Matters were shaping better than The Shadow had anticipated. To-morrow night offered a double opportunity. There would be more than Scorpio's reputation as a spook-maker at stake. Crime, too, would be a prospect.
The mystery of previous robberies, the riddle of the lake monster, even the recovery of vanished wealth-all would be possible. More was at stake than the mere exposure of a faker. The Shadow could foresee the trapping of a master crook!
There was a knowing glint in the steely eyes of The Shadow as they gazed back toward Scorpio's distant Castle, a mere blotch of gray amid the trees.
CHAPTER XII. LURKERS BY NIGHT.
THAT afternoon, Lamont Cranston and Harry Vincent took a trip around the lake in a trim speedboat that Harry had obtained at the Community Center. As they rode along, Harry repeated some details that he had heard at the community house.
The sheriff had heard from Los Angeles. The police there had gained no clue to the poisoned cigarettes given Drury. They were sure that it must have been planted in the aviator's pocket before he left Lake Calada.
There were details, too, regarding previous robberies, and all indicated that crimes had occurred at Lake Calada, not elsewhere.
Gillespie's secretary, a man named Tudor, was to be released, exonerated of any blame in the bond theft.
The Jamison paintings had been shipped to the lake intact; therefore, could not have been stolen beforehand. A thorough check-up proved that the Albion statuettes could not have been removed in transit after they left Lake Calada.
Such reports had not caused surprise. The robbery of the Lodi jewels, done in the presence of half the Calada colony, had convinced everyone that previous crimes were local.
Reviewing the meager facts, The Shadow decided that Harry was to go to Los Angeles, to contact Tudor and bring him back to Lake Calada, in case the exonerated secretary might prove valuable tomorrow. He told Harry to take the evening taxi plane for Los Angeles.
It was nearly dusk when The Shadow swung the boat through a channel by an island, leading into Indian Cove. Rounding a bend, they saw Indian Rock, an imposing shaft of granite, a miniature edition of the monumental rocks that could be viewed in Yosemite Park.
Rising a sheer two hundred feet, Indian Rock was precipitous on both sides; but it was marked with noticeable flaws. Among those regular fissures, Harry saw one crack that spread like a crude arch at the water's edge, but it was too low for the boat to pass.
Besides, the base of the rock looked unreachable, due to jagged chunks of stone that studded the water.
Those barring points of rock had evidently broken from the crag in some past age.
As they headed out from the cove, The Shadow slowed the boat, to study Denwood's chart. Harry noticed that it was less of a maze than before. The Shadow had marked it with his own observation lines, erasing some of the more doubtful ones.
By a system of triangulation, he had picked the area near Indian Cove as the probable destination of the curious lake monster. Having seen that craft's course twice, The Shadow had narrowed down his quest.
There was another cove, however, that adjoined this one, past a jut of land called Piny Head. It was also in the area picked by The Shadow, and the cove furnished a landing to the old Pioneer Mine.
The Shadow swung into the cove, let the boat chug up to the remains of an old burned wharf. Gloom here was heavy; Harry, scrambling on the wharf to tie the boat, did not sense the stir about him.
Of a sudden, he was prodded with gun muzzles. He saw the bristling rifle barrels, determined faces behind him. Voices were ordering him to "put them up"; and he heard one calclass="underline" "We've got him!"
Harry let his hands go up. His right came from his hip, bringing an automatic, as he wheeled away from the rifles. There was a crackle from one rifle: an answering shot from Harry's automatic. But not a bullet took effect!
The long-barreled guns were being knocked aside. Harry, as he fired, received a side-arm blow that sent his shot wide. The sweep carried him backward into the boat. On the wharf, he could see three men sprawling, their rifles clattering the charred timbers, as they succumbed to the barehanded punches of a lone attacker.
The Shadow!
He had leaped from the boat at the instant of the conflict, and was taking control as Cranston. One rifleman went splashing into the water; another landed headlong, into the boat with Harry. The third, shaken to his senses by hands that collared him, recognized the face of his shaker and gulped to the others:
"It's Mr. Cranston!"
THESE were the sheriff's deputies, on hunt for Barcla and missing servants like Horace and Rufus. They had mistaken Harry for Barcla, thinking that the missing crook had chosen this secluded landing spot. The Shadow's skill at breaking up a fight had proven as useful as his ability in prolonged battle.
His swift and timely intervention had saved Harry's life, along with one or more of the deputies.
More men arrived, the sheriff among them. Congratulations were promptly given Cranston for halting mistaken battle. The sheriff had come to search the old Pioneer Mine, in case Barcla was using it as a hideaway. He invited the newcomers to join the party. Cranston accepted; but Harry had to leave, in order to catch his plane.
Alone in the boat, Harry idled the motor as he neared the site of Rundon's cabin, which was on the way to the end of the lake. He wanted to see what had been done with the wrecked craft belonging to Denwood; workmen had been sent to lift it from the rocks today.
Harry chose Rundon's rickety dock as a landmark and cut in close to it. Something he saw made him cut off the motor and glide to a stop.
Another boat was tied to Rundon's pier; it was Scorpio's speedster!
For the moment, Harry thought that Lois had come here; then he remembered that the girl had returned the borrowed boat to Scorpio. Stepping ashore, Harry saw a light glimmering from Rundon's cabin and crept close. Through a crack where a draped blanket failed cover the window edge, he looked in on two men: Professor Scorpio and Edward Barcla.
It was clever, those two meeting here. Probably Scorpio deserved credit for the idea; but Barcla gained the chief benefit. The missing crook was using Rundon's cabin as his hide-out, and had chosen a perfect spot.
With Rundon abducted, there was no reason for anyone to come here. It was the last place where the sheriff would look for Barcla. Scorpio, a master at the art of alibi, considered it safer to visit Barcla than have the wanted man visit him.
Scorpio was opening a wrapped package. Harry saw bundled cheesecloth, a wire mask. There were bottles that looked as though they contained paint; a box that appeared to be a make-up kit. Harry could hear Scorpio's words, purring and reassuring:
"It will be easy, Barcla. Less risky than staying here. The séance will square me, and give them so much to think about, they will forget you. It will be the biggest thing we've staged."
Barcla's negative headshakes lessened. He turned to a table, picked up a photograph of Niles Rundon and stared at it.
"But if Rundon ever comes back-"
"He won't," interposed Scorpio, in confident tone. "If we put this over one hundred percent, we can keep Rundon right where he is. I'll keep them buffaloed, Barcla, while you move in and out."
There was a nod from Barcla. It ended when he cocked his head, stared uneasily at the windows. He muttered something about the woods being safer than the cabin, to which Scorpio agreed. The two started toward the door, Barcla carrying the bundle.
Harry reached the pier, pushed the boat off and drifted out into the lake. He could hear sounds along the shore; he lay still, lest Scorpio and Barcla hear him. Darkness was thickening, particularly on the water.