From his vantage point, Harry was barely able to discern Scorpio when the professor came out on the dock and entered his speedboat alone.
Scorpio drifted, too, before starting the motor. As the speedster increased its distance from shore, Scorpio stepped it up. That made it safe for Harry to get going, but he throttled down his motor very promptly. He thought that he had heard Scorpio's speedster slacken, as though the professor had detected sounds behind him.
INSTEAD of going direct to the Community Center, Harry detoured across by Denwood's. There, he grabbed a few clothes and put them in a bag.
After leaving a coded message for The Shadow, Harry told Denwood that he was starting for Los Angeles, and hurried down to the dock. There was no sign of Scorpio's speedster; the professor must be back at the Castle.
Looking out across the blackened lake, Harry stared suspiciously at everything that resembled foam.
Even the splashes of fish caught his attention. He was remembering the mystery craft that also plowed these waters, wondering if it had been around this evening.
Harry had forgotten the lake monster while thinking about Scorpio. Satisfied that the lake was as placid as it looked, Harry started off.
From Denwood's, a close inshore route was best, because of a shoal. Harry was sure that he had passed the danger spot, when he felt the prow of his boat quiver. He had struck something, too close for the searchlight to show; for Harry was using a high focus.
It was a shoal, and an odd one; for the boat seemed to climb along it as Harry cut off the motor.
It wasn't a shoal; it was an island! Added to that surprise, Harry recognized that it was moving. Before he could jump to a further conclusion, brawny hands descended upon him. Twisting, too late to struggle, Harry saw that he had struck neither shoal nor isle.
He had run upon the lake monster; lurking in the darkness, the strange craft had glided forward as Harry's boat struck it. It was as tricky as a crocodile, posing as a log, then turning to life. The long slope of the thin craft's deck had slithered under Harry's boat, to lift it from the water!
The men were coming from a tiny cockpit; as two hauled Harry down into their craft, a third rolled over into Harry's boat and added weight from the opposite direction.
Hands pinned behind him, throat half-throttled, Harry put up a final struggle, kicking hard with his feet.
Just as he was wrenching free, a heavy, padded object struck him behind the ear.
Stunned, Harry settled helplessly. The two men pulled him down with them; drew a sliding hood, with a tiny celluloid window, over the space above their heads. There was a slight churn as the mystery ship worked backward; then it was gliding off into the lake. The man who had taken over Harry's boat continued toward the Community Center.
AT the Pioneer Mine, a search had proven fruitless. After going through old shafts with flashlights, the searchers ended at a spot where a large chunk of payless ore had settled down into a cavity. The blocking rock was too deep-set for them to haul it out.
"Barcla couldn't have gotten that chunk out," said the sheriff, as they left the mine. "Anyway, Mr.
Cranston, I'm just as glad we haven't found him."
"On account of the coming séance?"
"That's it." The sheriff nodded. "I like your idea of nabbing Scorpio and Barcla together. But I kind of figured they'd get leery if they heard we weren't hunting any more. So I thought it best to keep the boys busy."
The Shadow complimented the sheriff on his foresight. As they met the others, they parted in a group.
Near the lake the crowd divided. They had come in two boats, which they had left in different spots.
Each crew thought that the helpful Mr. Cranston was going back with the other. Both were wrong.
From beneath the charred wharf, The Shadow picked up hat and cloak that Harry had left there for him.
Completely enveloped in black, he used the cloak folds to shield the glow of a tiny flashlight, as he picked a course of his own along the shore.
It was only a short route, along the curve of Piny Head, to the channel between that promontory and the island. The channel in question was the entrance to Indian Cove.
The Shadow expected slight ripples from the direction of the bay; but he gave occasional glances toward the lake. He suddenly spotted a streak of foam along the blackened water, heard the slight swash of little waves. He was clinging to a bush on a rocky bank just above the channel, as a slender thing of steel eased through the tiny inlet.
With a roll, The Shadow landed on the metal creature's long back. His fingers dug among rivets; his soft-tipped shoes allowed him a toe hold. High and dry, yet with wavelets scudding up beside his shoulders, The Shadow clung to the lake monster as it gathered speed.
The thing whisked through the cove, then slackened. Still riding it, The Shadow checked the tricky channel it took among the stony piles. It had two propellers, that craft, and they enabled it to pivot sharply. It found a course where, earlier, neither The Shadow nor Harry had observed one. But The Shadow had suspected such a channel.
Solid blackness loomed ahead-the heights of Indian Rock. There was a gap: the arch-like crevice at the water line. The long, low hull had been designed to pass under it with only a few inches of clearance. Not enough for The Shadow, too, but the slow-motion approach gave him time to reach up from the stern and clutch the rock above.
Its cracked surface gave him a grip; he found it just as he was toppling backward. The steel monster was gone from beneath him, in under the very rock to which The Shadow clung. Swinging sideward, the cloaked investigator found a foothold and began to worm his way up the rock.
Soon, The Shadow reached a narrow split; when a loose bit of stone slipped through the fissure, he heard it plunk into water below. The discovery was one that would prove useful later; for the present, The Shadow wished simply to reach solid ground.
A sideward trip brought him to turf that marked the edge of the great granite rock. From there, he reached the woods.
It would be a long trip by land, back to some spot where The Shadow could find a boat; but he had all the time he wanted. His work for tonight was ended, according to his calculations. Above the lake, The Shadow saw the rising lights of the taxi plane, winging toward Los Angeles.
There was a whispered laugh in the darkness, signifying that The Shadow thought that all was well. For he believed that his agent, Harry Vincent, was safely on board that plane, taking a night flight to the city.
The Shadow had considered it good policy to let the crooks in the lake monster return to their base unmolested.
The Shadow was to change that opinion, later, when pieced facts would tell him that Harry had been a prisoner within the mystery ship, while The Shadow, himself, was riding as an unseen passenger upon the deck!
CHAPTER XIII. PLACES OF DARKNESS.
WHEN Harry Vincent awoke, he could remember a long succession of strange nightmares, interspersed with darkness and light. He had heard voices, some ugly, others friendly, but none had roused him from his coma until the present moment.
His eyes opening slowly, Harry saw two men standing, with a lantern, above a cot on which he lay. He recognized them; one was Horace, the sly servant who had tricked Denwood; the other was the missing man from Paula Lodi's, the husky Rufus.
"He'll come to," growled Horace, in reference to Harry. "Leave him lay. We've got to get started for Grendale's."
"Not yet," returned Rufus. "But we may as well let the other simps work on the guy. Come on."
Rufus hung the lantern on a hook. The two men went out. Harry tried weakly to rise; sank back as the door of the room opened. Eyes half shut, he saw another pair entering. They came unwillingly, at the points of guns: Howard Carradon and Niles Rundon.