On the night of the twenty-seventh, Leslie Secrest and Sarita Moore were sitting in the Sea Crest to talk. Gently the boat rocked a little in the lapping water of their little cove. Beth and Dalton were above in the Eyrie, where they had a spyglass, not one belonging to Peggy, but one which Dalton had procured. “It would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it,” he asked, “to hunt down Peggy’s step-father with a glass that he will probably pay for?”

Idly Leslie dipped her hand in the water. “Let’s go over after Peggy,” Sarita suggested. “Lots of boats are out yet, and the sunset isn’t over. See what entrancing shades there are. Beth is probably copying those over there in the east. Too bad the sun itself isn’t in that direction!”

Without a word, Leslie sprang into action. “I see a few twinkles of stars coming out, but it isn’t too late,” she said. They were soon out upon the bay, Sarita waving a farewell to Beth, who had walked out upon the rocks. Before they had gone far toward the channel, by which they would reach Peggy’s, to their surprise, the Ives yacht gave forth a deep and sonorous sound.

“Listen to Peggy’s yacht tooting!” cried Sarita. “Look out, Les. Let’s keep out of the way.”

The yacht, indeed, was moving out; but as there was but one straight course for it out of the bay, Leslie was not concerned. She drove the Sea Crest in another direction, and circled around, as they often did. To their surprise again, there was Peggy herself, waving from the deck.

Leslie chose to follow in the wake of the yacht, which drew farther and farther away from them, and finally turned north along the coast, disappearing from view. It had not been Leslie’s intention, to be sure, to go out into the open sea very far, but she saw Mr. Tudor and his friend in another launch no bigger than the Sea Crest and she found the sea very little rougher than the bay. “It will be fairly light for more than an hour, Sarita, let’s stay out a while.”

Sarita was willing, and they turned the little Sea Crest toward the open sea and sped on. Suddenly, upon the horizon, a lovely sight greeted their eyes. There hung a large schooner as if suspended from the clouds. It was in full sail, the last pink and lavender of the sunset imparting a tinge of color to the swelling sails.

“How lovely!” exclaimed Leslie. “Is it a fishing schooner, or the schooner, I wonder?”

“It might be either, or both,” laughed Sarita. “How odd! It’s simply fading from view! See, it’s turned, too.”

The girls watched the schooner till they could see it no more. Then Leslie turned the launch and ran straight for the bay. “Do you suppose that it is the schooner and that the yacht has gone to meet it now? They certainly would not take Peggy and Mrs. Ives, would they? How terrible it would be if they were boarded out there and Peggy would be in the midst of it!”

But as they came on, they saw Mrs. Ives and Peggy in a launch run by no less a personage than Bill himself. Peggy said something to Bill, who ran the launch within speaking distance while she called, “Engine stopped and we had to signal for help. Dad and the Count may have to stay there all night!” Peggy’s face was bright. There was much else that she wanted to tell the girls, but Bill wouldn’t want to wait, she knew.

After nodding brightly to Peggy, Leslie and Sarita looked at each other. “Camouflage,” said Leslie “They meant to send them back all the time. Their engine is all right and that’s the schooner! Bill will go out with the launch, of course, taking the plumber!”

“Plumber!” laughed Sarita.

“Well, isn’t that whom you send for when anything is out of fix?” Quick-witted Leslie’s imagination was right, as it happened. Sending on her boat at full speed, she felt very much relieved to think that Peggy would be safely at home. “I’d pay five cents,” she added, “to know if Mr. Tudor is taking this in.”

As that was Mr. Tudor’s chief business at this time, he was not ignorant of all the moves. Like Leslie, however, he was going in to shore. The schooner would be taken care of at the proper time by others. He knew who was on the yacht and where it lay. He was not so impatient as the girls, for he knew what it all involved. The denouement might be dramatic. He hoped that it would be neither dangerous nor fatal to anyone. No move at all was to be made until the alien passengers were transferred from the schooner. Bill’s scouts were then to be quietly seized, in order that no signal might be given the yacht, though even then the chase upon the open sea would probably be successful. Tom Carey was of great help in learning who these scouts were.

Again that night, like a wraith from the sea, the schooner was seen. Leslie in the Eyrie, where poor Dalton was trying to keep awake after his day of physical labor, found it with the spy-glass and exclaimed. The rest sprang up to look, and while they still tried to distinguish the vessel, whose lights had apparently been extinguished, there was a knock at the door. “It’s Tudor,” spoke a voice.

“Come right in.” Dalton hastened to open the door for Mr. Tudor, who was not quite as calm as usual.

“Good evening, friends. Have you seen the schooner?”

“We have just been looking at it,” said Beth, offering the glass to Evan, who looked for some time.

“It is flying here and there, like a bird trying to reach its nest and avoid the owl that is watching. Ostensibly it has fishing grounds in the vicinity. Perhaps it was a mistake to have our boat pass again, but it is not investigating. The Ives yacht is lying off the coast with some broken machinery, they say. Bill has just brought off the Count and Mr. Ives.

“It will probably be to-morrow night when the schooner unloads. Our boat is leaving just a little before dawn, to assure them that they are not to be searched, and also to prevent their unloading to-night. I believe that our ship is to hail the schooner, appear to be satisfied with inquiry and steam away. Our boat is not very large,—but there is another, not too far out at sea.

“Circumstances often determine what it is best to do. I thought that you would like to know what is going on. I am going to take a sleep now, my friend on guard. If I were you, I should sleep, too.”

After this explanation, Mr. Tudor took his leave. The rather serious Secrest group decided to take his advice. The girls were soon asleep in the Eyrie with their door barred, though Leslie wakened before daylight to lie and think about Peggy.

Peggy herself had many thoughts on the morning of the twenty-eighth. She did not know that the schooner had arrived, but that was the date of the house party. Mr. Ives was still nervous but in better poise, giving orders in regard to certain provisions for the guests. Mrs. Ives was mistress of herself and the situation, for her house was ready, the menus made out with the housekeeper.

Never had Peggy had such a problem to face. She could not bring herself to inform authority against her step-father, and in her indecision she was ready to see who came, what sort of people they were and whether it were really Mr. Ives who was the real smuggler or not. Perhaps he could be persuaded to give it all up, she thought. Mr. Tudor’s knowing worried her. She now felt persuaded that he had been investigating, though she hoped that she was only imagining it.

It was out of Peggy’s hands, however. If the girls had never started to find a mystery out for themselves, the result would have been the same.

Before midnight men were hidden in the pirates’ cave, for Tom had fortunately been appointed watch there. Whether tide and hour would permit entrance by water or by plank and the door, they were ready. Tom Carey could tell them little this time, for plans were known only to Bill. The rest followed his orders.

One government boat was to take the yacht, another was to follow the schooner, and lest slippery Bill should escape in the launch, provision was made for that. It was hoped that the entire number of aliens, high and low, might be transferred to the yacht first because of its size. No interference was to be made until after that occurred. Mr. Tudor told Elizabeth that the smugglers were doubtless hoping for fog to conceal their activities.

The first excitement at the Eyrie occurred about ten o’clock that night, when Dalton, uneasy, sauntered down to their cove and discovered the Sea Crest foundered, not in very deep water to be sure, but it was an unwelcome calamity. The Swallow was floating, but Dalton examined it to find that someone had begun to cut a hole in it. “My coming probably frightened the man away,” Dalton reported at the Eyrie. “They do not want the Sea Crest abroad to-night.”

It did grow somewhat foggy, though not enough so to annoy what boats were out upon the bay. Long since the “engine trouble” of the yacht had been overcome and it had steamed away, up the coast and out of sight. Now, shortly after midnight it appeared, regardless of who might see it, well lighted, its pennants waving in honor of distinguished guests. It approached the bay, at full speed and cutting the waves valiantly.