Four hours later an Inspector from the mainland passing to the island light-house was hailed by the Captain of a brig which had weathered the storm, and come to anchor for repairs.
"What ails the tower light, sir?" he asked of the officer, nodding toward the beacon, through the transparencies of which a steady stream of light was still pouring, though the sun was doing his best to dim its glory.
The Inspector frowned. "I only know that the keeper's neglecting his duty."
The sailor shook his head. "Something more's amiss, I'm thinking. The light come near playing us a jack-o'-lantern trick just before day. She put on her night-cap all of a sudden, and 'twas like the pole-star had let loose o' the compass needle. A little more'n we'd 'a dashed upon the reefs, only she waked up and showed us her shiners. And not a wink has she took since. Somewhat's wrong. Cap'n Dutton's been prompt as the sun this twenty year."
"Captain Dutton? Is't Captain Kyle Dutton that's keeper of the light-house yonder?" asked one of the brig's passengers, starting forward, excitedly.
"Yes, Kyle Dutton. He's a queer chap, but he ain't the fellow to shirk duty."
In a moment the stranger had asked to be put ashore.
The landing was effected with little risk, but those of the boat's crew who ascended the cliff and sought entrance to the tower found themselves baffled. The ladder was gone, the iron door barred, and all their pounding awoke no response other than muffled echoes from the interior.
"We may get in through a window," said the Inspector. "Hodges, fetch the boat-hook."