For his pains, he bumped his head on the half-closed hatch-cover, and
for answer to his call heard--nothing. With another cry of "Betty!" he
leaped upon deck.
There was no Betty. In a quiet inlet the _Wisp_ was lying alongside a
float connected by a plank to a pebbly beach. A tongue of land separated
the harbor from the outer ocean. At a little distance on this sandy
tract appeared a straggling group of houses, and anchored near the
_Wisp_ was a steam yacht, a pretty craft all white and gold.
All this he took in at a glance. A second disclosed a note pinned to the
hatch-cover. He had it open in short order.