The detective was keenly interested at once.
"Were you old enough to consider her remark seriously?"
"Yes; I formed an idea as to her meaning."
"What was your idea?"
"She alluded to the resurrection of the dead. She was what
they called a Millerite."
"Yes; I have heard of those people--a strange sect, who
believed the world was coming to an end about every three
months. So you thought she alluded to the resurrection?"
"Yes."
"Did she visit her son's grave often?"
"No."
"Did you ever notice that her mind took any particular line of
thought after these visits?"
"No."
The detective was thoughtful a moment, but his meditations
were rudely disturbed by the reappearance of the boy Tommy.
The little fellow had been running hard, and was almost
breathless as he called to Renie: "Come quick! I've something
to tell you."
The girl stepped aside with the lad, when the latter laid:
"They're coming for him."
"For whom?"
"That man."
The lad, pointed toward the detective.
"Who is coming?"
"The crew of the 'Nancy.' They're all wild drunk, and they're
sure to try to hurt him."
"How do they know he is here?"
"Someone ran in the tavern and told 'em."
"Who was it?"
"I don't know. I was down there 'laying around' on the watch,
when a man ran in and whispered something to the big mate, and
then the men all took a 'stiff tin' and with oaths and curses
started to go to your daddy's cabin. I ran ahead of them to
warn you."
"They will not harm me."
"No, but they are after him sure!" again the lad pointed
toward the detective.
"All right, Tommy, you go and watch them, we'll look out."
Renie returned to where the detective stood, and said:
"Come with me, we've not a moment to spare."
"What's the matter now?"
"The gang have learned that you are still on the coast; they
are all mad drunk, and they're coming for you!"
"Which way are the men coming?"
"They are going to my father's cabin, and if they do not find
you there they will commence a search for you; they're all mad
with liquor, and should they find you, no power on earth can
save you!"
"Nonsense! they cannot harm me. I only fear for you; and now
listen, I've other work around here beyond the duty of
breaking up the gang of smugglers. I'm going to solve the
mystery of your life, fathom the secret of Betsy Pearce, and
mark my, words, I'll succeed!"
"Oh, do not remain here to-night! listen, they are almost upon
us! fly with me! I can place you in a hiding-place!"
"If I lose my life to-night, it will be your fault, Renie."
"My fault?"
"Yes."
"How so?"
"Because you will not do as I say."
"What shall I do?"
"Go to your father's cabin, and deny any knowledge of me."
"You demand that I shall leave you?"
"Yes."
"I go at your command!"
The girl glided away.
Meantime the detective heard loud voices and signs of intense
excitement over at the boatman's cabin, which was not more
than six hundred feet distant from where the detective and
Renie stood, while the conversation which we have repeated was
in progress.
Strange feelings were raging in the detective's bosom at that
moment. He had known the beautiful barefooted girl but a few
hours, and he had come to feel more interest in her than he
had ever cherished for any other human being since the day he
had laid his widowed mother to rest in the church-yard.
When he had first glanced at the girl under the exciting
circumstances of that truly eventful night, he had considered
her a rustic beauty, handsome, but ignorant; but alas! a
better knowledge of her taught him that she was a refined and
educated girl, despite the fact of the bare feet, her unkempt
hair, and long residence among the fishermen and smugglers of
the coast.
She was a true child of romance, a wonderful prodigy of a
strange and weird fate, and he could not but picture to
himself what a ravishingly lovely creature she would be under
different auspices; and he wondered not that the Cuban
villain, Garcia, was anxious to secure possession of her.
The detective quickly thought over the whole matter. He
discerned the Cuban's purpose; the man meant to take the girl
to Cuba, perchance, to make her his wife, and why not? She
was beautiful, and there was a possibility that she might
develop into a great heiress.
The detective, however, did not have much time to meditate on
his strange meeting with the girl and the stranger incidents
that followed that meeting. He was warned that it was
necessary for him to take measures for the safety of his life.
Spencer Vane was a thoroughly experienced detective. He was
no tyro at the business, and he was up to all the tricks and
devices of the modern science of criminal detection. He was
as good at the art of disguise as any in the profession, and
it was his skill in the latter particular which make him so
indifferent as to the approach of the gang of madly drunken
smugglers.
Our hero walked over behind a high sand drift, and in a few
minutes had worked a most startling and extraordinary
"transform;" no living man, unless posted as to his disguise,
could ever have recognised in the dark-faced, rough-looking
man who issued from behind the drift, the same light-haired,
dashing-looking fellow who had a moment before disappeared
behind it.