one and put his ear against it, listening intently and trying to shut out the tumult of the sea. Not a sound came from within. The same silence met him at the other door. He returned to the first and leaning close to it he called softly "Evalani!" But there came no answer. He stood still, debating what to do. There seemed to be no one here, and yet this must be the house. It answered the meager description at every point. He would return to the road and wait there for Bert and Jack. As he passed the other door he stopped beside it again and called "Evalani!" and bent his head to listen. There came no answer; and yet vaguely it seemed to him that he heard something within the room—a movement, a rustle, a mere consciousness of life, he could scarcely tell. He called again, and again came the indefinite response. In an instant he had put his shoulder to the door and it sprang open with a bang and a crash and his flash-light suddenly splashed upon the figure of Evalani upon the floor, gagged and bound with wide strips of white cloth which wound about her like the wrappings of a mummy.
On the moment he was down beside her, loosening the gag and cutting wildly at the wrapping bandages, while the girl lay limp, her wide eyes gleaming up at him in the rays of the flash-light which lay on the floor by her head. And all the time he was talking to her brokenly. "Darling, my darling!
