tination of the yacht had come
from Leith. It was not the first time I had heard of the Isle of Tears.
Strange stories floated across the Pacific concerning the little islet
east of the Suvaroff Group, and out of the reticule of the mind I
attempted to drag these stories and piece them together during the
minutes that passed after Newmarch had given me the information. They
were not pleasant stories as I remembered them at that moment. The
island had a "past." The mention of it brought hazy recollections to
natives--recollections that were too misty to put into words, but which
the untutored mind connected with happenings that were anything but
pleasant. And I recalled a night at "Tonga Pete's" place on the Rue de
Rivoli at Papeete, when a sailor from a copra schooner in the bay, who
had been marooned upon the island by Captain "Bully" Hayes, told a wild,
weird story of unexplainable happenings that he had witnessed during the
two days and two nights he had spent ashore.

Holman came hurrying upon deck as I was endeavouring to remember all the
story that the sailor had told, and the youngster immediately rushed me
with the news.

"The captain has just told me," I said.

"Well, Leith has just given the information out in the cabin," he cried.
"They must have decided to give it out at the same moment."

"But the Professor?" I asked. "Surely he knew. Do you mean to say that
he was ignorant of the fact that it was the Isle of Tears and not
Penrose Island that we were making for?"

Holman laughed at my question. "You haven't spoken much to him, Verslun.
He couldn't remember the name of a place three minutes. He only knows
that there are archaeological treasures on this island we are going to,
and he doesn't care two cents about its name. Leith has told him some
tall stories about the camp, judging by the way the old man's eyes shine
when he mentions it. Yesterday he read me Leith's description of stone
_hamungas_ and things that are supposed to have been built before Julius
Caesar invaded Britain, and he's pop-eyed with joy as he thinks how
he'll yank Fame by the tail when he gets on the ground and snapshots the
affairs. Gee! I'm glad I haven't got a kink for digging up relics and
dodging about places that went to smash thousands of years ago. A vice
like that is more expensive than the poker habit."

"Well, Newmarch says we'll strike it early in the morning," I said, "and
then we'll see whether your suspicions are cor