Alfred Thornton was not a high-minded youth. He was often dishonorable and unscrupulous in his dealings with men, but he thoroughly disliked the hateful task ahead of him. Yet he moved doggedly toward it. He must save his own and his father's reputation, perhaps his fortune! There was no reason for him to believe that Flora Harris would spare him unless he did what she had demanded. He had that evening seen how far the spirit of revenge could lead her. While Alfred Thornton was on his way to the houseboat Tom Curtis lay awake on his camp cot thinking of Madge and of what he could do to disprove the cruel story that Flora Harris had told. Of course, it must be false. Yet the girl would hardly have dared to tell such a tale unless a grain of truth had been hidden in it somewhere. Poor Madge! Tom wondered how her proud, passionate spirit would bear up under the shadow of such a sorrow. In the meantime Alfred Thornton brought his launch in to the shore. He landed about a mile below the houseboat. The "Merry Maid" was anchored near a point of land known as Wayside Point. Alfred left his shoes in his launch, walking up the beach in his stocking feet. He waded in the water the greater part of the time, so as not to leave the imprint of his feet in the sand. A storm was blowing in from the ocean. The singing sound of the wind came over the face of the waters. Alfred knew that the night was working with him. If he could accomplish his secret design without being discovered in the act, the houseboat party and their friends would believe that the houseboat had been torn from her moorings by the force of the September gale. He reached the neighborhood of the boat without meeting any one. It was an ideal night for prowling along the beach. The "Merry Maid" lay quietly at anchor, although the waves were beginning to lash against her sides with more than their accustomed energy. The youth was guided toward her by the golden lights that shone through the yellow lamps outside her cabin.