ur own life that you never suspected before?" she
laughed.

"Exactly. You have done me a service like the good old friend you
always were."

She took his hand, and he noticed that hers was a trifle cold. They
started toward the hallway.

From the broad veranda of Mallaby House the view extended a dozen
miles to sea. Beneath the hill on which the mansion stood the village
of Freekirk Head nestled against the green. Now the dim, yellow
lights of its many lamps glowed in the darkness and edged the crescent
of stony beach where washed the cold waters of Flag's Cove.

To the left at one tip of the crescent the flash of Swallowtail Light
glowed and died like the fire in a gigantic cigarette. To the right,
at the other, could be seen the faint lamps of Castalia, three miles
away.

For a minute they stood drinking in the superb beauty of it all. Then
Elsa left him with a conventional word, and Schofield heard the great
front door close softly behind her.

Silently he descended the steps, when suddenly from the town below
came the hideous, raucous shriek of a steam-whistle.

He stood for a minute, astonished, for the whistle was that of the
steamer _Grande Mignon_, that daily plied between the island and the
mainland. Now the vessel lay at her dock and Code, as well as all the
island, knew that her wild signaling at such an hour foreboded some
dire calamity.

Swiftly buttoning his coat, he started on a run down the winding,
rocky path that led from Mallaby House. He cast one more glance toward
the roofs of the village before he plunged among the pine and
tamarack, and in that instant caught a red glow from the general
direction of the fish wharfs.

CHAPTER II

THE RED PERIL

Five minutes of plunging and slipping brought him down to the main
road that gleamed a dim gray in the blackness. A quarter of a mile
east lay the wharfs, the general store, and some of the best dwellings
in Freekirk Head.

Ahead of him in the road he could see lanterns bobbing, and the
illuminated legs of the men who carried them running. Behind he heard
the muffled pound of boots in thick dust, and the hoarse panting of
others racing toward the scene of the trouble. The frantic screeching
of the steamer's whistle (that was not yet silent) had done its work
well. Freekirk Head was up in arms.

Instinctively and naturally Code Schofield ran, just as he had run
from his father's house since he was ten years old. His long, easy
stri