over the oars and show him how to row a boat. Instead, she reconciled herself to a slow trip under the broiling noonday sun and tried to become interested in a small sailboat which was tacking in toward the harbor.

At length, they drew near The Flora, approaching from the port side. Madge scanned the railing for a glimpse of her friends. The decks appeared deserted.

“Where is everyone?” she asked in surprise.

The boatman rowed alongside of the yacht and she grasped a trailing rope.

“Hallo, aboard!” she called out.

There was no answer. “You see,” the boatman muttered. “No one aboard. We go back.”

“Not yet, we don’t,” Madge corrected. “There must be someone here.” She glanced at her wrist watch and saw that it was twelve-fifteen. “Probably everyone is eating luncheon in the cabin.”

She shouted again but as there was no reply, indicated to her boatman that she wanted him to row around the yacht until they came to a rope ladder which hung down over the side.

“Do you mind climbing up to see if anyone is aboard?” she asked.

The boatman rewarded her with another blank stare.

“He understands perfectly,” Madge thought irritably. “Oh, well, I see I either must argue until I’m black in the face or do it myself.”

Instructing the boatman to wait for her, she grasped the rope and began the ascent. The ladder weaved back and forth as the vessel rolled gently in the waves but Madge was not afraid of falling.

“I feel like a monkey in the zoo,” she chuckled. “Such a dignified way to arrive!”

She reached the deck and looked about. Everything was in order but there was no sign of activity. It struck her as peculiar that no sailors were on duty, although she knew that Mr. Burnett employed only a few men. Everything was strangely quiet.

“It begins to look as though I’m not expected,” she told herself. “Of course, Enid and her father may have gone to the station after I left. That would account for their absence. I hope I didn’t miss them.”

She wandered around to the opposite side of the yacht and paused before a door which led down into the dining salon. It was half ajar and as she opened it wider she saw that the salon was empty.

“Not a sign of the cook or anyone,” she reflected. “This is what I call an enthusiastic welcome! And I’m half starved too!”

Passing a stateroom, Madge thought she heard a slight sound from within. She knocked loudly upon the closed door. There was no response.

She turned away, only to pause and retrace her steps. A queer intuitive feeling had taken possession of her—a conviction that all was not as it should be aboard the yacht.

She hesitated before the door, scarcely knowing whether or not it was her business to investigate. Then with sudden decision, she grasped the knob and turned it.

The sight that greeted Madge’s eyes left her startled and dumbfounded.

“Oh,” she gasped. “What dreadful thing has happened?”

CHAPTER III
The Abandoned Yacht

The door had swung back to reveal a wrecked stateroom. Everything was in confusion. Chairs were upset, papers strewn over the floor and a table lamp had toppled to the floor. Obviously, the room had been occupied by Mr. Burnett, for his clothing hung on nails along the wall, but there was no sign of the noted yachtsman. The bed had not been slept in on the previous night.

Madge was thoroughly alarmed. It was immediately apparent to her that something was radically wrong. She saw clearly that there had been a struggle, and from the condition of the furniture and fixtures, it had been a desperate one. What had become of Mr. Burnett and Enid?

“It’s a case for the police,” she decided instantly. “I must return to the city as quickly as I can and bring someone here!”

Closing the door behind her, she ran back to the railing. Peering down, she searched in vain for her boatman. Her eyes turned shoreward and she saw him several hundred yards away, rowing hurriedly toward the harbor.

“Come back!” she called frantically. “I want to go with you!”

She shouted until she was nearly hoarse, but the boatman gave no indication that he heard. He kept his face lowered and not once did he glance back toward the yacht.

“Now what shall I do?” Madge asked herself in desperation. “I believe that man left me stranded here on purpose! Oh, I could scalp him!”

She gazed resentfully after the retreating boatman, observing that he made far greater speed than on the trip out to the yacht. Not for a moment did she believe he had mistaken her order to wait.

She consoled herself with the thought that she would have him arrested for carrying away her luggage. However, unobserved by her, the boatman had brought the suitcase aboard. She saw it on the deck as she turned around.

“He came aboard quickly enough when he wanted to!” she exclaimed. “I wonder why he ran away? Perhaps he had a suspicion that something was wrong here.”

She recalled his reluctance to rent his boat and his unwillingness to make the trip to The Flora. Having taken an instant dislike to him, she decided without further consideration, that he was a questionable character and would bear investigation. She determined to speak of him when she acquainted the authorities with the situation as she had found it aboard the yacht.

For the present, her one desire was to reach shore as quickly as possible. She gazed anxiously about for help. Several small boats were plying in and out of the harbor, but they were too far away to be of aid. As if by a preconceived plan, they kept beyond hailing distance.

“It looks as though I’ll be here for some time,” Madge commented inwardly. “Oh, dear, and it’s so important that I notify the police without delay. Something dreadful may have happened to Enid and her father.”

Since it availed her nothing to stand helplessly by the railing, she decided to look about the ship more carefully and see if she could make further discoveries. It was difficult for her to believe that the yacht had been entirely abandoned.

After visiting the kitchen and the lounge, she noticed a second cabin not far from the one occupied by Mr. Burnett. The door was unlocked and she entered, half expecting to find everything in disorder.

She found herself in Enid’s room. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Toilet articles were neatly arranged on the dressing table, and in opening a closet door, Madge saw a long line of pretty frocks. An empty traveling bag occupied the shelf above.

“Enid couldn’t have gone away for the weekend or she would have taken her things,” she reasoned.

Only the bed gave evidence that the room had been occupied within the past twenty-four hours. The sheets were wrinkled and the blankets lay upon the floor, as though the occupant had tossed them hurriedly aside upon arising.

“It’s beyond me,” Madge mused. “Evidently, Enid slept here last night—or at least a portion of the night, but Mr. Burnett didn’t.”

In her mind, the conviction was steadily growing that her friends had met with violence. She had read that robberies were not an infrequent occurrence aboard luxurious yachts, and Mr. Burnett was known to have valuables and art treasures in his possession.

Sorely troubled, she returned to the upper deck to watch for a boat, but as there was none close by, she wandered restlessly about.

“It’s odd what became of all the sailors,” she thought. “Surely someone would be here to tell the story, even