The launch bore us rapidly across to the catboat, and as we approached, I studied the faces of the man and the boy. They were simple folk, of evidently limited intelligence. Hardly had we come alongside, when I began my questions, and a strange story came in reply. Stripped of its vernacular and repetitions, this was the tale finally dragged from the man and boy, as we sailed towards the shore. They had started out in the early morning and had fished with some success. In the afternoon, they had seen a knockabout running free before the wind, with all sorts of strange action. The sail widespread, she turned and reared, started and checked, swung and circled. There was no sign of life on board that they could ascertain, and they made up their minds that the boat had either lost its occupants or had been driven offshore with its sail hoisted. On boarding, much to their surprise, they found a man, apparently a solitary fisherman, lying unconscious in the stern sheets. Throwing water over him roused him. He sat up and looked around, but with unseeing eyes. His lips quivered, and in a low whisper he began to speak. “Disappeared, disappeared, disappeared. Nothing real, nothing real.” Rising, he started to walk straight ahead, but struck the side and fell. His murmur now changed to a loud moan. “Disappeared, disappeared, disappeared. Nothing real, nothing real.” Again he tried to walk, but this time they caught him, bound him, and carried him to shore, to their house, where he went quietly enough to bed, with the unceasing moan. “Disappeared, disappeared, disappeared. Nothing real, nothing real,” rising and falling like the waves on the shore. The story had taken all the way in, and as we rowed towards shore, leaving the catboat and launch at the mooring where the knockabout lay, the night was swiftly shutting in. A light glimmered in a low house on the bluff. “That’s my house,” said the man, as we hastened towards it. A woman with a kindly face met us at the door. “Wife, these are some folks that are looking for the crazy man,” said our friend. “He’s fast asleep,” was the answer, “but you can go in and see him, if you want to.” My heart rose. The second step of my quest was in sight. “Tom,” I said quietly, “come along with me. Miss Haldane, will you remain here?” Dorothy nodded. Tom and I followed the woman as she passed down a narrow passage. Opening a rude door, she entered. In front of the bed, she stopped short and threw up her hands. “For the land’s sake,” she cried. “He’s gone!” Gone! The word echoed dismally in my brain. “Wait till I get a lamp,” said the woman, and she pattered nervously out.