.

The reporter sat down. Colton thought he looked white and worn. Haynes meditated, frowning.

“You say the sheep lay on the hard sand?” he said at length.

“Yes; halfway between the cliff-line and the ocean.”

“That ought to help a lot,” said Haynes decisively. “What marks were around it?”

“Marks?” repeated Colton vacantly.

“Yes; marks, footmarks,” impatiently.

“Why, the fact is, I don't know what I could have been thinking of, but I didn't look.”

“The Lord forgive you!”

“I'll go back now and find them.”

“An elephant's spoor wouldn't have survived half an hour of the rain we had last night,” Haynes said with evident exasperation.

“Miss Ravenden might have noticed something,” suggested Colton hopefully.

On the word Haynes was out in the hallway, up the stairs, and knocking at the girl's door.

“Oh, Miss Dolly!” he called. “I want your help.”

“What can I do for the great Dupin, Jr.?” asked the girl, coming out into the hall.

“Show that you've profited by his learned instructions. Did you see any marks on the sand around the dead sheep?”

“I'm an idiot!” said the girl contritely. “I never thought to look.”

“It's well that your eyes are ornamental; they're not always useful,” said Haynes in accents of raillery which did not conceal his disappointment.

“What have the great Dupin, Jr.'s eyes discovered to-day?” she asked.

“Nothing, You and Colton have provided an unsatisfactory ending to an unsatisfactory day. I've been talking with the survivors of the wreck and couldn't get any light at all. They've all left except 'the Wonderful Whalley.' He's pretty badly bruised, and anyway he won't go before paying his respects to Helga.”

“I should think not, indeed!” said Miss Ravenden. “And to you.”

“It's a curious thing, but he doesn't seem to be inspired by that devotion to me which my highly attractive character would seem to warrant. In fact he looks at me as if he would like to stick me with one of those particularly long, lean and unprepossessing knives which he cherishes so fondly.”

“You don't really think,” said Miss Ravenden in concern, “that there is any——”

“Figure of speech,” interrupted Haynes. “But the man certainly isn't normal. I'll have to trace his movements of yesterday evening. First, however, I'll have a look at that sheep.”

“Surely the Portuguese had nothing to do with that? Why should he kill a harmless animal?”

“There is such a thing as murderous mania,” said Haynes after some hesitation.

Here Professor Ravenden entered. “I had rather a strange experience yesterday evening,” he said.

“Did you hear the sheep too?” asked Colton eagerly.

“Not unless sheep fly, sir. What it was I heard I should be glad to have explained. To liken it to a rasping hinge of great size would hardly give a proper idea of its animate quality; yet I can find no better simile. Were any of the local inhabitants given to nocturnal aeronautics, however, I should unhesitatingly aver that they had passed close over me not half an hour since, and that their machinery needed oiling.”

“I have heard such a noise,” said Haynes quietly. “Did it affect you unpleasantly?”

“No, sir. I cannot say it did. But it roused my interest. I shall make a point of pursuing it further.”

“Miss Johnston is calling us to breakfast,” said Colton.

“I'm just going to take a quick jump to the beach and a glimpse at the sheep,” said Haynes, and a moment later they saw him passing on his horse.

From her place at the head of the breakfast-table Helga Johnston called Dr. Colton to sit next to her, and while talking to him kept one eye on the door. Presently in came Miss Ravenden.

“Come up to this end, Dolly,” called Helga. “I want to introduce to you our new guest. Dr. Colton, Miss Ravenden.”

“Dr. Colton and I already have——” began Dorothy.

“I was fortunate enough to find Miss Ravenden—-” said the confused Dick in the same breath.

“Dr. Colton,” continued Helga, cutting them both off, “is here making a collection of government paper currency. I mention this because Miss Ravenden has a well-known reputation for discerning contributions——”

“Helga,” said Miss Ravenden calmly, “I have a few withering remarks waiting for you. Dr. Colton, you probably didn't know that you were saving a practical joker when you——”

“Earned that twenty-dollar bill,” put in Helga. “But how did you two adjust your financial relations?”

To Dick's relief the outer door opened, admitting Haynes. They turned to him instantly, with questioning faces.

With the change of voice which he kept for Helga alone, he said: “Princess, another of your courtiers is coming over this evening to display his talents.”

“Who, Petit PÈre?”

“Your juggler, 'The Wonderful Whalley.'”

“Did you find out anything about him, Monsieur Dupin?” asked Miss Ravenden.

“Nothing worth while. If he was out last night, no one knows it.”

“And the dead sheep?”

But Haynes only shook his head and attacked his breakfast.

After breakfast the party separated, Haynes riding over to see some of the fishermen, Helga busying herself with household affairs, Miss Ravenden joining her father in a butterfly expedition to the Hither Wood, and Colton going off alone in ill-humour after a signal discomfiture.

He had endeavoured to convince Miss Ravenden that he cherished a passionate fondness for entomology, hoping thereby to gain an invitation to join the party. Unfortunately he undertook the role of a semi-expert, and being by nature the most honest and open of men had fallen into the pit she dug. Upon his profession of faith she at once, so he flattered himself, accepted him as a fellow enthusiast, and began to describe to him a procession of Arachnidae across a swamp.

“In the lead was one great, tiger-striped fellow,” she said. “Are you familiar with the beautiful, big arachnid with the yellow-and-black wings?”

“Yes, indeed!” said Colton eagerly. “I used to see'em flitting around the roses at our summer place.”

“Then,” she said mischievously, “you ought to alter your habits. The arachnids are spiders. Anyone who sees winged spiders is safer fishing than on a butterfly hunt. Good-bye, Dr. Colton.”