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“My brave, noble boy! at last! at last the clouds have a silver lining.”

The next evening, true to their promise, the guests of the yacht landed and strolled up to the mansion.

They gazed about them with interest, and Commodore Lucien remembered having heard something of the tragic history of “Spook Hall,” and told it to those with him.

Mark joined them, and this time each one grasped his hand.

He was dressed in his best sailor suit, for he wore nothing else at any time, and looked very handsome.

The grand parlor of the old mansion had been thrown open, and they were received there by Mrs. Merrill in a dignified manner.

But there was that about her face which prevented obtrusive questioning, and after half an hour all arose to go, impressed with the idea that some mystery hung about the Merrills which they were not willing to attempt to fathom.

The Secretary renewed his promise to Mark, and the lad volunteered his services to pilot the yacht out to sea, which he did, returning in his surf-skiff, which had been tossing astern.