and lips taut, her hands close-clenched at her sides. Then
drawing a long breath, she relaxed and, with a quiet composure admirably
self-enforced, moved on, setting herself to explore and consider her
surroundings.

The abandoned hotel faced the south, overlooking the greater breadth of
Long Island Sound. In its era of prosperity, the land in front of it to
the water's edge, and indeed for a considerable space on all sides had
been clear--laid out, no doubt, in grassy lawns, croquet grounds and
tennis courts; but in the long years of its desuetude these had reverted
to the primitive character of the main portion of the island, to a
tangle of undergrowth and shrubbery sprinkled with scrub-oak and stunted
pines. In one spot only, a meagre kitchen-garden was under cultivation.

Southward, at the shore, a row of weather-beaten and ramshackle
bath-houses stood beside the rotting remnants of a long dock whose
piles, bereft of their platform of planks, ran out into the water in a
dreary double rank.

Westward, a patch of woodland--progenitor by every characteristic of the
tangle in the one-time clearing--shut off that extremity of the island
where it ran out into a sandy point. Eastward lay an extensive acreage
of low, rounded sand dunes, held together by rank beach-grass and
bordered by a broad, slowly shelving beach of sand and pebbles. To the
north, at the back of the hotel, stretched a waste of low ground finally
merging into a small salt-marsh. Across this wandered a thin plank walk
on stilts which, over the clear water beyond the marsh, became a rickety
landing-stage. At some distance out from the latter a long, slender,
slate-coloured motor-boat rode at its moorings, a rowboat swinging from
its stern. In the larger craft Eleanor could see the head and shoulders
of a man bending over the engine--undoubtedly Mr. Ephraim Clover. While
she watched him, he straightened up and, going to the stern of the
motor-boat, began to pull the dory in by its painter. Having brought it
alongside, he transshipped himself awkwardly, then began to drive the
dory in to the dock. Eleanor remarked the fact that he stood up to the
task, propelling the boat by means of a single oar, thrusting it into
the water until it struck bottom and then putting his weight upon it.
The water was evidently quite shallow; even where the motor-boat lay
moored, the oar disappeared no more than half its length.

Presently, having gained the landing-stage, the