The flight across the Pacific from Oahu to Lanai took less than two hours. Early in the afternoon Linda brought the Sky Rocket to a landing on the beach of the lonely island, near to the spot indicated on her map.

“That must be the agent’s shack over there,” she said, as she and Dot climbed out of the cockpit. “I hope he’s there.”

The girls walked along the beach a short distance. How different it was from Waikiki! How deserted! Yet just as beautiful in the bright sunlight. Before they reached the shack, however, a man in a linen suit came out to meet them.
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“Miss Carlton and Miss Crowley, I suppose?” he inquired, holding out his hand. He was a pleasant-faced man of middle age, with a tanned complexion and eyes as blue as the waters of the Pacific. “My name is Jardin. I have the wireless from Honolulu.”

“Then you know all about us,” said Linda. “Can you take us to Steven Long’s plantation?”

“Yes, I can. But it doesn’t seem possible that that man is a criminal. What are the charges against him?”

Briefly, Linda told the facts of her story.

“But those are all charges against the girl,” Jardin pointed out. “You haven’t anything against Long.”

“He stole two planes,” insisted Dot.

“You mean his wife stole them. I don’t think that man can fly.”

Linda and Dot looked at each other in disappointment. How awful it would be if they couldn’t bring Sprague to justice! For they believed that he was responsible for the whole affair.

“Well, we’ve got plenty against the girl—if she is the one you’re seeking,” concluded Jardin. “So I’ll get my runabout and drive you over to their plantation.”

“Wait!” interposed Dot. “A plane’s coming! Who can it be?”
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“Probably only some of the coast guards,” explained Jardin, gazing up at the approaching monoplane. It was the type used by the U. S. fliers in their patrol about the islands.

Nearer and nearer it whirred; a moment later it swooped down on the beach a short distance from them. The pilot climbed out of the cockpit, and the girls, recognizing him instantly, uttered a wild cry of joy. It was Bertram Chase!

“Bert!” they both cried at the same time, as he rushed forward and seized their hands. “What miracle brought you here?”

“I found out about your flight at the Honolulu airport,” he replied. “You might know I’d come after you, no matter where you went!”

“But what are you doing in Hawaii?” demanded Dot.

“I sailed from Los Angeles the very night I left you—after I put the Ladybug into the airport. We’re on the track of a counterfeiter, and a clue pointed to Honolulu. Money turned in at a bank there. So I was sent to Hawaii. Lucky break for me!” He looked admiringly at Linda.
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“That’s great!” exclaimed Dot. “Leave your plane here and come along with us in Mr. Jardin’s car. We think we’re going to nab Linda’s double at last.”

Mr. Jardin took the wheel of his runabout and Linda sat beside him. In the rumble-seat behind, Dot and Bert Chase laughed and talked excitedly of the adventure.

Over the beach, through lanes that could hardly be called roads, the little car threaded its way into the heart of the island. Fifteen minutes later, within sight of a low, straw-covered bungalow, it came to a stop.

“This is Long’s place,” announced Jardin. “Do you all want to come in with me?”

“Certainly,” replied Dot, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Along a path overgrown with ferns and flowers, in thick profusion, the little party went single file to the veranda of the bungalow. Not a person was in sight; the place looked empty. Had Sprague and his wife run away again—or were they only hiding?

Jardin stepped boldly up to the door and rapped. A native boy answered his summons in a minute or two.
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“Meester Jardin,” he said, with a grin of welcome.

“Is your master about?” asked the agent.

The boy nodded and beckoned for them to come inside.

The room to which the door opened was deserted. A plain, bare room, with only a few rough chairs, a table, and a hard cot. Not exactly the kind of place a woman would enjoy.

“I get him,” said the boy, indicating for the visitors to be seated, and going out of the front door again.

Linda and Dot sat down upon the hard chairs, but Chase wandered aimlessly around the room, examining its scanty contents with curiosity. Another native boy came in with a pitcher of water, and Jardin inquired for Mrs. Long.

“She sick,” he explained, briefly, pointing to another room beyond, and he, too, disappeared.
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They drank their water, and waited tensely. Why didn’t the man come? Did he suspect something? Chase continued to walk about the room, peering with interest, at the closed door where the girl was supposed to be lying, stopping now at the table beside a window, and picking up a little tool that looked like a nut-pick, that was lodged in a crack between the table and the window-sill.

“What’s that, Bert?” asked Dot idly, not because she cared about knowing, but just for something to say.

“Looks like a dentist’s drill to me,” remarked Jardin, with a shudder.

But Chase was holding it up, examining it closely, his eyes staring with unbelief. He had made a discovery!

“I’m going to investigate this place!” he announced, putting the little instrument into his pocket. “See you later.” And he went out of the front door.

“Now what do you suppose............