as a soft and sudden breeze stirred the curtains. “If they ain’t in pretty quick they’ll get wet. There’s somebody now!” 

 A tramp of feet clumped on the porch, the door was thrown open and a young man limped in. He was tall, almost as tall as Dick Colton, but much slenderer, and extremely dark. Despite his unsteady gait, he bore himself with an inimitably buoyant and jocund carriage. His well-made riding-suit was muddied and torn, his head was bare, and from a long but shallow cut on his forehead blood had trickled down one side of his handsome face, giving him an appearance of almost theatrical rakishness. 

 “Hello, Dick, old man!” he cried. “How goes the quest for slumber?” 

 “Good Lord, Ev!” responded Dick Colton, hurrying to meet him. “What’s the matter with you? Are you hurt?” 

 Keenly watching the greeting, Haynes noted the evident and open affection between the two brothers. 

 “Just a twisted knee,” said the younger. “Thrown, Dick—thrown like a riding-school novice. I’d hate to have it get back to the troop.” 

 “It must have been something extraordinary to get you out of the saddle,” said Dick, for Everard Colton was one of the best of the younger polo men. 

 “It was extraordinary enough, all right,” acquiesced the younger man, “Let me clean up and I’ll tell you about it.” 

 “Wait a moment,” said Dick Colton, and introduced his brother to the other men. “Several queer things have been happening here lately,” he continued. “We’re all interested in them, particularly Mr. Haynes. Tell us now—unless you’re in pain,” added Dick anxiously. “Let’s look at your knee.” 

 “Oh, that’s nothing. I’m not suffering any except in my temper. Things I don’t understand disturb my judicial poise.” 

 “Did your horse roll into one of the gullies?” asked Haynes. “There are some nasty slides if you get off the road.” 

 “No, my horse didn’t; but I did,” replied the other. “The Professor of Prevarication who keeps the Amagansett livery stable told me that the mare knew the road. If she did know it, she carefully concealed her knowledge, for as soon as the pitch darkness fell (by the way, I don’t remember a blacker night) she began to stroll across the verdant meads like a man chewing a straw and thinking of his troubles. Except for the sound of the surf, I 

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