The girl looked at him in a half-startled way, while Peggy, as she said afterward, felt as if she was watching a drama.

“Yes,” she said; “why?”

“Because,” said the island dweller slowly, “because I once knew someone called Regina who was very dear to me.”

“Come on,” called Fanning from outside, “we’ve got to win this race back.”

The girl lingered hesitatingly an instant and the next moment was gone.

“The fog is lifting,” said Peggy, “we must be going, too.  Come along Jess.  Come on, Jimsy, we don’t want to let the Mortlake craft beat us at the eleventh hour.”

“What name was that you just mentioned?” asked the man of the island, quickly.  He was bending forward eagerly, as if to catch the answer.

“Do you mean Mortlake?”

“Yes, that’s the name.  What of him?  Do you know him?”

The man’s eyes gleamed brightly.  He seemed to be much excited.  Peggy answered him calmly, although she felt as if some sort of a life tragedy was working out to swift conclusion.

“Of course, Mr. Eugene Mortlake is the man who is manufacturing the Mortlake aeroplane.  He is our chief rival.  That’s the reason we must hurry off.”

“Why, did they?” the man nodded his head in the direction in which Fanning and Regina had vanished, “did they come in a Mortlake aeroplane?”

“Yes,” said Peggy, “didn’t you know?  That girl is Mr. Mortlake’s daughter, Regina Mortlake.”

The man gave a terrible cry and reeled backward.  Jimsy stepped forward quickly and caught him.  For an instant they thought their host was going to swoon.  But he quickly recovered.

“Good heavens,” he cried, “Eugene Mortlake is here.  Close at hand?”

“He is in Hampton—­why?”

“I must see him as soon as possible.  No, I can explain nothing now.  But I must see him.”

The man’s manner showed that he was terribly in earnest.  He seemed almost carried away by excitement.  Outside came suddenly a whirring sound.

“Fanning is starting his engine,” exclaimed Jimsy; “we must hurry.”

“Will you do something for me—­will you aid a miserable outcast to right a great wrong?” pleaded the ragged man who faced them.

“What can we do for you?” asked Jimsy.

“Take me back to Hampton in your aeroplane.  I must see Mortlake at once.  It is imperative I tell you.  See, I am not poor, although I appear so.”

In two strides the man had crossed the room and lifting a board in the floor he drew forth bag after bag.  The seams of some of them were rotten.  Under the sudden strain they broke and streams of gold coin trickled out upon the floor.

“Years ago when I was first an exile here,” said the man, “a Spanish ship came ashore one stormy night.  Not a soul of her crew was saved.  I found this money in the wreck.  I will give you half of it if you will take me to Hampton with you.  The other half I must keep till—­till I learn from Mortlake’s lips the secret he holds.”