Wearied by momentary eagerness, Wendell sat down upon the box that he had opened and grinned as he looked at Harry. The Shadow’s agent joined in the smile.
“That door must have been loose,” declared Wendell. “Bizzup must have opened it. He found this place, and stowed the stuff. Then he nailed the door up tight. Say, Vincent — you’ll get plenty of credit for this — and your share of the reward for finding the dough.”
A pause; then Wendell arose and managed to raise one end of the box.
“Heavy,” he remarked. “Probably some gold in it. The two of us can heft it. Come along — we’ll take this box, and then return for the other. We’ll tote the whole works up to the plantation. Say — this will be a surprise for Levis!”
Harry responded. The two men managed the box and carried it well along the passage that led back to the River Queen. They left the box near the boat, and returned for the second. It was as heavy as the first. Both were panting when they completed the new journey.
“Get the boxes into the motor boat,” said Wendell. “Here — we’ll lug them around the boiler room. I’ll be ready to leave from the deck when you have the boat. Where is it?”
“Down by the bow,” said Harry.
The pair manipulated the boxes one by one. They brought the treasure chests to the narrow deck on the upper side of the boiler room. The lantern was out. Harry groped his way through darkness to the upper deck, and found the motor boat.
AS he slid the boat along the side of the derelict, Harry felt a sensation of strange freedom in the coolness of the night air. His past experiences, short though they had been, seemed unbelievable. Wendell had given him credit for a smart discovery. Harry knew that The Shadow had been there before.
In fact, Harry had a good inkling of what The Shadow had originally intended. He did not know that the shrewd master of deduction had located the layer of cave rock by means of an aerial photograph. But he did know that The Shadow must have found the cavern previous to this night.
He knew that The Shadow had summoned him here to aid in the removal of the wealth before the crooks could find it. The Shadow had needed the motor boat; he had required Harry on watch so that he could safely explore the depths of the treasure cave.
Harry had failed; but The Shadow had rectified matters. Returning to the door which he had wisely closed, The Shadow had seen the light of Wendell’s lantern, and had observed his agent in trouble. The Shadow had turned the tables. Learning that Wendell represented the law, the master had let Harry aid the investigator.
Instead of stolen wealth reappearing in a mysterious way, it would be brought back by a man who had set forth to seek it. Such was The Shadow’s method. He let such men as Harvey Wendell get the credit that they deserved for honest effort.
Harry was aiding Wendell. Together they were frustrating evil men who dwelt upon the isle of doubt.
Harry smiled triumphantly as he brought the motor boat against the little rowboat that Harvey Wendell had previously moored amidships.
A whispered voice came from above. Wendell was signaling. Harry responded softly.
“Ready?” questioned Wendell.
Harry reached up and felt the bulk of the first box. He gave a grunt of assent. The box came over the edge. Harry eased it into the motor boat. The second box followed. Wendell joined The Shadow’s agent.
“Wait a minute,” the investigator said. “I’ll hitch the rowboat to the stern.” That job done, Harry and Wendell worked with the oars, and pushed the motor boat through the muck of the swamp water, until they reached the deeper section of the cut-off. Caught by a slow current, both boats drifted downstream.
“No noise,” said Wendell quietly. “We’ve been close to the island all along. Wait until we’re below it, then we’ll start the motor and head up the main channel.”
All was silent. The derelict lay almost invisible against the bulk of the isle of doubt. To Wendell, that old ship meant nothing now. But to Harry Vincent, the River Queen was still a place of mystery. For on that old steamship, Harry was sure, remained the presence of a weird personage to whom belonged all credit for tonight’s success.
HARRY was right. The Shadow was still upon the derelict. Invisible upon the bow of the old boat, his sinister form was a motionless object. Eyes that shone even in the darkness were scanning the cut-off as though they could see the progress of the two adventurers.
A soft laugh sighed from the spot. Its tones were caught by the solemn hush of the silent river. The Shadow moved noiselessly across the deck. His tall form glided over the side and entered the rubber boat, which was moored to a spot near the bow — toward the island.
Harry Vincent and Harvey Wendell had departed in the boats which they had used to make their separate visits. It was The Shadow’s turn. The rubber boat moved easily among the reeds, and glided to the edge of the swampy water.
Swift but guarded strokes of the broad-bladed paddle made no ripples in the water as The Shadow’s strange craft moved out into the blackened stream. Another laugh — soft but weird. That sinister sound came from absolute darkness.
The Shadow had turned the tide of events tonight. The stolen wealth had been recovered. Harry Vincent, The Shadow’s secret agent, was aiding Harvey Wendell, who represented the law. To all events, this turn had brought an end to the adventure.
The tribe of crooks still remained upon the island. The law would soon be loosed upon them. Yet The Shadow, ever wise, had not yet ceased his vigilance.
Until all scores had been settled, The Shadow would remain in this vicinity — ever watchful in the cause of law and justice.
CHAPTER XVIII. OTHER VISITORS
“WHAT’S that?”
The question came from Zach Telvin. Crouched beneath a tree near the lower end of the island, the escaped convict was listening to a vague sound from the river. The noise became more evident.
“It’s a motor boat,” declared Possum Quill. “Lay easy, Zach. If anybody’s snooping around this island, Lefty will spot them up by the house.”
“Listen Possum.” Zach spoke seriously in the darkness. “That motor just started, down below the island. I don’t like it.”
“Crawl down to the bank then, and look things over if you want to.”
“That’s what I’m going to do,” Zach replied.
Zach pushed his way through a thickness of saplings, leaving Possum chuckling at his companion’s trepidation. The sound of the motor was more apparent. Possum could place it. The boat was coming up the main channel of the Mississippi, swinging wide of the island, according to the sound.
The chugging retained its intensity. Then it began to die away as the boat followed the river up beyond the island. Possum heard Zach pushing through the small trees. He spoke in a low voice, and heard the convict’s growl.
“Satisfied?” questioned Possum. “The motor boat never stopped, did it?”
“Not here,” returned Zach, “but I’m leery of it just the same.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you why. That boat was drifting down the river, Possum. It wasn’t going down the main stream, either. When the motor started — as near as I can figure — the boat was over toward the shore that’s close to us.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you what it means.” Possum’s voice was tense. “I’ve got a hunch, Zach. I know where that boat came from. I know what it was doing around this island.”
“It probably came from the plantation up the river.”