rictly private."

Wilkins pressed a button, and after a few seconds announced: "Mr.
Locke, there's a gentleman here to see you from Captain Dinshaw. He
wants to speak to you privately."

"Put him on the wire," said Locke. "Hello! I guess you've got the
wrong party."

"No, sir," said Jarrow. "I was sent to see you. I'm from Captain
Dinshaw."

"Don't know him," said Locke. "What's it about?"

"The island," said Jarrow, still cautious.

"Island! Oh, yes, the old fellow with the picture. All right, come
on up."

Jarrow was soon before the door of the Lockes' suite and was
ushered into a room which overlooked the bay, the windows open and
the awnings down. He saw a young woman seated before a small table
covered with tea things, and a tall young man standing near by. Mr.
Locke stood just inside the door, but what warmed Jarrow's heart
and bolstered his courage was a picture of Dinshaw's island which
lay on a divan. There was the proof that the old captain had talked
with these people.

Locke regarded his visitor with a puzzled air, but concealed his
surprise. The stranger seemed to him to be strangely furtive and
sinister, standing in the half-light, ears twitching, a clipped
skull thrust forward on a short neck like the head of a turtle
pushing out from a shell.

"I didn't get your name, sir," said Locke, in a friendly way, to
save his guest embarrassment.

"Jarrow's my name. I got a wreckin' business. You ask anybody in
Manila about me."

"And you say Dinshaw sent you?"

"Yes, sir. I take it you've had a talk with him."

"So I have."

"Then it's all right. Understand he mentioned me."

"You are Captain Jarrow? And you have a schooner?" asked Trask.

"Jarrow!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Of course! Don't you remember, Dad?
Captain Dinshaw told us about Captain Jarrow."

"Oh, yes, yes," said Locke. "You're the man he said would go to his
island. This is my daughter, Miss Marjorie--and Mr. Trask."

Jarrow ducked his head. Locke had introduced the others more for
the purpose of gaining time to study this hulking, limp-kneed man
who stood before him like a gorilla crouched for a spring and
squeezing a soft straw hat into a shapeless lump in his hands.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Locke, and took his hat. Jarrow allowed
himself to sink carefully into a gold-backed chair of doubtful
strength and capacity.

"Perhaps you'll take a cup of tea," suggested Marjorie.

"No, thanks, ma'am. I don't eat nothin' much