No word came from the Manor the next day, only a big bunch of fragrant lilies for Win and some jelly of which Paget alone knew the secret recipe. Early Tuesday morning Max's prophesied storm arrived in earnest and the young people at Rose Villa saw the Granville boat leave her pier amid sheets of driving rain. Her decks looked dreary and deserted, for all the passengers were inside.

"I suppose Mr. Max is on board for he was obliged to go," observed Frances, as the steamer disappeared in low-hanging banks of fog drifting continually nearer shore.

"Yes," agreed Win, who was dressed and about, though still looking ill. "There will be some word when he gets back to Paris. It stormed so yesterday that he probably couldn't go into the cave as he planned."

"Life seems very tame after all the interesting things that happened last week," sighed Frances, gathering her French grammar and other school books. "Rain or no rain, there will be school, and English rain seems somehow wetter than American. You'd better eat that jelly, Win. According to Nurse, it is the elixir of life and warranted to cure every ill known to man."

Win smiled as he watched his sister and Edith down the steps, and waved a listless hand as they turned inquiring faces under bobbing umbrellas at the end of the terrace. He looked enviously after Roger, a tall slim clothespin in black rubber coat and boots, sou'wester pulled firmly over his head, tramping sturdily toward the beach, evidently on some definite errand. Win would have liked mightily to be swinging along with him through the storm, but the fun of facing a tempest was not for Win.

For a few moments he stood idly by the window, wondering whether Connie knew what Max had possibly discovered in his inspection of cave and vaults. Then he turned with a sigh, reminding himself that with the weather what it was, and in this land of few telephones, there was no chance of hearing anything from the Manor.

Gradually the stormy morning passed, somewhat dully for Win, who still felt unfit to study or even to occupy himself with a book, and lay upon the couch while his mother read aloud.

Frances returned from school, ravenously hungry and quite rosy with the rain that had beaten in her face.

"Mother, I am nearly starved!" she announced.

"Why, it is time for luncheon," said Mrs. Thayne, awakening to a realization of that fact. "But where is Roger? He can't have taken the whole morning just to deliver that message for Estelle."

"He could easily, Mother," said Win. "Why, if I had a chance to get out in this storm, I feel sure it would take me forever to do the simplest errand. He'll come home when he's hungry."

The gong for luncheon sounded and the three sat down to Annette's delicious scallops, daintily creamed in their own big shells, her French bread and perfect chocolate. Still Roger did not come.

Nurse took the plates, and brought dessert; fruit, clotted cream with plum jam, and a special glass of egg-nog for Win.

"Shall we put Mr. Roger's lunch to the fire?" she asked of Mrs. Thayne.

"I don't see why he doesn't come. He can't have gone to the Manor and if he had, they would have sent word if he were staying. No, you needn't keep it warm, Nurse. Unless he has some very good excuse when he comes, he may lunch upon bread and milk. It's really very naughty of him to go off like this when he had lessons to learn."

"It's queer where he can be," observed Fran. "He started on his errand just after Edith and I came out and saw Annette buying scallops of the fish-woman. He's crazy about them you know, and he asked particularly if they were for luncheon, and told her to be sure to get plenty."

"Oh, I don't suppose anything has happened," said Mrs. Thayne quietly, for she did not wish Win to worry.

When Roger was still missing half an hour later, Mrs. Thayne sought
Estelle.

"Whatever can have happened?" said Estelle helplessly. "I can't think.
Did he have any money?"

"Why, perhaps a few pence, not much anyway," replied Mrs. Thayne. "You think he went into St. Helier's and had to walk back? That's possible. Fran, it's not storming so hard now. Put on your rain-coat and run out to the end of the terrace. Perhaps with the field-glasses you can make out whether he is coming down the beach or is anywhere in sight."

Frances returned with the report that there was practically no beach, owing to the high tide, and no foot-farers on the narrow strip that was visible in the fog.

Neither Estelle nor Mrs. Thayne knew what was best to do. Estelle suggested the police and then the rector, but neither seemed to Mrs. Thayne likely to offer a solution.

"We will wait a while," she said with an anxious glance at the clock just striking two. "Don't do or say anything to let Win think I am worried, Fran. Let me take your coat. I'll go down to the beach myself. I really think that Roger should be punished for causing us such anxiety."

Had his mother only known, Roger was already enduring considerable self-inflicted penance for getting into a predicament which made it impossible for him to return.

Delivering Estelle's message at a cottage by the shore had taken but a few moments and with most of the morning before him, Roger set out along the beach, glorying in the force of wind and rain. True, there were lessons to be prepared for Bill Fish, who would come cheerfully swimming in at the appointed hour, but there was surely time for a stroll toward Noirmont Point.

The tide was far out and wet hard sand stretched in every direction, very pleasing to stamp over, and retaining little trace of any footprint. Only gray gulls and drifting fog banks distinguished the immediate surroundings.

As Roger tramped on, he noticed that the fog grew steadily thicker and that his path included occasional seaweed-covered rocks, but not until a black mass loomed up before him, did he realize that he had left the true beach and was walking straight out to sea. The bulk he had encountered was not the martello tower on Noirmont Point but the old castle of St. Aubin's, at high tide an island in the bay.

No thought of any danger in his position struck Roger. He had always intended to investigate that island but somehow had never yet done so. Here it lay before him.

Climbing the rocks upon which the castle stands, he made a careful survey of its outside and finally gained access to the interior, much disappointed to find nothing at all remarkable, though St. Aubin's castle is not wholly a ruin and was once rented and occupied for a season by an eccentric Englishman.

Nothing was now visible save swirling fog and for the first time, Roger realized what that fog meant. He hastily made his way to the little beach, where the tide, still out, would permit him to cross to the mainland. To start in the right direction was simple enough, for he very well knew which side of the castle faced the shore, but he had taken scarcely twenty steps down the sand when he saw that he had no certainty of keeping his bearings once the island was left behind.

Roger was only twelve, but he was possessed of common-sense and self-reliance. Though the youngest of the family he had been so thoroughly impressed with the necessity of considering "safety first" in regard to Win, that in an emergency of any kind he was usually level-headed. He stopped where he was, searching his pockets for the compass Captain Thayne had given to each of his three children.

Roger's pockets yielded a strange and varied assortment of objects, presumably of value, but no compass. He looked irresolutely behind where the castle was just visible as a darker spot in the fog. Nothing at all could be distinguished ahead.

From the lighthouse on the point came the tolling of a bell, but its warning tones were so scattered and disguised by the fog, that its sound was of no use as a guide.

For several moments Roger stood where he was. The distance to shore was not great if he was only certain of going straight ahead. To swerve from that direction meant wandering out to meet the cruel Jersey tide, presently coming in like a hunter on its prey. To remain where he was meant anxious hours for his mother and for Win, about whom Roger was already so much concerned.

Having weighed the alternatives, he took five steps forward and stood absolutely surrounded by the whirling mist. A sort of horror came over him, a keen realization of his helplessness before one of the great elemental forces of nature. The risk was too great! There was a chance that he might keep in the right direction with nothing to guide him, but it was only a chance. Worried as his mother would doubtless be, better that she endure a few hours of anxiety than lasting grief.

Turning squarely about, Roger retraced his footsteps, already faint, to the castle, where he perched forlornly on a high rock. A little later, he heard for he could not see, the low hiss and gurgle of the coming tide. Roger was a big, strong, brave boy, but at the sound, he could not suppress a few tears, and they were not wholly for his own plight.

Mrs. Thayne returned from her fruitless expedition to the beach, looking still more distressed.

"I can't imagine where Roger is," she said anxiously to Frances. "Of course, there may be some good excuse for this performance, but I don't see what it can be. He knows that he is not to go into town without permission and it seems as though he would have come home for luncheon unless he was in St. Helier's. If he really has been disobedient and played truant again into the bargain, I shall ask Mr. Fisher to punish him."

"Oh, Mother," said Frances, "Roger wouldn't deliberately frighten us, especially when he's been so upset over Win."

"But where is he?" said Mrs. Thayne again. "Thank goodness! Here's
Mr. Fisher."

She hurried down to intercept the tutor at the door. Lingering at the head of the stair, Frances heard her name called from Win's room.

"Is Mother dreadfully troubled?" he asked as she entered. "I think
Roger went back to the cave and has been shut in."

"Oh, I hope not," said Frances. "Mother's annoyed but it seems to me he must be all right. When he gets ready he will turn up with some wonderful tale of adventure."

"I suspect he's in some scrape," said Win. "Might not be such a bad idea to appeal to the police after all. I only wish I wasn't such a helpless stick," he added rather bitterly.

"Mr. Fisher has gone down to the beach," reported Frances from the window. "I'm glad he's come, for Mother will feel better to have him to consult."

Both were silent for a moment, thinking of Roger, blunt, loyal, impulsive Roger, hoping that nothing serious had befallen him.

Presently Mrs. Thayne came, her face expressing a calm she did not feel. "Mr. Fisher thinks there is no cause for us to worry," she remarked placidly. "He is going to take what he calls a 'turn about the town.' Frances, suppose you go on reading to Win while I sew a little."

Frances took the book Win held out to her, and Mrs. Thayne's fingers twitched the needle through her embroidery, both ears alert for sound of returning steps. The clock struck three and then four. Nothing happened. Roger did not come and Mr. Fisher did not reappear.

Over on St. Aubin's tiny island, Roger watched the water creep steadily up the rocks, up and up until it broke almost at the foundations of the castle. Cruel, cold, and gray it looked and hungry and chilly was the boy who watched. Once a gull flew so close that he could almost touch it as it vanished like a ghost into the fog.

At intervals Roger inspected his watch, counting the moments till the tide should cease to make. At last the water stopped climbing the rocks, remained stationary, fell an inch. The next wave broke still farther below.

But unless the fog should lift, ebb tide would only duplicate Roger's predicament of the morning. Toward four he saw that the mist was gradually growing lighter; saw water visible fifty feet from the island. Presently a breeze sprang into being, the most welcome wind Roger had ever known. Before it the fog thinned, grew filmy, dispersed in shreds of trailing vapor. Noirmont Point and St. Aubin's village came gradually into distinct view, and with them a man walking along the sand.

Water ten feet deep and many wide still barred Roger from the shore and he could not make himself heard above the slow heave of the rollers lazily breaking on the beach. Was there no way to attract the saunterer's attention?

Finding a long branch, relic of some storm-wrecked tree, Roger tied his handkerchief to it and waved vigorously. After a time, the man on the beach noticed the flag and stood looking toward it.

A bright idea struck Roger. At home he had belonged to a troop of boy scouts and knew the signals. He would experiment on this stranger.

Just by chance, Mr. Fisher at one time had been a scout-master and instantly realized that Roger, marooned on St. Aubin's island, was trying to send a message. Hastily improvising a flag, he responded.

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Thayne, still nervously sewing, heard Mr. Fisher run up the steps and Estelle hurry to the door. A few brief seconds sufficed to give the explanation Roger had so painstakingly signaled.

"I didn't stop to rescue him, Mrs. Thayne," explained Mr. Fisher, "because his one thought was for you and Win, not to let you worry a moment longer."

"Can't you get a boat and row out for him?" asked Estelle, seeing that Mrs. Thayne was unable to speak. "Poor dear boy, he must be cold and famished."

"I'm off to Noirmont Point," replied Mr. Fisher briefly. "It shouldn't take long to pull over and back, provided that I pick up a boat quickly."

In spite of the tutor's best efforts, darkness had fallen before the marooned prisoner was returned to his anxious family, who sat around to see him eat everything pressed upon him. Roger was pale and very subdued. Strangest of all, he had come up Noirmont Terrace pressed close to the side of the obnoxious Bill Fish and not in the least resenting the hand that rested on his shoulder.

Having consumed all the food in sight, he yielded without protest to his mother's desire that he should go to bed in order to ward off possible chill. When Mr. Fisher, heartily thanked, had taken his departure, Mrs. Thayne started for Roger's room. On its threshold she stopped for the boys were talking.

"I hated it like time out there," said Roger, now reposing luxuriously in bed. "But I hated worse to have you and Mother worried. I didn't purposely go over to the island, Win."

"I know you didn't," said his brother. "I was sure that something you couldn't help had happened."

"It did," sighed Roger. "I guess I'll never again do anything that worries Mother, now I know how it feels to worry over somebody myself. And I say, Win, Bill Fish is all right! To think of his knowing the scout signals! And he pulled out for me himself in a heavy old dory that weighed a ton. Why, Bill Fish isn't so bad!"

"And have you just found that out?" asked Win laughing. "I've known it all the time."