There was only one passenger missing, and the name of this one,
according to the purser's list, was Mah Retto. The name, though
peculiar, Larry thought, was not dissimilar to scores of others, for
the steamer had on board a cosmopolitan lot of passengers. No one
knew how Retto had been lost.

As Larry was on his way to the telegraph office a sudden thought
came to him.

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "The man who came ashore on the life-raft
is this missing Mah Retto. I'll just stop on my way to the telegraph
office and see him. That will clear it all up, and make every
passenger accounted for."

He hurried on, intending to get a hasty interview with the man at
Bailey's hut, and then go telegraph the rest of his story. The
fisherman was still down on the beach, aiding the life savers to
pack their apparatus for transportation back to the station. As
Larry came in sight of the cabin he saw the raft, on which the
stranger had come ashore, lying just beyond high-water mark.

He entered the hut, expecting to see Retto, as he had come to call
the foreigner, sitting comfortably by the fire. But the rescued man
was not there. Nor was he in the room where he had been put to bed.

"Maybe he's in the woodshed," thought Larry. "I'll take a look."

But he was not there.

"That's strange," Larry mused. "He's disappeared. There is something