The item that met my eye was not a large one; the bit of news was not featured; but it held me. This is what I saw: “WIRELESS FROM MONTAUK. “A message received late last night reports a strange happening off Montauk Point yesterday during a short, but fierce, squall. “At the very instant when the operator at the point was trying to get into communication with a trim, black schooner that carried the apparatus, the wind caught her full; she heeled sharply; then the fog, which had held the whole day, once more descended. But there came another sudden rift in the mist when the craft was again sighted. This time it was only her hull, for both masts, in the interval, had been carried away clean to the deck. Then once more the fog descended. No hint of her identity or present whereabouts is known.” That was all, but I shoved the paper quickly into my jacket pocket before the girl returned from the water, where she had been filling our kettle. CHAPTER XVII. THE DAILY PAPERS. Just what prompted me to be at such pains to conceal the news item, I am at a loss to say. Perhaps it was some premonition. At all events, I argued that it would be better to think over the thing a bit before I did anything. Of course, the circumstance might amount to absolutely nothing. I took good pains, however, not to let any of my indecision or abstraction show, and our delightful little tête-à-tête picnic ended as light-heartedly and happily as it had begun. And just about sundown it was a very tired little girl, indeed, that insisted upon doing her share of paddling in the bow of the canoe. Reaching the schooner’s deck, I was astonished to see what order had already begun to show among the former tangle of wreckage. All standing and running rigging had been carefully overhauled, coiled, and tagged. The decks were pretty clear, and what clutter there was was well-ordered. Stroth met us jovially at the ladder. “Well, girlie, a good day?” “Oh, fine, daddy, and----” here she stifled a healthy bit of a yawn. “Oh, I’m so sleepy!” “Nothing like the open, eh, Grey?” said he genially. “Nothing,” I echoed, then added: “Nothing for sleep like it, unless it’s tiresome company.” It was cheap, and I regretted it, even before I caught her look; but, come to think of it, the look compensated. “Then off to bed with you, honey!” cried her father. “Bed? Now? Why, we haven’t even had supper.” “Well, I think it would be better, don’t you? I’ll send in Saki to you with your meal, and you can tumble right in. You must remember, dear, we’ve been through some happenings since----” She broke into the argument with a happy laugh. Then she kissed him, gave me a nod, and left us. I watched her from sight, then turned to Stroth’s chuckle, as he queried: “A pretty good showing for one day, isn’t it?” He indicated the decks with a sweep of his right hand. Over his left shoulder was slung a camera.