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.
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