The conversation which Harry Vincent now heard justified The Shadow’s deduction.
“Well, Zach” — Possum Quill was speaking in a smooth but disgruntled tone — “we’re here on your island. Where’s the swag?”
“That’s up to us to find out,” retorted Zach.
“We’ve had no luck yet,” declared Possum.
“What do you expect?” queried Zach. “You don’t think Birch Bizzup would have left the dough laying loose, do you? It’ll be hard to find — I told you that when we came here.”
“We’ve been at it a couple of days,” said Lefty, gruffly siding with Possum.
“Yeah,” retorted Zach, “and we’ve gone through the old boat and this house. They were the first two places to look, of course. But it’s likely that Birch picked somewhere better. Give us time — we’ll find it.”
“Out here in the sticks,” growled Possum. “Plowing around an island like a bunch of Boy Scouts. You sure horsed us this trip, Zach.”
“Horsed you?” Zach was angry in tone. “Say — if you birds had stayed in New York, you’d have been nabbed with Punch Baxton and his mob. The bulls got those guys — and if I hadn’t showed up to give you this steer, you’d have taken it, too.”
“Maybe,” voiced Lefty.
“Maybe?” Zach laughed. “You know what Possum said himself. A fine job — all for one grand — and you’d never have collected. Don’t tell me. When you read that New York newspaper, both of you were glad you hadn’t stayed in the big town.”
“Zach’s right, Lefty,” declared Possum. “We’re better off here. We’ve got a chance for a big haul — if we can find the spot we want. I’m leery, though.”
“Why?” queried Zach.
“Some other guy may know the lay,” said Possum.
“The boys were all bumped off, I tell you,” came back Zach. “That is, all except a couple of punks who went to the Big House along with me. They weren’t in the break—”
“I’m not figuring them,” interrupted Possum. “From what you say, Birch Bizzup was a smart gazabo. Maybe you weren’t the only guy that was close to him. Suppose he had another worker — an inside man.”
“Birch never said nothing about any such guy.”
“Birch wouldn’t have told you, Zach. I’m not saying anything for certain — I’m just figuring. Somebody else may know about this hidden swag. If there is such a bird, he’s had month or more to look for it.”
“Listen, Possum. Birch Bizzup was smart. You said plenty when you made that statement. Maybe Birch did have some connection that I didn’t know about. But what of it? This hiding place was Birch’s own idea. He only let me in on it because he needed me to help him lug the swag.
“Say, Possum, I came up here with Birch, and the two of us had a load of real goods. I stuck down by the shore; when Birch came back, he didn’t have the stuff with him. It was all he could do to carry it alone.”
“He left you on the shore, eh?”
“Yeah,” returned Zach, “and he started around the island in the boat.”
“Maybe he went over to the mainland.”
“I don’t think so, Possum. He must have landed at another spot on the island. I figured it that way at the time. I still figure it that way now.”
“You win, Zach. I guess the swag is here. Just the same, I suspicion another guy in it somehow.”
“I don’t, Possum — at least I don’t figure the other fellow or anybody Birch might have known could have got the goods. Look here — suppose when we find the swag — are we going to bother about covering up?”
“No — I don’t think there’d be much reason to bother.”
“Well — suppose some wise guy got here ahead of us — figuring, like us, that he’s the only one on the lay. He’d have left some tracks, if he’d picked up the swag.”
“Yeah. That sounds likely.”
Silence descended upon the trio. Harry Vincent slipped away from the window. He reached the corner of the house and crouched there.
Harry was satisfied. He had discovered that the crooks were on the isle. He had learned that they had not yet found the wealth for which they had come. This would be real information for The Shadow.
HARRY lingered cautiously. He intended to make a very careful departure. Care was essential. He watched the shaft of light that came from the window, then began to back from the side of the house.
Suddenly, he stopped.
The Shadow’s agent had detected something beyond the light from the window. Harry heard a slight sound. He had a hunch that some one else was entering this picture.
While Harry waited, the figure of a man appeared within the range of light. Harry saw a face come into view, as the stranger raised his head to peer through the cracked boards of the window.
Staring, Harry recognized the face. It was the sallow countenance of Harvey Wendell!
All Harry’s suspicions of the secretary crystallized in the space of a few seconds. Wendell’s absence from the plantation, yesterday afternoon; his secret departure late last night; his presence here!
What cause would Wendell, as an old man’s secretary, have to visit this island?
There could be only one answer. Harvey Wendell must know the secret of the buried wealth!
Adding facts, Harry saw merit to the suggestion, which he had heard Possum Quill utter but a few minutes ago. Harvey Wendell was a crafty individual. He was the type who would have worked as Birch Bizzup’s secret accomplice. The secretary of a business man — a crook by actual profession. Such was Harry Vincent’s prompt summary.
Harry could see a reason now for Wendell’s supposed discovery of an excellent plantation where Weston Levis could live, in retirement. It had given Wendell the opportunity to make excursions to the island.
Had Wendell already discovered the hidden funds? Harry was considering that fact as he watched the black-haired man peer into the window. Wendell’s expression was barely discernible. It showed eagerness to hear what was going on. Harry knew then that Harvey Wendell could not have completed his quest before the arrival of the crooks.
Harry watched and waited. He was in readiness for any emergency. In his pocket, Harry carried an automatic. He was sure that Wendell was also armed, for he could see the secretary’s hand resting upon his hip. Several minutes passed, then Wendell suddenly ducked away from the window.
Harry knew that the secretary had come from the lee shore of the island, and was probably headed for a rowboat which he had left there. In his turn, Harry pushed through the bushes and regained the path. He made good progress to the bank where he had left the motor boat. Harry pushed the little craft from the shore.
FIFTEEN minutes later, Harry had drifted well below the island. He started the motor, let the chugging gradually increase, and gave the boat speed upstream.
Harry skirted the island, and headed for the light that twinkled on Saunders Landing. Then, as he reached a spot on a cross line with the cove at the plantation, Harry sped the boat across stream and coasted into the little dock that rested in the shelter of the cove.
As he turned off the motor, Harry caught the click of oarlocks. He could see a hazy outline moving into the cove. He called a greeting.
“That you, Vincent?” came a growling response.
“Right,” responded Harry.
A flashlight turned on. A rowboat came up beside the motor boat. Harry recognized Wendell as the secretary turned the light upward.
“Just out for my evening row,” remarked Wendell. “Got my work done early for a change. Thought you’d be back before this.”
“I took a long trip down the river,” responded Harry.
The boats were docked. The two men were walking side by side along the path that led to the clearing.