rs. "I was
down at the bottom of your garden whistling for over ten minutes as hard
as I could whistle. I wonder you didn't hear me."

"Hear you!" cried Mr. Chalk, guiltily conscious of a feeling of
disappointment quite beyond his control. "What do you mean by coming and
whistling for me, eh? What do you mean by it?"

"I wanted to see you private," said Miss Vickers, calmly, "but it's just
as well. I went and saw Mr. Tredgold this morning instead."

"On a matter of business," said Mr. Tredgold, looking at her. "She came
to me, as one of the ordinary public, about some--ha--land she's
interested in."

"An island," corroborated Miss Vickers.

Mr. Chalk took a chair and looked round in amazement. "What, another?"
he said, faintly.

Mr. Tredgold coughed. "My client is not a rich woman," he began.

"Chalk knows that," interrupted Mr. Stobell. "The airs and graces that
girl will give herself if you go on like that----"

"But she has some property there which she is anxious to obtain,"
continued Mr. Tredgold, with a warning glance at the speaker. "That
being so----"

"Make him wish he may die first," interposed Miss Vickers, briskly.

"Yes, yes; that's all right," said Tredgold, meeting Mr. Chalk's startled
gaze.

"It will be when he's done it," retorted the determined Miss Vickers.

"It's a secret," explained Mr. Tredgold, addressing his staring friend.
"And you must swear to keep it if it's told you. That's what she means.
I've had to and so has Stobell."

A fierce grunt from Mr. Stobell, who was still suffering from the
remembrance of an indignity against which he had protested in vain, came
as confirmation. Then the marvelling Mr. Chalk rose, and instructed by
Miss Vickers took an oath, the efficacy of which consisted in a fervent
hope that he might die if he broke it.

"But what's it all about?" he inquired, plaintively.

Mr. Tredgold conferred with Miss Vickers, and that lady, after a moment's
hesitation, drew a folded paper from her bosom and beckoned to Mr. Chalk.
With a cry of amazement he recognised the identical map of Bowers's
Island, which he had last seen in the hands of its namesake. It was
impossible to mistake it, although an attempt to take it in his hand was
promptly frustrated by the owner.

"But Captain Bowers said that he had burnt it," he cried.

Mr. Tredgold eyed him coldly. "Burnt what?" he inquired.

"The map," was the reply.

"Just so," said Tredgold. "You told