Melanie was instantly aroused.  “Oh, I had an uncanny feeling when you first mentioned the Jeanne D’Arc!” she cried.  “But could you not find out more?  What became of the man that was marooned?”

“He got off the island a day or two ago,” said Aleck.  “The people that brought provisions to the old man took him to the mainland, to Charlesport.”

“The beggar left without so much as thanking the old man for his eggs,” added Chamberlain.

“We’ll put into Charlesport to-night, if you don’t mind,” said Aleck.  “If I can find the man that was marooned, I may be able to learn something about Jim, if he really was on the yacht.  You can all go ashore, if you like.  There’s a big summer hotel near by, and it’s a lovely country.”

“We’ll stay wherever it’s most convenient for you to have us,” said Melanie, looking at Aleck; for once, with more than a friendly interest in her eyes.

“And perhaps I can help you, Van; two heads, you know,” said Chamberlain.

Aleck, troubled as he was, could not help being grateful to his friends.  So the Sea Gull, turned suddenly from her holiday mood, headed into the harbor of Charlesport.

The village still rang, if so staid a community could be said to ring, with reports of the event of the week before.  Doctor Thayer had been sphinx-like, and Little Simon had been imaginative and voluble; and it would have been difficult to say which had teased the popular curiosity the more.  Aleck found a tale ready for his ears about the launch and its three passengers, with many conflicting details.  Some said that a great singer had been wrecked off Ram’s Head, others that it was the captain and mate of the Jeanne D’Arc, others that it was a daughter of old Parson Thayer’s sweetheart and two sailors that came ashore.  Little or nothing was known about the island castaway.  Aleck followed the only clue he could find, thinking to get at least some inkling of the truth.

CHAPTER XIII

ALECK SEES A GHOST

Little Simon drove leisurely up the long, rugged hill over which Agatha and James had so recently traveled, and drew rein in the shade at a distance of a long city block from his destination.  He pointed with his whip while he addressed Aleck, his sole passenger.

“Yonder’s the old red house, Mister.  The parson, he hated to have his trees gnawed, and Major here’s a great horse for gnawing the bark offer trees.  So I never go no nearer the house than this.”

“All right, Simon; you wait for me here.”

Aleck walked slowly along the country road, enjoying the fragrant fields, the quiet beauty of the place.  It was still early in the day, for he had lost no time in following the clues gathered from the village as to the survivors of the Jeanne D’Arc.  The air was fresh and clean, with a tang of the distant salt marshes.