True to their previous arrangement, Phyllis spent the night with Leslie at Rest Haven. They read together till a very late hour and then sat up even later, in the dark, watching from Leslie’s window to see if there were any further developments at Curlew’s Nest. But nothing unusual happened.

“Isn’t that exactly my luck!” complained Phyllis. “If I weren’t here, I suppose there’d be a half a dozen spooky visitors!”

“Oh, no!” laughed Leslie. “Probably nothing will happen again for some time. Remember how very few times it has happened, anyway. But it is provoking—just when we’re all ready for it!”

“Do you know,” exclaimed Phyllis suddenly, “this is the time when I’d just love to go through that place again! What do you say if we get out of this window and try it?”

“Oh, no, no!” cried Leslie. “You mustn’t think of such a thing! Can’t you see how awfully dangerous it would be? Just suppose some one should take it into their heads to visit the place again to-night—and find us in there. It would be a terrible position for us!”

“I wouldn’t be afraid of Eileen!” stoutly declared Phyllis. “I’d rather enjoy meeting her there. It would give her something to explain!”

“But there’s some one else you might meet there who might not be so amusing—the man with the limp!” Leslie reminded her.

Phyllis had to acknowledge that this was so, and the subject was dropped, much to Leslie’s relief.

Next afternoon, Eileen came over with her car and invited the girls and Miss Marcia to go for a long ride. They all accepted with alacrity, enjoying the prospect of a change. Eileen insisted that Miss Marcia sit by her while she drove. And as she did this with remarkable ease, she was able to converse pleasantly with her guests most of the time. She took them for a very long drive, and they were all astonished at her familiarity with the roads in that part of the country. She assured them that she had grown to know them well, during the long days lately when she had little else to do than to explore them with the car.

It was dusk when they returned at last to the beach, and, having deposited Phyllis first at her bungalow, Eileen drove the others to theirs. They bade her good night at the foot of the wooden path that led up the slope to their cottage, and she sat and watched them, without starting the car, till they had disappeared indoors. But it so happened that Leslie turned around, opened the door, and came out again almost at once to get an armful of wood for the fire from the bin on the back veranda. And in so doing, it happened also that she witnessed a curious little incident.

Eileen seemed to have had a slight difficulty in starting the car, but it was in motion now, going slowly, and had advanced only about as far as the path leading up to Curlew’s Nest. Leslie stood in the darkness of her porch, idly watching its progress, when something that happened caused her heart to leap into her throat. Out from some thick bushes at the edge of the road, there appeared a dark form, which signaled to the car. Eileen whirled the wheel around, applied the brake, and the car almost came to a stop. Almost—but not quite, for the figure leaped into it while it was still going. Then Eileen stepped on the accelerator, the car shot forward, and was almost instantly out of sight.

Leslie got her wood and went indoors in a daze. What could it all mean? What duplicity had Eileen been guilty of now? The thing certainly looked very, very sinister, consider it how you would! And she could breathe no word of it to her aunt, who, as Leslie entered, straightway began on a long eulogy of Eileen, her delightful manners, her thoughtfulness, and her kindness in giving them an afternoon of such enjoyment. It seemed to Leslie, considering what had just happened, that she must certainly scream with nervousness if Miss Marcia did not stop, and she tried vainly several times to steer her to another theme. But Miss Marcia had found a topic that interested her, and she was not to be diverted from it till it was exhausted!

With all her strength, Leslie longed for the time to come when Phyllis should appear, for she had promised to come again for the night. And when the supper was eaten and the dishes had been disposed of, Leslie went outside and paced and paced back and forth on the front veranda, peering vainly into the darkness to watch for her friend. Miss Marcia, indoors with Rags by the blazing fire, called several times to her to come in and share the warmth and comfort, but she felt she could not endure the confinement in the house and the peaceful sitting by the hearth, when her thoughts were so upset. Would Phyllis never appear? What could be keeping her?

It was a small, but very active, indignation meeting that was held when the two girls were at last together. Leslie would not permit Phyllis to go indoors for a time after she arrived, though the night was rather chilly, but kept her on the veranda to explain what had happened.

“The deceitful little thing!” cried Phyllis. “Now I see exactly what she took us all out for this afternoon, even Miss Marcia—to get rid of us all for a good long time while some accomplice of hers did what they pleased in Curlew’s Nest, quite undisturbed by any one around!”

“That’s exactly what it must have been,” agreed Leslie. “But who could that other person have been?”

“The man with the limp?” suggested Phyllis.

“No, I’m very sure it was not he. This person sprang into the car while it was still in motion—was very active, evidently. I’m certain the man with the limp could never have done that!”

“Well, was it a man or a woman? Surely you could tell that!”

“No, actually I couldn’t. It was getting so dark, and the figure was so far off, and it all happened so quickly that I couldn’t see. But, Phyllis, I’m horribly disappointed in Eileen! I had begun to think she was lovely, and that we had misjudged her badly. And now—this!”

“She’s simply using us—that’s plain,” agreed Phyllis. “She evidently intended to do so from the first, after she found out we were right on the spot here. She deliberately came out to cultivate our acquaintance and make it seem natural for her to be around here. Then she and the one she’s working with planned to get us away from here for the whole afternoon and have the field free for anything they pleased. Faugh! It makes me sick to think of being duped like that!”

“But after yesterday—and the way she acted when you played Chopin, and what she said about our friendship, and all that—Was anything genuine at all?”

“Not a thing!” declared Phyllis, positively. “All put on to get a little farther into our good graces. Well, I’ll never be caught like that again. We’ll continue to seem very friendly to Miss Eileen Ramsay, but we won’t be caught twice!”

“By the way, what made you so late to-night?” questioned Leslie, suddenly changing the subject. “I thought you’d never come!”

“Oh, I meant to tell you right away, but all this put it out of my head. When I got home after the ride, I found only Father there. He said Ted had been away most of the afternoon. He’d gone down to the village after some new fishing-tackle and hadn’t come back yet. I started in and got supper, and still he didn’t appear. Then we began to get worried and ’phoned down to Smithson’s in the village where they sell tackle, to see if he could be there. They said he had been, early in the afternoon, but they hadn’t seen him since. We called up every other place he could possibly be, but nowhere was he to be found. I was beginning to be quite upset about him—when in he walked!

“He was very quiet and uncommunicative and wouldn’t explain why he was so late. And then, presently, he said in a very casual manner that his hand was hurt. And when he showed it to us, I almost screamed, for it was very badly hurt—all torn and lacerated. He had it wrapped in his handkerchief, but we made him undo it, and I bathed it and Father put iodine on, and I fixed him a sling to wear it in. The thing about it was that he didn’t seem to want to tell us how it happened. Said he met a friend who invited him to ride in their car and had taken him for a long drive. And on the way home they’d had a little breakdown, and Ted had tried to help fix it and had got his hand caught in the machinery somehow.

“But he was plainly very anxious not to be questioned about it. And Father says that Ted is old enough now to be trusted, and should not be compelled to speak when he doesn’t wish to, and so nothing more was said. But it all seemed a little strange to me, for, honestly, I don’t know a single soul in this village that Ted knows who owns a car, or any other of our friends who would be likely to be around these parts just now. They’re all home at their schools or colleges. When I asked him whose car he was in, he just glared at me and said I always did ask too many impertinent questions! But I can’t make much out of it, and I hate any more puzzles to think about.”

Leslie, however, could cast no light on this new problem; and she was somewhat more interested, moreover, in their other puzzle. But as she was about to revert to that subject again, Phyllis suddenly interrupted:

“Oh, by the way, soon after I got home, Aunt Sally ’phoned to ask if we were back from the ride yet. And when I said we’d been back some time, she said she was quite worried because Eileen had not yet appeared and it was late and dark. I said perhaps she had stopped somewhere in the village, as she had left us a good while before. Quite a little later, just before Ted got in, Aunt Sally ’phoned again to say that Eileen had just arrived. She’d had some trouble with the car after she left us and had to stop and fix it. I wonder what was the matter there!”

Suddenly Leslie clutched her friend’s arm. “Phyllis Kelvin, are we going crazy, or is there some strange connection in all this? Can’t you see?—Ted late and mixed up with some breakdown—Eileen late and had trouble with the machinery,—and with my own eyes I saw some one jump into her car!—Could it, could it be possible that person was—Ted?”

Phyllis stared at her as if she thought Leslie certainly had “gone crazy.” “There’s not the slightest chance in the world!” she declared positively. “Why, only last night, when I was explaining to Ted about Eileen and how we’d become friends, all he said was: ‘Well, so you’ve taken up with some other dame, have you! Might as well not have brought you down here, all the good you are to us, this time. Haven’t been fishing with us more than twice since we came! Whoever this Eileen is, don’t for goodness sake have her around here!’ If he’d known her, he certainly would have shown it in some way. He acted utterly disgusted with me for having made her acquaintance!”

“That may all be true, but it doesn’t prove that he is not acquainted with her,” stubbornly affirmed Leslie.

And Phyllis was driven to acknowledge the force of the argument!