Spencer Vance sprung to his feet, and stood and listened,
determined to have the drop on the other man in case of
danger, and not again get caught in the position he was when
the first smuggler called him to account.
The intruder passed on his way without having come upon our
hero and his gagged prisoner.
The detective stole after the man, but concluded he was merely
a resident of the island who passed by through chance.
Returning to his man Vance made sure that he could not release
himself, and then started down to the shore and moved along
the beach, hoping to come upon the smugglers engaged in the
unloading of their goods.
The detective traversed about four miles of coast when, far
ahead of him, he saw the glimmer of dancing lights.
"Aha!" he muttered, "I've got 'em!"
He spoke in an incautiously loud tone, when a man sprung
toward him.
The smugglers had put out sentinels, and our hero had run
across one of them.
The sentinel proved to be a resolute fellow, as he did not
stop to ask questions, but made a stroke at the detective's
head.
Our hero dodged the blow, and seized the fellow;
The man struggled violently, and made several attempts to sing
out an alarm, but he was in a grip of iron. The detective,
however, had no time to spare. He was an overmatch for the
smuggler, but at any, moment assistance might arrive. It was
silence the officer needed at that moment, and he buried the
fellow's head under water.
The poor fellow struggled violently, and it appeared a cruel
recourse, but our hero knew that the water would render the
man temporarily harmless. He did not mean to drown him.
The man's struggles finally ceased, when the detective raised
his head from the water.
The fellow was not dead, but his cries were stopped for the
time being--a water gag, as our hero termed it.
Vance left the man lying on the beach, and advanced more
cautiously. He had crossed the line and was in the charmed
circle.
Like an Indian on a trail he crawled forward, and, regardless
of peril, approached quite close to the working party.
Just above the water-line was a wall of rock, and built upon
the rock was a small house, and into this house the goods were
carried.
The detective saw that the house was not of sufficient
dimensions to hold all the goods that were carried in, and he
made up his mind at the proper time to make a survey of the
place and delve to the secret.
Nothing more was to be done that night. He had ascertained
all he desired. He had located the rendezvous and the
store-house; while on the yacht he had marked some of the goods,
so that he could identify them. He had trailed down the methods,
noted the active workers, and all that remained was for him to
get safely off the island and trace down to the backers.
He had taken long chances, but all his risks were amply
repaid by his wonderful success.
The detective, at the moment he decided to get away, was so
close to the working party that he could overhear what passed
between them, and while he watched he saw a figure glide into
their midst.
"The dead alive!" was the under-toned exclamation that fell
from his lips as he recognized the half-drowned man whom he
had so successfully overcome.
At once there followed great excitement. A consultation was
summoned. The man had evidently told his startling tale.
Our hero recognized Ike Denman, the traitor and falsifier,
captain of the "Nancy," and he heard Ike say:
"You are sure it was not one of the islanders?"
"I am sure. I tell you I recognized the man!"
"You recognized him?"
"Yes."
"Who was he?"
"Ballard!"
A murmur of incredulousness rose from the men, and Ike Denman
exclaimed:
"You have been fooled by your fancy; you have been dreaming!"
"No; I wasn't dreaming; I swear I saw Ballard, the man who
went overboard from the 'Nancy' twenty miles out at sea."
"I tell you, man, you have been dreaming."
The man pointed down to his wet clothes.
"Yes, you scoundrel, you fell asleep and rolled down the bank
into the water, and you saw a ghost in your dream."
"You fellows may think I saw a ghost, but I can prove I
didn't. Yes, sir, prove it."
"How?"
"Bring your lanterns and come with me."
"What will you show us?"
"The man's tracks in the sand at the spot where he and I had
the wrestle."
The man started for the point where our hero had first met the
smuggler; had the former been less bravo and reckless he would
have seized the opportunity to get away, but he was curious to
witness the result of the inquiry, and he moved along to the
spot where the combat had taken place, and took up a position
on the bluff near enough to see and overhear.
The men with their lanterns reached the place and an
examination followed.
The imprints of two pairs of feet were plainly visible.
Denman made close examination, even measuring the different
footprints; when he had concluded he said in a hoarse voice:
"Boys, we've been followed; there's an enemy on the island and
he must never get away alive!"
By the glare of the lanterns our hero could see the men's
faces, and they were pale and contorted with excitement and
trepidation.
"I reckon I'll go now," he said, "it's getting rather warm
around here."
The officer quietly moved away, while Denman divided his men
into several squads and started them on a hunt for the spy.
The master of the "Nancy" was completely mystified. He could
not understand how it was possible, under even the most
extraordinary circumstances, that Ballard could be alive and
upon the island. He supposed; as a matter of course, the
detective was dead, and yet his man had positively sworn as to
the revenue officer's identity.
"This is the most wonderful thing in all my experience!"
declared the master of the "Nancy," as alone he walked back
toward the landing-place of the boats.
Meantime the detective had reached a most extraordinary
determination. He saw that the chances were against him if he
sought to reach the boat in which he and Taylor had crossed
from the mainland; and yet it ways absolutely necessary that
he should have a boat. He reasoned that the smugglers would
scatter all over the island, and concluded that the safest
place for him was the starting-point of the searchers.
It required a cool, level-headed man to decide under all the
circumstances, and our hero was just the sort of man
described.