"To begin with," Captain Brett went on after a long and (to Janet and Marcia) very trying pause, "we've something to hold on to in just the date—Sept 25, 1889—and Amoy."

"What's Amoy, anyway?" demanded Marcia.

"It's a large seaport in the province of Fu-kien, China, and I've stopped there many a time myself. Then there's the date of this wedding. Somebody might possibly remember it. There's just the faintest chance."

"But there aren't any names given," argued Marcia. "And besides, there must be hundreds of Chinese weddings going on all the time. I don't believe you could find any one who could remember just this particular one!"

"There are one or two things about this you don't understand, Marcia. First place, I'm almost certain this isn't any Chinese wedding referred to here. The Chinese don't do things that way. I know a little about their customs. It's English or American. You can bank on that!

"Another thing—about the names. I'm pretty sure that this contains both names—at least the ones the parties went by in China. You see, the Chinese have no equivalents in their language for such names as Jones or Robinson or Brett, for instance. What they do is to take some characteristic of a person, and give him a name signifying that characteristic. I strongly suspect that whatever words in Chinese stand for 'maker of melodies' and 'flower-maiden' are the names the man and woman were known by there."

"Then," interrupted Janet, who had been doing some rapid thinking, "the man must have been some kind of a musician, and the woman may have loved flowers, or looked like a flower, or something of that sort."

"I think it extremely likely," agreed the captain.

"Maker of melodies—musician!" cried Marcia, suddenly hopping up from her deck-chair in excitement. "Does that make you think of anything?"

The captain and Janet both looked rather mystified and shook their heads.

"Why, Cecily, of course!" exclaimed Marcia. "Don't you remember how she adores music—and always seems to be remembering something about that 'TrÄumerei'? I'll warrant—just anything—that these people who got married were some relation to her! And besides, didn't she have one of the bracelets?"

"It looks as if you had run down a clue," admitted Captain Brett. "But I'm sorry to say it doesn't help us much in discovering who these contracting parties were. One point, however, I think it seems to settle—the question whether the bracelet came into the possession of your little friend in some such manner as I got the other, or whether it was hers by right as a family trinket. I believe the latter—almost beyond question. But now comes the difficulty. How are we going to unearth anybody who has any remembrance of—"

Marcia suddenly inspired with an idea, interrupted: "Why not ask Lee Ching? He's Chinese. Who knows but what he came from just that region?"

"Nothing like trying," said the captain. "I don't know what province he hails from, but it won't hurt to ask." And he sent a sailor to summon Lee Ching once more. When he appeared the captain put his first question:

"Lee Ching, what province did you come from?"

"Fu-kien," came the answer, promptly, and the girls' hopes were raised sky-high.

"Did you ever live in Amoy?"

"No, never lived there—always in hills back beyond."

"Well, do you, by any chance, happen to know anything about the parties spoken of in that bracelet translation?"

"No. Was at sea at date mentioned. Young man then—not very well on dry land. Must live on ship always—or not live. Never was acquainted with parties mentioned."

"Thank you. That is all, Lee Ching."

The bright hopes of the girls were considerably dampened, but Marcia was not to be downed.

"Anyway," she argued, "you've other Chinese sailors on board. Why couldn't we question them all? We might find some one who knows."

The captain was rather dubious about it. "Yes, the cook and four sailors are Chinese. You can question them if you like, but I'm afraid it won't be much satisfaction. They're an appallingly ignorant lot! But I'll have them summoned."

In a few moments the five were lined up, and, true to the captain's estimate, a hopeless-looking lot they were. After much confused questioning in Pidgin-English it developed that the cook and two sailors were from the province of Shansi, a third from Kiang-su, and the two others from nowhere in particular that they could seem to remember. None of them knew anything about Amoy beyond the squalid shops about the wharves.

The captain dismissed them all with a disgusted wave of his hand and turned to the girls.

"You see how worse than useless it is to try and find out anything from such sources! I knew it would be so, but I didn't want to discourage you. Now you just leave me to myself for half an hour to smoke in peace and do a little thinking. Go and look at them unloading, or roam around and amuse yourselves in any way you like. Perhaps, if I rack my brains hard, something will occur to me."

They left him pacing up and down on the deck, puffing at his cigar, while they went to explore the great ship all over again. But the occupation, though fascinating, failed to keep their thoughts from the latest phase of the queer mystery that surrounded Cecily Marlowe.

"Do you know," said Marcia, as they stood looking down into the well of the vast engine-room, "it seems simply impossible to me to connect lovely, dainty, English Cecily with anything so oriental as China. I can't understand it. I can't imagine any connection. Can you?"

"No, I can't," admitted Janet. "And, more than that, where does Miss Benedict come in on this Chinese proposition? Nothing could be less connected with it than she! I believe she'd have a fit if she ever saw that awful-looking crowd of Chinese sailors your father had there a while ago. Did you ever see such a rascally looking lot? And poor little Cecily would be horrified!"

"I liked Lee Ching, though. He's so grave and serious and dignified. And isn't his English fascinating? I just love to hear him talk. But oh, I wish Father hadn't sent us away for half an hour! I can hardly wait for the time to pass! Let's go and look at those men on the dock unloading. Why do they make such a racket? You'd think there was a fire or something!"

So they whiled away the time, and at last, promptly on the minute, raced back to Captain Brett.

"Well?" demanded Marcia, breathless. "What now?"

"Just had a happy thought!" The captain threw the stump of his finished cigar over the rail. "I've been trying to think whom I could remember meeting in China during the past years—some responsible person who might know these people or be able to track them down. Suddenly recalled old Major Goodrich. He was an English military attachÉ stationed at Hong-Kong for a while, and I got to know him rather well. He was retired some years ago, and the last I heard of him he was living in this country, somewhere in Pennsylvania, with his only daughter, who happened to have married an American. If anybody were likely to know anything about this business it would be he, for he knew everybody and everything worth knowing about in Amoy at the time. I'll look up his address and write to him to-night. Now I hope that satisfies you both!"

"Father, you're a trump!" cried Marcia, blissfully. "I knew you'd get right to the bottom of this mystery at once."

"Hold on! Don't count your chickens before they're hatched!" warned the captain. "This is only a possibility—not a probability. The major may know nothing whatever about it. But look here! it's high time we were heading for home. We don't want to be late to dinner."

They reached the apartment, bursting with news to tell Aunt Minerva, but were met at the door by that lady, flushed, flustered, and very much excited.

"Such a state of affairs!" she cried. "An hour ago I received a telegram from Cousin Drusilla in Northam saying she was very ill indeed and wouldn't I come up at once, as she was virtually all alone. Of course I've got to go. I can't leave her there sick without a soul to look after her. But what on earth are you all going to do?"

"Oh, go right along, Minerva! The girls and I will get on famously. They can try their hand at housekeeping, and you've a good maid in the kitchen to help. Don't you worry a minute!"

"Yes, but—" began Aunt Minerva.

"You've got just fifteen minutes to catch the Boston express," said the captain, decisively, looking at his watch. "Give me that suitcase and come right along."

Aunt Minerva, who had really been all packed and ready for the past twenty-nine minutes, meekly obeyed.

"I won't be gone more than a few days," she remarked, as she kissed the girls good-by. "I'll get some one to take my place with Drusilla just as soon as I can. Don't let Eliza boil the corn too long, and tell her—" The sentence was never finished, for the captain at that point gently but firmly led her into the hall and closed the door.

And, though the girls suspected it not, this sudden departure of Aunt Minerva had more bearing on the mystery they were trying to solve than any of them dreamed!