After lunch, Jane, pleading sleepiness, crawled into the port bunk in the saloon and drew the tan curtains. People are apt to respect a feigned desire for sleep far more than a genuine desire for thoughtful solitude and she wanted to think over the events of the morning.

She believed that she owed it to Jack to tell him of her engagement to Breck and yet she felt a strange hesitancy, for as much as she adored her brother, she knew that he would neither understand nor approve of her marrying the quixotic deck hand. The fact that he was a Breckenridge would not alter the case in the least for her brother. Jack was one of those steady, easy-going young men with a kind but peculiarly unsocial outlook. Jane knew that he would have a slight feeling of contempt for a man who had offered himself in marriage to a girl whom he could neither support in the fabled “manner she was accustomed to” nor yet offer a stable income to her.

He would look on the Hurricane Island project as the wildest of wild ideas. The nomadic life she would probably share with Breck would have no appeal to the ease-loving young Kentuckian. His dream of perfect happiness was their lovely old home with Ellen as its mistress and long evenings spent together by the open fire. Jane realized that her brother was a typical “country gentleman” of the last century with a few modern touches in the way of slang. Nor did the differences in their character make her devotion to him any less, but it did make her rather dread the interview she had planned to have with him just before it was time for Frederick Gray to make his appearance. Of her father’s attitude in the matter, she had no fear. He was of the opinion that whatever his children did was right. Aunt Min was radically opposed to any new idea, but when the novelty of a situation had worn off she softened.

“It may be up-hill work but Breck and I are strong enough to see it through,” Jane decided. “The worst part will be talking to Jack. I will never convince him of the fact that I had even more to do with it than Breck did.”

“Jane has been asleep long enough. I’m going down and make her go swimming in this icy water with me.”

Frances left the others on deck and went down into the saloon. She jerked back the curtains to find Jane with her knees drawn up under her chin, her hands clasped around her ankles.

“What a graceful position to sleep in, Jane. I do hope you had a good nap.”

“As long as I am caught, I will admit that I withdrew into this shell to solve the problems of the universe, which being successfully solved, I want very much to go swimming,” Jane said, undoubling and emerging from her retreat.

Frances looked at her friend rather quizzically. “But it’s so unlike our Plain Jane to have problems. Is there anything that I can do? I mean in the way of solving? I’m rather eager to try that new position in thinking.”

“It was a very trying experience for me—that thinking—but, having come to the world-shaking conclusion that the only thing to do in a case like this is to do what you think is right, especially when what you think is right is what you want to do, I am not going to worry any more,” said Jane, catching the bathing suit Frances flung at her.

“What a wise but completely unintelligible Jane it is! But I suppose I must just abide my time and, finally, the secret will be revealed to your humble and admiring slave. Ah, well, I can wait if I have to. But let me say that I have suspected it ever since the night you asked me if I knew whether Breck had his slicker on or not,” said Frances solemnly.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Don’t you remember that night at Plymouth, when you went up in the graveyard by yourself, and when you came back I said you looked like you had had one million adventures? Well, when we returned to the boat it started raining, don’t you remember? And Mr. Wing and Breck went up on deck to see something about that interminable old anchor. I was just about asleep and you woke me up asking me if I knew whether Breck had a raincoat or not. ‘There is something strange about this,’ sez I to meself, sez I, and I have been a quiet but interested observer ever since.”

“You are a darling, Frances, and the world lost a great detective when we Camp Fire Girls made such a good friend,” and Jane gave her hand an affectionate little pat.

“Tell me all about it when you feel like it,” and, with Jane’s promise to do so soon, they went up on deck.

“You lazy ones put on your bathing suits and let’s take the tender and go over and see Tim’s boat. We can swim from the beach. I feel like the water won’t be so cold where it’s shallower,” Frances suggested.

The others, having heard Jane’s glowing account of the “Sabrina,” readily agreed. Soon they were off, leaving Breck, Mr. Wing and Tim to make Frederick Gray feel at home if he should come before the others got back, though, as Jane said, Fred had enough poise to carry off almost any situation.

There was a stretch of sandy beach, flanked by gray boulders, near the “Sabrina’s” anchorage, and after inspec............