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He stood for a minute, astonished, for the whistle was that of

the steamer Grande Mignon, that daily plied between the island

and the mainland. Now the vessel lay at her dock and Code, as

well as all the island, knew that her wild signaling at such an

hour foreboded some dire calamity.

Swiftly buttoning his coat, he started on a run down the winding,

rocky path that led from Mallaby House. He cast one more glance

toward the roofs of the village before he plunged among the pine

and tamarack, and in that instant caught a red glow from the

general direction of the fish wharfs.

CHAPTER II

THE RED PERIL

Five minutes of plunging and slipping brought him down to the

main road that gleamed a dim gray in the blackness. A quarter of

a mile east lay the wharfs, the general store, and some of the

best dwellings in Freekirk Head.