Harry was now completely concealed from the island; still he was cautious about making noise. He brought the motor boat beside the wrecked ship, moored it fast to a broken timber, and raised himself to a lower deck. Standing there, Harry looked back to the tiny lights of the plantation.
There, he fancied, Weston Levis was busy with Harvey Wendell. In all probability, Hadley was keeping tabs on the suspected secretary. Whatever might occur, Harry felt sure that he need expect no interference from Harvey Wendell.
Carefully, Harry made his way below decks. Once there, he intended to be on guard. The placid river remained unrippled. The edge of the swamp was as serene as ever. No sign of human presence was in evidence for a short while.
Then, from the edge of the swamp, another boat drifted silently toward the derelict. It was the flat-bottomed rowboat which had kept up the drifting pursuit of the motor boat.
The little craft moved through the reeds along the course which Harry had followed. Its occupant used a single oar with excellent caution. The rowboat did not even scratch against the side of the River Queen as it came in amidships.
Harry, in accordance with The Shadow’s instructions, had moored the motor boat near the bow of the derelict. The newcomer, however, was directly at the center, where the broken entrance to the boiler room could be reached from the upper side of the listed steamboat.
THE man who had arrived seemed familiar with the place where he had stopped. Protected beneath the side of the derelict, he lighted a match and held the flame close to the rotting timbers, so that it revealed a mark upon the side of the old steamboat. The man had found the spot he wanted.
More surprising, however, than the action of this follower was the fact which the flickering match betrayed. As the man bent forward close to the flame, his face was momentarily revealed.
It was the sallow countenance of Harvey Wendell!
By some ruse, Weston Levis’ secretary had managed to leave the plantation house. He had gone up the river to watch for Harry Vincent’s return. He had gained a rowboat stationed at the landing. He had followed the motor boat’s drift, and had landed here. He intended to use the accessible entrance to the boiler room to board the River Queen!
Harry Vincent had never dreamed that Harvey Wendell could have been upon his trail. The young man’s faith in Weston Levis had been misplaced. Wendell was free — in action, and prepared to creep in unsuspected. Harry Vincent was due for a surprise — one which was delayed only because Harvey Wendell lingered before making his cautious advance.
Not only was Harry Vincent due for a surprise; Harvey Wendell was also destined to cause a change in The Shadow’s plans. Three crooks upon the isle of doubt knew nothing of events aboard the River Queen, but Harvey Wendell, the man who had a definite purpose of his own, was on the job.
Strange surprises were in the making when Harvey Wendell arose and raised his hands to draw his body up the side of the abandoned steamboat. Harry Vincent had arrived; Harvey Wendell had followed.
Before this fateful night would end, a culmination of startling events would reach an amazing climax.
Cross-purposes were at work amid the affairs of men who sought for stolen wealth; and within the maze of circumstances, the hidden presence of The Shadow, man of the night, was fated to play its part!
CHAPTER XIV. TRAPPED!
HARRY VINCENT had reached the boiler room of the derelict. Holding a flashlight low, so its rays were focused only on his surroundings, he had made a quick survey of the place. Rusted machinery set in a water-logged pit, around that, a raised ledge which afforded plenty of foot room. These were the principal features of the boiler room.
Harry had come through an entrance at the front. There was a similar passage at the rear. Then there were side doors — both closed with old wooden barriers. Harry’s light went out. The Shadow’s agent stationed himself on the lower side of the ship.
Harry had something to think about. From the moment that he had entered this portion of the derelict, he had sensed a presence which he could not see. His light had thrown long, grotesque streaks of shaded blackness. In that guarded illumination, Harry had fancied that he had seen a tall, mysterious shape.
Was The Shadow here?
There were reasons to believe so. Harry could not relieve himself of an impression of awe — a feeling which he had previously experienced when in the presence of The Shadow. Friends or enemies — so long as they were ordinary beings — were not difficult for Harry to detect. The Shadow’s agent had acquired considerable skill as an investigator. But when The Shadow was present, the only indication was that weird feeling that invisible eyes were watching; that a powerful, unseen hand was close by.
Minutes drifted. It was quiet in the boiler room. Harry no longer felt that uncanny sensation that betokened The Shadow’s presence. Intuitively, Harry came to a solution.
The Shadow had been on this boat, awaiting Harry’s arrival! Now that his agent was here, The Shadow had departed on some other errand!
That, surely, must be the answer. Eventually, The Shadow would return — until then, it was Harry’s duty to watch.
Had The Shadow gone to the island? That was plausible. Harry half imagined the master of the night stalking forth to spy upon the house where three crooks were stationed. Thinking of The Shadow as a personage brought recollections of the amazing episodes in which Harry had seen The Shadow figure.
Long ago, Harry Vincent had been on the brink of suicide. A mysterious figure from the night — a being shrouded in fog and blackness — had drawn him back. A commanding voice had ordered Harry to obey the mandates of The Shadow. Harry had undertaken that trust. He had always followed his duty.
Danger — adventure — thrills — all had been Harry Vincent’s lot. He had been captured by insidious enemies; he had been wounded on occasions; he had been doomed to die by monsters of crime. Always, The Shadow had arrived to rescue him.
The Shadow never failed; in that conviction, Harry held no reservations. Yet The Shadow relied upon his agents to do their duty. When they failed, difficult situations arose, and such occurrences brought trouble to The Shadow’s plans.
HARRY VINCENT did not expect trouble tonight. He was sure that he had come unobserved to the River Queen. He reasoned that the crooks on the island would not make another trip to the derelict; he decided that Harvey Wendell could not possibly have left the plantation at this early hour.
Hence, Harry accepted his present duty as a matter of routine, and his sense of vigilance returned only when he thought that he heard a creaking sound from the opposite side of the boiler room.
Softly, Harry arose and crept along the catwalk, in order to look beyond the old machinery. All was blackness on the other side. Without light, it was impossible to tell whether or not some one had slid aside the old door that led to the outer deck.
Harry did not care to risk his flashlight. He remained vigilant, ready to go into action at a moment’s notice.
No further sound came from the direction of the old door. Harry realized that a stealthy prowler could have entered by that route, but it would have been an artful piece of business for any one to have done so.
Nevertheless, the belief that a person had come in from the side door still persisted in Harry’s mind.
Close by the front companionway, Harry decided that if an enemy had entered, he would probably have taken the rear route around the machinery. With this sudden thought, Harry crept back along the lower side of the catwalk. He stopped — to listen.