'No, Master Reggie--no, Miss Marjorie; do not be touching anything,' said Mrs. MacAlister hurriedly, as they approached the shattered letter-box; 'it hass all to remain as it iss until the chief constable and the laird hev seen it; and they will be bringing the Sheriff from Stornwell; it iss an unlucky day for a poor woman like me, whateffer.' 'It's a dreadful thing,' said Marjorie; 'I hope they'll catch the thief, Mrs. MacAlister.' Mr. Stewart, accompanied by the stranger and the island constable, was approaching the door, so the young people trooped out into the street, feeling greatly excited. 'Who do you think has done it, Allan?' asked Tricksy in an awestruck voice. Allan did not answer, and Reggie said, 'How can he tell, Tricksy?' somewhat curtly. Tricksy subsided, and a cart laden with peats coming by, Allan stopped the driver and asked him to give them a 'lift.' The man helped Tricksy into the cart, and the others scrambled in the best way they could, and settled themselves among the peats. 'It's a dreadful business this,' said Marjorie, her eyes shining brighter and bluer with excitement. 'I don't believe such a thing has ever happened with us before,' said Allan; 'our people have always had the credit of being very honest.' 'Who can it have been?' said Hamish, after considering for a minute. 'I can't believe that any of our people would have done it.' 'There will be no end of a row,' said Reggie, speaking for the first time. 'Father will have his work cut out for him, as he is a J.P. now.' 'Yes, and the Sheriff coming here, and everything,' said Marjorie. 'How will you like to meet your friend the Sheriff again, Tricksy?' There was no reply. Tricksy had fallen asleep among the peats, her head pillowed upon her arm, and her soft, dark waves of hair falling over her face. The others began to realise how sleepy they were, after having risen before sunrise and spent several hours in the strong sea air, and in spite of excitement, conversation languished while the cart jolted along and finally halted at the gates of Ardnavoir, the manor-house of the island of Inchkerra. CHAPTER II THE PIRATES' DEN 'Neil, old fellow,' Allan was saying, 'I wonder how much longer these people are going to keep us waiting.' The two were in a boat that was bobbing up and down upon the waves. The shore close by was low and sandy, with some seaweed-covered stones forming a convenient landing-place. On one side the bay swept round in a curve ending in a rocky headland; and on the other arose low cliffs with brambles and sea-pinks growing in the crevices. A breeze was blowing shoreward; and the waves curled and broke upon the beach with a pleasant sound. 'Nothing more found out about the robbery yet, I suppose?' said Allan, after they had waited a little longer.