Several days after the finding of the treasure-chest experts came down from Philadelphia to appraise its value. It was not easy to decide, immediately, what market price the old jewels, set in quaintly chased gold, would bring. But the least that the coins and stones would be worth was ten thousand dollars! It might be more. An extra thousand dollars or so was hardly worth considering, when ten thousand would make things turn out so beautifully even.

Madge and Captain Jules, Miss Jenny Ann and the other houseboat girls had many discussions about Madge’s discovery of the iron safe.

The little captain was entirely alone on one side of the argument. The others were all against her. Yet she won her point. She continued to insist that her wonderful find was purely an accident. How could she ever have unearthed a box, lost from a sunken ship, that had probably been buried for centuries, if Captain Jules Fontaine had not listened to her pleadings and taken her on the wonderful diving trip with him? Though she had actually struck the first blow on the piece of iron embedded in the bay, she could never have dragged the safe out of the mud, or been able to carry it up to the surface, without Captain Jules’s assistance.

Madge and the old sailor started their discussion alone. The captain had come over to the houseboat, bringing the iron safe with him so that the girls might have a better view of its wonders. He had firmly made up his mind that Madge must be made to understand that the money the treasure would bring was to be all hers. He would not accept one cent of it. Fate had been kinder to him than he had hoped in allowing him to guide Madge to the discovery of her fortune.

“Ten thousand dollars!” exclaimed Madge ecstatically, when the old sailor reported the news to her. “It’s the most wonderful thing I ever heard of in my life. I didn’t dream it was worth so much money. Will you please lend me a piece of paper and a pencil, Captain Jules. I never have been clever at arithmetic.” Madge knitted her brows thoughtfully. “Ten thousand dollars divided by two means five thousand dollars for you and the same sum for us.”

The captain cleared his throat. “What’s the rest of the arithmetic?” he demanded gruffly. “I don’t think much of that first division.”

But Madge was hardly listening. She was biting the end of her pencil. “Six doesn’t go into five thousand just evenly,” she replied thoughtfully, “but with fractions I suppose we can manage. You see that will be eight hundred and thirty-three dollars and something over for Miss Jenny Ann to put in bank to take care of her if she ever gets sick, or has to stop teaching; and the same sum will pay for Phil’s first year at college and for Eleanor’s graduating at Miss Tolliver’s, so uncle won’t have to worry over that any more. Then my little Fairy Godmother can go to some beautiful school in the country, and not be shut up in a horrid home with a capital ‘H,’ which is what Philip Holt has persuaded Mrs. Curtis ought to be done with her. And Lillian can save her money to buy pretty clothes, because she is not as poor as the rest of us and dearly loves nice things, and——” Madge’s speech ended from lack of breath.

The captain rubbed his rough chin reflectively. “Oh! I see,” he nodded, “I am to get half of the money and you are to get a sixth of a half. Is that it?”

Madge lowered her voice to a whisper. “Dear Captain Jules,” she said in a wheedling tone, “you’ll help me, won’t you? The girls and Miss Jenny Ann declare positively that they won’t accept a single dollar of the money. I shall be the most miserable girl in the world if they don’t. Why, we four girls and Miss Jenny Ann have shared everything in common, our misfortunes and our good fortunes, since we started out together. If any one of the other girls had happened to discover the treasure instead of me, she would certainly have divided it with the others. Phil, Lillian, Eleanor and Miss Jenny Ann don’t even dare to deny it. So they simply must give in to me about it.”

“Well,” continued the captain, “I am yet to be told what Madge Morton means to do with the one-sixth of one-half of her wealth when it finally gets round to her.”

The little captain’s eyes shone, though her face sobered. “I am not going to college with Phil, though I hate to be parted from her,” she replied. “Somehow, I think I am not exactly meant for a college girl. I believe I will just advertise in all the papers in the world for my father. Then, if he is alive, I shall surely find him. With whatever money is left I shall go to him. If he is poor, I will manage to take care of him in some way,” ended Madge confidently.

“You will, eh?” returned Captain Jules gruffly. “It seems to me, my girl, that this is a pretty position you have mapped out for me. I am to take half of our find—nice, selfish old codger that I am—while you divide yours with your friends. I am not going to take a cent of that money, so you can just do your sums over again.”

It was at this point that Madge called Miss Jenny Ann and the other houseboat girls into the discussion. It ended with the captain’s agreeing to take one-seventh of the money, if all the others would follow suit.

“Because, if you don’t,” declared Madge in her usual impetuous fashion, “I shall just throw this chest of money and jewelry right overboard and it can go down to the bottom of the bay and stay there, for all I care.”

Captain Jules remained to dinner on the houseboat that evening. After dinner the girls proceeded to adorn themselves with the old sets of jewelry found in the safe. Madge wore the pearls because, she insisted, they were her special jewels, and she had gone down to the bottom of the bay to find them. Phil was more fascinated with some old-fashioned garnets, Lillian with a big, golden topaz pin, and Eleanor with some turquoises that had turned a curious greenish color from old age.

It was well after ten o’clock when the captain announced that he must set out for home. Tom Curtis had been spending the evening on the houseboat with the girls, but he had gone home an hour before to join his mother and her guest, Philip Holt. Before going away the captain concluded that it would be best for him to leave the iron safe of coins and precious stones on the houseboat for the night. It was too late for him to carry it back to “The Anchorage” alone. As no one but Tom knew of its being on the houseboat, the valuables could be in no possible danger. The captain would call some time within the next day or so to take the iron box to a safety deposit vault in the town of Cape May.

Together Miss Jenny Ann and the captain hid the precious chest in a small drawer in the sideboard built into the wall of the little dining room cabin of the houseboat. They locked this drawer carefully and Miss Jenny Ann hid the key under her pillow without speaking of it to any one.

In spite of these precautions no one on the houseboat dreamed of any possible danger to the safety of their newly-found prize. Remember, no one knew of its being on the houseboat save Tom Curtis and Captain Jules. Up to to-night Captain Jules had been guarding the treasure at his house up the bay. No one had been allowed to see it since the famous day of its discovery, except the experts who had come down from Philadelphia to give some idea of the value of Madge’s remarkable find.

Little Tania was in the habit of sleeping in the dining room of the houseboat on a cot which Miss Jenny Ann prepared for her each night. She went to bed earlier than the other girls, so in order not to disturb her, she was stowed away in there instead of occupying one of the berths in the two staterooms. Soon after the captain’s departure Miss Jenny Ann tucked Tania safely in bed. She closed the door of the dining room that led out on the cabin deck and also the door that connected with the stateroom occupied by Madge and Phil. The cabin of the “Merry Maid” was a square divided into four rooms, and Miss Jenny Ann’s bedroom did not open directly into the dining room.

It was a dark night and a strangely still one. The weather was unusually warm and close for Cape May. Over the flat marshes and islands the heat was oppressive. The residents of the summer cottages left their doors and windows open, hoping that a stray breeze might spring up during the night to refresh them. No one seemed to have any fear of burglars.

On the “Merry Maid” the night was so still and cloudy that the girls sat up for an hour after Captain Jules left them, talking over their wonderful good fortune. They were almost asleep before they tumbled into their berths. Once there, they slept soundly all night long. Nothing apparently happened to disturb them, but Madge, who was the lightest sleeper in the party, did half-waken at one time during the night. She thought she heard Tania cry out. It was a peculiar cry and was not repeated. She knew that Tania was given to dreaming. Almost every night the child made some kind of sound in her sleep. Madge sat up in bed and listened, but hearing no further sound, she went fast asleep again without a thought of anxiety.

Miss Jenny Ann was the first to open her eyes the next morning. It must have been as late as seven o’clock, for the sun was shining brilliantly. She slipped on her wrapper and went into the kitchen to start the fire. A few moments later she went into the dining room to call Tania and to help the child to dress. But the dining room door on to the cabin deck was open. Tania’s bedclothes were in a heap on the floor. The child had disappeared.

Miss Jenny Ann was not in the least uneasy or annoyed. She knew that Tania had a way of creeping in Madge’s bed in the early mornings and of snuggling close to her. Miss Jenny Ann tip-toed softly into Madge’s and Phil’s stateroom. There was no dark head with its straight, short black hair and quaint, elfish face pressed close against Madge’s lovely auburn one. Madge was slumbering peacefully. Miss Jenny Ann peered into the upper berth. Phil was alone and had not stirred.

Tania was such a queer, wild little thing! Miss Jenny Ann felt annoyed. Perhaps Tania had awakened and slipped off the boat without telling any of them. She had solemnly promised never to run away again, but she might have broken her word. Miss Jenny Ann explored the houseboat decks. She called the child’s name softly once or twice so as not to disturb the other girls. There was no answer. She went back into the cabin dining room. Neatly folded on the chair, where Miss Jenny Ann herself had placed them the night before, were Tania’s clothes. The child could hardly have run away in her little white nightgown.

When the girls finally wakened Madge was the only one of them who was alarmed at first. She recalled Tania’s strange cry in the night. She wondered if it could have been possible that she had heard a sound before the little girl cried out. But she could not decide. She would not believe, however, that Tania had forgotten her promise and gone away again without permission.

As soon as Eleanor and Lillian were dressed they went ashore and walked up and down near the houseboat, calling aloud for Tania. Phyllis was the most composed of the party. She had two small twin sisters of her own and knew that children were in the habit of creating just such unnecessary excitements. Still, it was better to look for a lost child before she had had time to wander too far away.

“Madge,” suggested Phil quietly, “don’t be so frightened about Tania. I have an idea the child has walked off the houseboat in her sleep. She must have done so, for the dining room door is unlocked from the inside. Our door on to the deck was not locked, but Tania’s was, because Miss Jenny Ann recalls having locked it herself. She came through our room when she joined us outdoors after putting Tania to bed. You and I had better go up at once to find Tom Curtis. Dear old Tom is such a comfort! He will help us search for Tania. Then, if it is necessary, he will ask the Cape May authorities to have the police on the lookout for her. If Tania has wandered off in her sleep, the poor little thing will be terrified when she wakes up and finds herself in a strange place. Surely, some one will take her in and care for her until we find her.”

Madge and Phil were wonderfully glad to find Tom Curtis up and alone on his front veranda. He had just come in from a swim. He seemed so strong, clean, and fine after his morning’s dip in the ocean that his two girl friends were immediately reassured. Tom would tell them just what had better be done to find Tania.

“Mrs. Curtis’s and Philip Holt’s window blinds are still down, thank goodness!” whispered Madge to Phil, “so I suppose they are both asleep. Let us not tell them anything about Tania’s disappearance. They would just put it down to naughtiness in her, and that would make me awfully cross.”

Tom Curtis felt perfectly sure that he would soon run across the lost Tania. So he left word for his mother that he had gone to the houseboat and that she was not to expect him until she saw him again.

For two hours Tom and the houseboat party continued the hunt for the lost child without calling in assistance. Then Madge and Tom went to the town authorities of Cape May. The police investigated the city and the houses in the nearby seaside resort without finding the least clue to Tania. Toward the close of the long day Tom Curtis began to fear that Tania had fallen into the water. Cape May is only a strip of land between the great ocean and the bay, and the land is broken into many small islands nearly surrounded by salt water and marshes.

Tom managed to get the girls safely out of the way; then, with Miss Jenny Ann’s permission, he had the water near the houseboat thoroughly dredged. But Tania’s little body was not found for the second time down in the bottom of the bay. It was not possible to have all the water in the neighborhood dragged in a single day, so Tom said nothing of his fears to his anxious friends.

It was late in the evening. Miss Jenny Ann had prepared dinner for the weary and disheartened girls. She had snowy biscuit, broiled ham, roasted potatoes, milk, and honey, the very things her charges usually loved. Tom Curtis felt impelled to go back home. All that day he had seen nothing of his mother or of their visitor, Philip Holt, and Tom was afraid they would begin to wonder what had become of him.

Madge caught Tom by the sleeve and looked at him with beseeching eyes. “Please don’t go, Tom,” she begged, with a catch in her voice, “I am sure your mother won’t mind. She has Mr. Holt with her, and I can’t bear to see you go.”

Tom and Madge were near the gangplank of the houseboat and Tom was trying to make up his mind what he should do, when he and Madge caught sight of a gray-clad figure walking toward them through the twilight mists.

“It’s Mother,” explained Tom in a relieved tone. “Now I can make it all right with her.”

“And that horrid Philip Holt isn’t along,” declared Madge delightedly, “so I can tell her about poor little Tania.”

Mrs. Curtis caught Madge, who had run out to meet her, by the hand. “My dear child, what is the matter with you?” the older woman asked immediately. “Even in this half-light I can see that your face is pale as death and you look utterly worn out. If one of you is ill, why have you not sent for me?”

When Madge faltered out her story of the lost Tania Mrs. Curtis hugged her to her in the old sympathetic way that the little captain knew and loved.

“I am so sorry, dear,” soothed Mrs. Curtis, “but I am sure than Tom and Philip Holt will find her. I suppose that is why they have both been away all day.”

“Philip Holt!” exclaimed Tom in surprise. “He hasn’t been with us. I thought he was at home with you.”

Mrs. Curtis shook her head indifferently. “No; he hasn’t been at the cottage all day. Have any of you thought to send word to Captain Jules to ask him about Tania? It may be that the child is with him. In any event, I know Captain Jules would give us good advice.”

“Bully for you, Mother!” cried Tom, glad to catch a straw as he saw the shadow on Madge’s face lighten. “As soon as I have had a bite of supper with the girls I’ll get hold of a boat and go after the captain.”

Tom did not have to make his journey up the bay to “The Anchorage” that night. While he and his mother were at supper with the girls they heard the sound of Captain Jules’s voice calling to them over the water. He had to come ashore lower down the bay, where the water was deeper than it was near the houseboat, but he always hallooed as he approached.

“O Jenny Ann!” faltered Madge, trembling like a leaf, “it is our captain. Perhaps he has brought Tania back with him. I—I—hope nothing dreadful has happened to her.”

Without a word Tom fled off the houseboat. A moment later he espied Captain Jules coming toward him, alone!

“Halloo, son!” called out Captain Jules cheerfully. “Glad to know that you are down here with the girls. Funny thing, but I’ve had these girls on my mind all day. It seemed to me that they needed me, and I couldn’t go to bed without finding out that everything was well with them. What’s wrong?” Captain Jules had caught a fleeting glimpse of Tom’s harassed face. “Is it—is it Madge?” he asked anxiously. “Is anything the matter with my girl?”

Tom shook his head reassuringly. It took very few words to make the captain understand that the trouble was over Tania and not Madge.

When, a moment later, the captain went aboard the “Merry Maid” he was able to smile bravely at the discouraged women.

“Here, here!” he cried gruffly, while Madge clung to one of his horny hands for support and Eleanor to the other, “what is all this nonsense I hear? Tania is not really lost, of course. I’ll bet you we find the little witch in no time. She has just gone off somewhere in these New Jersey woods to join the fairies she talks so much about. They are sure to take good care of her. We can’t do much more looking for her to-night, but I’ll find her first thing in the morning.”

Both Captain Jules and Mrs. Curtis insisted that the girls and Miss Jenny Ann go early to bed. Just as Captain Jules was saying good night it occurred to Miss Jenny Ann that she would rather turn over to the old sailor the box of coins and jewelry. While Tania was lost there would be so many persons in and out of the houseboat that Miss Jenny Ann feared something might happen to the valuables.

She went to the drawer in the sideboard in the saloon cabin without thinking of the key under her pillow, and took hold of the knob. To her surprise the drawer opened readily. There was no iron safe inside it. Miss Jenny Ann ran to her bed and felt under her pillow. The key was still there as though it had never been disturbed.

Captain Jules and Tom decided that the simple lock to the houseboat sideboard had been easily broken open. When, or how, or by whom, nobody knew, but it was certain that the jewels and money were gone. Fortune, the fickle jade, who had brought the houseboat girls such good luck only a short time before, had now cruelly stolen it away from them.