that looped themselves like pythons from limb to limb, and from whose
green masses blazing red flowers appeared at intervals like watchful
eyes. Scarlet hibiscus and perfumed frangipanni were everywhere, while
climbing jasmine tried to cover up the black basalt rocks in the
foreground as if to hide everything that was ugly from the eyes of the
visitor. The sweet, intoxicating odours came out to us in greeting, yet
the place seemed to inspire us with a feeling of awe and mystery that
became more oppressive as the yacht moved lazily across the bay.

I glanced at Edith Herndon at the moment the anchor plunged down into
the bed of coral, and the look of perplexed wonder upon her face
startled me.

"It looks a nice place, yet it feels an awful spot," she murmured. "All
those snaky creepers with their coloured flowers seem to be hiding
something."

I understood her feelings regarding the place. That look of weird
expectancy, common to places that are cloaked with a tremendous silence,
had gripped the two girls, and the yacht seemed homelike when they
compared it to the shore.

"Oh, Edith," cried the younger sister, "I wish father wouldn't go!"

"So do I, dear," murmured the elder girl, "but it is useless to attempt
to persuade him to give up the quest."

"But I hate the place!" cried Miss Barbara. "Don't you?"

"Oh, no," stammered Edith, bravely attempting to cheer the spirits of