As the returning search party came within sight of the Hathaway home, they saw that it was brilliantly lighted and the fat, comfortable shadow of Aunt Sally could be seen waddling back and forth in front of the kitchen window.

“Hurrah!” shouted Josie. “Aunt Sally sure is on the job and we won’t go hungry!”

They knew her surmise to be correct the minute they opened the door, for the smell of frying chicken and delicious coffee was wafted to their nostrils.

To Danny, who had eaten nothing all that day, and who had hastily consumed only a few hard, dry sandwiches the day before, the odor was like a breath of heaven. Hurrying back to his old tower room, he flung off the mud-stained livery with loathing, and gloried in a piping hot tub. Then he quickly slipped into a neat, well-tailored suit of quiet brown. It was the first time Mary Louise would see him really dressed and, boyishly, we wanted very much to have her satisfied.

When he entered the dining room a few minutes later, Mary Louise was also entering from the hall, and from the soft blush with which she greeted him one would surmise that Mary Louise was satisfied. As for herself, Mary Louise had never looked so lovely. Her soft, dark curls, still a bit damp from the rain, had been caught at the top of her head and held there by a narrow band of pink. It gave her quite the look of a little woman, or perhaps it was the startled, wistful and yet happy expression of her lovely eyes, under which lay violet shadows, that caused the old Colonel to realize with a start that Mary Louise had suddenly grown up. She had slipped on a quite grown-up garment, a soft and clinging tea gown of shell pink chiffon, and she entered the room a little wearily and very shyly.

It seemed to the surprised Danny that there had never been any one so lovely in the whole wide world before.

“Bless ma soul,” Aunt Sally was fussing as she placed one wonderful dish after another upon the table in true Southern style. “Bless ma soul, Aunt Sally knowed as when dey brung the little missy home dead or alive she would be hungry.”

The platter of chicken, fried to a perfect brownness, was placed before the Colonel, and the voice of Aunt Sally called through the butler’s pantry, “Eben, you lazy ole niggah, bring in de candied yams.”

Uncle Eben did so, just as Josie came bouncing down the stairs fastening the final hook to the crumpled linen dress as she came. “Oh, dear Aunt Sally, how perfectly delicious everything does look, and I never, never before ate dinner at two o’clock in the morning.”

Just then the honk of an auto was heard outside. This time both Mary Louise and Danny were aware of the disturbance, so evidently their sense of hearing was not permanently impaired. In a moment the door opened and two tired, disgusted and discouraged men entered.

But the insidious aroma of that coffee of Aunt Sally’s seeped even through their depression, and with a “God bless Aunt Sally,” Lonsdale and Crocker both decided that life was probably worth living after all.

It was in fact a very happy party which gathered around the table at the places Mary Louise had assigned to them, with a new little touch of dignity that became her well.

Directly after dinner Aunt Sally insisted on taking Mary Louise off to rest, and with a sleepy little “good-night” to them all, Mary Louise was led away and tucked in bed as tenderly as when she was a little child.

With her departure the room seemed very queer and empty, and Danny suddenly realized how tired he was himself. So with a good-night to the Colonel he was off to his tower room and to the soundest of deep slumbers.

Not so with Josie O’Gorman. She was on a job and until her work was finished she would need no rest. As Crocker was pulling on his gloves preparatory to leaving she faced him squarely.

“Is there one bit of use for either you or me working on this case any longer?” she inquired. “If there is, I’m willing to stay and help, but if there isn’t, I guess there’re more important things for both of us in Washington.”

“You’re right, you are,” agreed Crocker most definitely. “I hate like the devil to give up the case but the man could hide here in the dunes indefinitely, and I haven’t time to wait.” “Of course,” added Josie, “the auto theft solved itself; they didn’t really need me.”

“I’m not so sure, you gave them confidence and courage when they needed it,” said Crocker, kindly, and reaching out a huge hand in friendly farewell, “you’re a game youngster and I hope I run across you often.” And Crocker strode down the front stairs to the waiting Lonsdale.

Josie turned back into the hall, glancing at Danny’s cap that had been left on the hall tree, and at the little parasol of Mary Louise’s leaning near it. A whimsical smile flashed over her face.

“Well,” she soliloquized, “I’ve not made very much out of this case, but at least I’ve detected one thing—and that is the way the wind blows in that quarter.”

With an all-inclusive glance at the parasol and cap she fled up the stairs.