I did feel a good deal hurt, however, when I went by the young person on my way to breakfast that she didn't seem to know me from the porter. I cursed civilization that makes Fate and girls cruel, and stayed away all day to show her I didn't even think of her. I really did think very little. I was canvassing the train for a treasure-troving male relative. I satisfied myself he was not aboard. But the thought of that unapproachable young woman robbed me somewhat of my gratification. When we reached Palm Beach I drove directly to the Royal Poinciana. I rather expected that the girl might be there, too, but I did not catch sight of her that evening, nor of any man that could possibly be Graham Stewart. In the romantic surroundings of the Poinciana the interest of my quest returned. Down there, the thought of buried treasure did not seem so strange. Before retiring I ordered a steam launch to take me to Lone Palm Key at nine o'clock the following morning. It was ten when I woke up. Hurriedly I dressed and breakfasted, but it was noon when I set out, first making an arrangement with the launch's engineer to do some digging for me when we reached the key. All my eagerness returned as we approached the long, low strip of land where poor old Uncle Abner lived so many years. A sloop, with idly flapping sails, lay at anchor near the little landing, telling me that in all probability my remote connection, Graham Stewart, had reached the key before me. I felt genuine excitement mingled with chagrin as we drew near. How long had he been there? Had he found the treasure? How would he receive me? My captain knew the captain of the "Jennie May," and hailed him as we came alongside. "What you doin' 'way out here, Cap'n Bill?" "Got a lady," Captain Bill replied. "She's over there beyond that sand dune, havin' a picnic all to herself. Didn't say she was _expectin'_ no one." He eyed me disapprovingly as he spoke. So it was not Graham Stewart after all! That was a relief, though I was sorry anyone was there. I should feel foolish digging for Uncle Abner's treasure if a gull watched me, let alone a girl! Leaving the engineer to anchor and follow later with the shovels we had brought, I jumped ashore and hastened up the low sand hill, above the top of which I saw the lone palm tree from which the key took its name. From the top I could see old Uncle Abner's shack perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Then my eye was arrested by a white figure near the deserted little house. It was the figure of a woman, and horrors! she was digging in the sand. I hastened on and presently came up with her. Her back was turned. She did not see me as I stood for a moment, amused, watching her pathetic efforts with a funny little shovel, such as is used for putting coals in kitchen ranges. She was working in a desultory way that plainly showed discouragement. "Can I help?" I said to her at last.