There was great fun and excitement at Castle Mahun that night, and Janet's absence was not in the least noticed.

It was a moonlight night, and the squire's will and pleasure was that every member of the household who cared to come should assemble on the wide terrace outside the Castle to hear Biddy play some of the Irish melodies on her harp.

Biddy's performances were well worth listening to. From far and near the heterogeneous crowd who were wont to throng to the Castle assembled to hear her.

"The Harp that once through Tara's Halls" floated on the night breeze. The wild, sweet melody sounded quite eerie, and caused two excited boys to shiver as they listened. They were thinking of Janet on the Witch's Island, and longing for the moment when they might fly down to the boat, row across to the island, and release her from captivity.

"A jig! Let us have a jig!" shouted the squire. "Come, Biddy, colleen, you and Pat give us all an Irish jig."

Bridget was nothing loath to obey. Someone scraped the bow of an old fiddle, and merry, quick music succeeded the more somber notes. Bridget's and Pat's dance was followed by many others, and the fun rose fast and furious.

By and by eleven struck from the clock in the courtyard. The boys crept down unobserved to the shores of the lake, and the rest of the party went to bed.

Bridget had forgotten all her sorrows in a sound sleep. In her healthy young slumbers she had not even room for dreams. A smile lingered round her pretty lips, her dark curly lashes lay heavily on her rose-tinted cheeks.

"Bang! bang!" There came some pummels at her door, then the handle was turned, and muffled feet stepped as noiselessly as they could across the old and creaking boards.

"You wake her, Gerry," said Pat.

"I can't—I don't like to!" said Gerry, with a sob in his throat.

"Well, then, I will. What a little coward you are! Why can't you control yourself? What is the good of being in such a beastly funk? It will be all right when Biddy knows. I say, Biddy! Biddy, wake! How soundly she sleeps! Let's strike a match, and flash it into her eyes, Gerry."

"No, no; Uncle Dennis will hear us," said Gerry, his teeth chattering more than ever.

"Let's pull her, then," said Pat. "Let's give a tug at her hair. Oh, I say, Biddy, you might wake and help a fellow."

These last almost wailing words penetrated the sleeper's dreams. She opened her eyes with a start, and said aloud:

"I won't get into your power, Janet," and then exclaimed in astonishment, when she saw her two cousins standing by her bedside, the moonlight streaming all over them:

"What is the matter?" she said. "You up, Pat, and you, Gerry! What does this mean?"

The moment her words reached his ears Gerry flung himself on his knees, buried his head in the bedclothes, and began to sob violently.

"Oh, do shut up, you little beggar!" said Pat. "What is the good of waking the house? Biddy, we are in an awful mess, Gerry and I, and we can't talk to you here. Won't you get up and come down to the hall, and let us tell you what is the matter? Bruin is the only living creature there, and he'll not let out a sound if we tell him that you are coming."

"Yes, I'll be with you in a minute," said Bridget.

She rose quickly, dressed almost in a twinkling, and a few minutes later was standing with her cousins in the great entrance hall of the Castle.

They quickly told the first part of their tale—all about Janet, and the challenge which had passed between them. Biddy was just as fearless as her cousins, but she, too, was superstitious, and she felt a catch in her breath, and a sudden sensation of respect for Janet, when the boys told her how absolutely indifferent to fear she was, and how willing to spend three hours alone on the haunted island.

"We went back for her sharp at eleven. Poor little spunky thing! she hadn't a scrap of fear when we left her. There she stood, smiling and nodding to us, with that stupid old novel in her hand, and just making us believe that she was going to have quite a good time; but when we went back she was nowhere to be seen. As sure as you are there, Biddy, there wasn't a sight of her anywhere."

"The Witch came, of course, and took her away," said Gerry. He shook all over as he spoke.

"Don't be a goose," said Biddy. "Let me think; it couldn't have been the Witch."

"Why, of course it was, Biddy. Who else could it have been? She's gone; she's not on the island; and you know the stories of the Witch—how she does appear on certain nights when the moon is in the full."

"Yes, I know that," said Bridget. "She does appear, and she frightens folks, and perhaps goes the length of turning them crazy; but she doesn't spirit them away. How can she? Oh, do let me think. Don't talk for a minute, boys; I have got to puzzle this thing out."

The boys did not say a word. Gerry stooped crying, and Pat fixed his big eyes gloomily on his cousin. Biddy was a girl, an Irish girl, and such are quick to jump to conclusions. The boys watched her face now with devouring interest. Bruin rose slowly to his feet, pattered solemnly across the polished floor, and laid his big head on her lap.

Biddy's shapely hand touched his forehead, but her thoughts were far away. After a time she said quickly:

"There is but one thing to be done: we must find Norah Malone without a minute's loss of time."

"Norah!" exclaimed both the boys.

"You must have taken leave of your senses, Bridget!" exclaimed Pat. "What has Norah to do with Janet May and the island?"

"I can't tell you," said Bridget. "I have just a fear in my heart, and Norah may set it at rest. We must find her. We must go to her at once, this very night."

"Where is she?" asked Pat. "I haven't seen her for days past."

"She may be up on the mountain with Donovan. You know they are to be married in a couple of days, and Donovan is to be moved down on a litter to the Castle. Or she may be sleeping at the Hogans' at the lodge. We will go to the Hogans' first, and if they can tell nothing about her we must go up to the mountains. There is nothing whatever else to be done."

"It seems such a waste of time," grumbled Pat. "It is Janet we want to find."

"And I tell you it is through Norah we'll find her," answered Bridget, stamping her foot at him. "Come along, boys, both of you, and Bruin, you come, too. We have a night's work before us, and we haven't a minute to lose."

"It is the night when the moon is at the full," said Gerry, "and—and the Witch may come to us, and—I couldn't bear to look at her."

"Well, go to bed, you little coward!" said Pat, flashing round at him, and aiming a cuff at his head.

Gerry darted behind Bridget for protection.

"Come, boys, don't quarrel," she said. "Gerry, you know you are not a real coward. Come along this minute and help us."

She was unbarring the bolts which secured the great front door as she spoke. The next moment the three young folks were standing on the terrace.

"The dogs will raise an alarm," said Bridget; "that's the worst of them. If so, my father will get up, and everything will be known. Stay, though, I'll send Bruin round to speak to them. Come here, darling, I want you."

The great dog came up to her.

She knelt on the gravel, with the moon shining all over her, and looked into his eyes.

"Go round to the dogs, Bruin," she said, "and tell them to be quiet, and then come back to me. Go quickly."

The deerhound licked his mistress's hand, and then trotted in sober, solemn fashion round by the shrubbery and disappeared.

The girl and the boys waited anxiously. Not a dog bayed, not a sound of any sort was audible. Bruin trod on the velvety turf as he returned. He looked up at Bridget, who bent down and kissed him between the eyes.

"Good King!" she said, and then she and the boys started off as fast as they could to the Hogans' cottage, where Norah might possibly be sleeping.

No sign of her there; no tidings of her, either. Hogan got up and put out a white face of amazement from one of the tiny windows of the cottage when Bridget made her demand. If he knew anything of Norah's whereabouts, neither face nor manner betrayed him.

"It's no good, boys," said Bridget, "she is not there; or if she is, Hogan has got the word not to tell. We might stand and talk to him forever before he'd let even a wink of an eye betray him. There is nothing whatever for it but for us to go to the cottage on the mountains."

Gerry was quite silent now. He took care to keep Bridget between himself and Pat, and no one particularly noticed when he started at his own shadow, and when he looked guiltily behind.

Even to ride on horseback to Donovan's cabin, in the midst of the lonely mountains, took a long time; but to walk on foot in the uncertain moonlight was truly a weary undertaking.

It was between three and four in the morning when the children, exhausted and almost spent, stumbled up against the little cabin, to find the door locked and the house deserted.

Gerry burst out crying, and even Bridget owned that she had come to the end of her resources.

"Don't talk to me, either of you," she said; "I am more persuaded than ever that Norah and Donovan are at the bottom of this. There is nothing for it now but to go home."

"How dare we?" said Pat. "Uncle Dennis will almost kill Gerry and me if he knows of this."

"We must go home, boys; we must face the thing. We had better step out now as fast as we can, or the servants will be up."

"I can't tell Uncle Dennis of this," said Pat; "I simply can't."

"Don't say whether you can or cannot now," said Bridget; "let us go back as quickly as possible."