"Then I won't waste another minute. Maybe you would like to go along?"
"I would," returned Mrs. Nelson, impelled by a fear she could not banish.
Franchard lost no time in towing the sloop back to the boat-house. Ten minutes later he and the widow were sailing up the lake as fast as the wind would carry them.
It was well on toward evening when the islands were reached.
"I'll give them a call if they are anywhere about," said Franchard, and he yelled many times at the top of his lungs.
No reply came back, and after sailing around for some time they came to anchor beside Three Top Island.
"If they landed anywhere, they landed here," said the boatman. "So as long as we are in the vicinity we may as well take a look around."
As luck would have it they had reached shore close to the bottom of the cliff. As they leaped on the rocks, Mrs. Nelson gave a start.
"What is it?" cried her companion, quickly.
"Oh, Mr. Franchard, look!" screamed the poor woman. "It is Ralph's fishing towel, and it has blood upon it!"