So anxious was Leslie to impart this newest development to Phyllis that morning, that she ate no breakfast at all, a departure which worried Miss Marcia not a little. But Leslie was out of the house and off the moment she had finished washing the dishes.

It was some time before she could locate her companion, as the Kelvins had gone off early on a fishing expedition a short way up the inlet, having persuaded Phyllis to join them, a thing she had done but little of late. After a long walk and much halloo-ing, however, Leslie sighted their boat. And it took considerable time before she could persuade Phyllis to come ashore, as she could not very well impart to her, standing on the bank, that she had news of vital importance concerning their secret.

When Phyllis had at last been lured ashore and the two had walked away out of sight, she told the tale of her curious experience at dawn.

“And now, Phyllis, what do you make of it?” she demanded, wide eyed.

“There’s only one thing to make of it,” returned Phyllis, gravely, “And that is—there’s some one else mixed up in this—some one we haven’t known about or counted on at all! I thought Miss Ramsay, all along, was the only one concerned in it. Now we can only guess that that isn’t so. But how to make head or tail of the whole thing is beyond me. What kind of a man did you say he was?”

Leslie described him again. “Of course, it was still hardly light and I couldn’t see him plainly at all,” she ended. “I never even got a glimpse of his face, nor how he was dressed. But he was tall and broad-shouldered, and I think stooped a little and walked with quite a decided limp.”

“That last fact ought to help to identify him, if nothing else,” mused Phyllis. “But I confess I’m more at sea than ever about the whole thing. I was beginning to think I’d reduced things to some kind of a theory, but this upsets everything. And it annoys me so to think I’m always out of it, being so far away from Curlew’s Nest. I do believe I’ll have to come and spend my nights with you or I’ll never be on the scene of action at the most interesting time!”

“Oh, I do wish you would!” urged Leslie, earnestly. “I’m really beginning to be quite nervous about all this. It’s so uncanny, not being able to say a word about it to Aunt Marcia or any one—being all alone there, or as good as alone, when these queer things happen. Don’t you suppose we could arrange it somehow that you could come over and stay with me—without having it seem odd or out of the way to the others?”

They both thought hard over the problem for a moment. Suddenly Phyllis cried,—“I have it—I think! I heard Father and Ted planning to-day to be off fishing to-night, and as many nights after as the conditions are good. They just adore that kind of thing and have done very little of it this time. As a rule, I don’t mind a bit staying alone at the bungalow if I don’t happen to go with them. But I’ve never before had the excuse of having you here to be with. It will seem perfectly natural for me to say that, as they’re to be away, I’ll spend the night with you. How’s that?”

“Oh, just the thing!” exclaimed Leslie, enthusiastically. “And now let’s go back and take a swim. It’s fairly mild and the best time of day for it. You left your suit at our house last time, so it’s very convenient. You won’t have to walk all the way back to your place.”

They strolled back to Rest Haven in a leisurely fashion and had just turned the corner of the house and come in sight of the front veranda, when what they saw there almost took them off their feet. On the veranda sat Aunt Marcia, rocking comfortably back and forth, and opposite her, in another rocker sat—could their eyes have deceived them?—who but the redoubtable Miss Ramsay!

She was dressed as they had seen her in the village store, and she was chatting, with an appearance of the greatest affability, with Miss Marcia. The two girls stared at her in ill-concealed amazement—so ill-concealed, in fact, that even Miss Marcia noticed it.

“Miss Ramsay and I have been getting acquainted while we waited for you to come back,” she remarked, somewhat bewildered by their speechless consternation. “She says she made your acquaintance at Aunt Sally Blake’s in the village, where she is boarding.”

“Oh—er, yes!” stuttered Phyllis, remembering her manners. “It’s very pleasant to see you here, Miss—Ramsay. I see you are acquainted with Miss Crane. This is Miss Leslie Crane her niece.”

Leslie bowed and murmured something inarticulate, but Miss Ramsay was affable to a degree. “I drove over to your cottage first, Miss Kelvin,” she chatted on, after her introduction, “with some eggs Aunt Sally promised you. She was going to send them by the butcher boy, but he did not stop this morning, so, as I was going out, I offered to take them. But I found no one at your place, so I came on here, introduced myself to Miss Crane, and we’ve been having a nice time together.”

The astonishment of the girls at this amazing change of front in the difficult Miss Ramsay was beyond all expression. Her intonation was slightly English, her manner charming. They had not dreamed that she could be so attractive. And so fresh and pretty was she that she was a real delight to look upon.

“What delightful little cottages these are!” she went on. “They look so attractive from the outside. I’m sure they must be equally so from the inside. We have nothing quite on this style in England, where I came from.”

“Wouldn’t you like to go through ours?” asked Miss Marcia, hospitably. “Leslie, take Miss Ramsay through. Perhaps she will be interested to see the interior.”

“Oh, I’ll be delighted!” exclaimed Miss Ramsay, and rose to accompany Leslie.

It did not take them long to make the round of Rest Haven. Rather to her hostess’s astonishment, the girl seemed more enthusiastic over Leslie’s room than any of the others and lingered there the longest, though it was by no means the most attractive.

“What a wonderful view you have of the sea!” she said. And then she strolled to the other window and looked out, long and curiously. “That’s an interesting little cottage next door,” she remarked presently. “Is it—is it just like this one?”

“Why no. It’s larger and differently arranged and furnished more elaborately, too, I—I believe,” faltered Leslie, hoping she had not appeared to know too much about it.

“I wonder if we could go through it?” went on the visitor. “I—I just love to see what these little seashore places look like. They’re so different from ours.”

“Oh, I hardly think so!” cried Leslie. “You see it’s all locked up for the winter, and Mrs. Danforth, who owns it, has the key.”

The girl looked at her intently. “And there’s no other way, I suppose, beside the front door?”

“How should I know?” countered Leslie, suddenly on her guard. “If there were would it be right to try it, do you think? Wouldn’t it be too much like trespassing?”

“Oh, of course!” laughed Miss Ramsay. “I only meant that it would be fun to look it over, if there were any proper way of doing so. You see, Grandfather and I might be here another summer and I’d just love to rent a little cottage like either one of these two.”

She turned away from the window and they sauntered out of the room and back to the veranda.

“And now that you’ve seen Leslie’s bungalow, you must run over and see ours, especially as it was at ours you at first intended to call!” said Phyllis. “Come along, Leslie, and we’ll show Miss Ramsay over Fisherman’s Luck!”

It struck the girls that Miss Ramsay showed a trifle less enthusiasm about returning to the other cottage. Still, she agreed, with a fair assumption of polite interest, and they tramped back along the beach, chatting agreeably.

But she showed very genuine pleasure in the entirely different appearance of Phyllis’s abode, and a large surprise at the presence of a grand piano in so unusual a place. And when Leslie had informed her of Phyllis’s talent she eagerly demanded that they be given an immediate concert.

And it was Phyllis’s sudden whim to render a very charming and touching program, ending with the Chopin “Berceuse.” The music died away in a hushed chord, and Leslie, who had been gazing out at the ocean during its rendering, was astonished when she looked around to see the visitor furtively wiping away a few tears.

“I’m a perfect goose about some kinds of music!” she muttered apologetically, and then, abruptly, “Won’t you two girls please call me Eileen? I’m so lonely here and I haven’t any friends and—and—I’d like to see you often.”

And then the impulsive Phyllis put a comradely arm about her shoulder. “Just come as often as you like. We’ll always be delighted to see you. I’m sure we three can have a jolly time together. And be sure to call us by our first names, too.”

“Thank you, Phyllis and Leslie,” she said simply. “You are more than kind to me. But I must be getting back now. It’s most time for me to go to the hospital to see Grandfather. He’s so ill, and I’m so worried about him!” Again the tears came into her eyes. “But good-by! I’m coming over to-morrow with the car to take you all out for a spin!” And she was gone, running down the path to where she had parked the car.

When they were alone, the two girls looked at one another.

“It’s the most amazing thing I ever heard of—this change in her!” marveled Phyllis. “Have you the slightest idea what has caused it?”

“I think I have,” answered Leslie, and she told of the girl’s curious conduct when she was being shown through Rest Haven. “I believe she had a purpose in coming here—she may have thought she could find out something from us. And she certainly thought she might get into Curlew’s Nest, though I don’t believe for a minute the reason she gave was the only one. I think she didn’t particularly want to go to see your place, either, but when she got here she liked it.”

“Yes, and I like her—strange as you may think it!” declared Phyllis. “I’ve quite changed my mind about her. Do you know, I think that girl is having a whole lot of trouble, somehow or other—trouble she can’t tell us about. What the mystery is and how it is connected with that cottage, I don’t see. But I do believe that she likes us, and if we’re ever going to solve this mystery at all, it will probably be through her.”

“Shall we—do you think we ought to—give her the Dragon’s Secret?” faltered Leslie.

“I certainly do not—at least not yet! I’ll wait till I know a few things more before I make a move like that!” declared the emphatic Phyllis. “And now come along and let’s have our swim.”