"Tom, I am a friend of yours, and your daughter's; but I tell you the girl is in a bad fix."

"She shall go away."

"To-morrow?"

"We shall see."

Ike Denman remained to exchange a few more words, and went away; the father and daughter were alone.

The girl told of the attempt to kidnap her.

"I see it all, Renie, I see it all! But you are safe, and you shall not come to harm; but tell me, who, is the man who was brought before me?"

The girl was saved an answer, for the man walked in to answer for himself.



CHAPTER XII.

Renie was surprised to see the detective enter the cabin.

"Tom Pearce," said our hero, "I am a stranger to you and yours, but I am your friend. I cannot tell you who I am at present, but in good time you shall know all!"

"How was it you were suspected of having assailed me?" asked the old smuggler.

"I was coming to your cabin to ask some questions, when, as a stranger, who could give no satisfactory account of himself, I was arrested."

Renie had told her father that the detective had rescued her from the hands of Garcia and his men.

The old smuggler was not altogether satisfied with the young man's statement, as a suspicion ran through his mind that he was, after all, a secret emissary of the Cuban.

"You were coming to see me?" said the old smuggler.

"Yes."

"What is your business with me?"

"I can defer my business to some other time; the fact of your injury prevents me from troubling you now."

"Never mind my injury, I am all right now. I received many a worse thump when I was a younger man, but I am an old one now, and I tell you age will tell; but you can open your business."

"I am your friend, Tom Pearce,"

"Many an enemy claims to be a man's friend."

"Had I known what I do now, you would never have been stricken down."

"I can tell you that had I known myself what I do now, I would never have been stricken down."

"The man Garcia is your enemy!"

"Eh? What's that you are saying?"

"I am telling you the man Garcia is your enemy!"

"What do you know about the man Garcia?"

"I know he is a villain!"

The old smuggler fixed his eyes on the young man, and said:

"Who sent you here?"

"No one."

"Why did you come here?"

"To warn you against Garcia."

The statement in various ways, as our readers will recognize, was the truth.

"You came here to warn me against Garcia?"

"Yes."

"Why should you come to warn me?"

"Because I know the man who assailed you to be a villain."

"The man who assailed me?"

"Yes."

"How do you know who assailed me?"

"I know him."

"How comes it that you are any friend? Why should you warn me? Have you known me before?"

"I never saw you until this night to my recollection."

"Then how is it you take such an interest in me?"

"My interest in you is because of Garcia's designs, I hate that man. I am on his track, and I am the friend of any man whom he is against!"

"Are you acquainted with my daughter?" asked the old smuggler in a suspicious tone.

"I never saw your daughter before to-night."

"How did you know Garcia was coming here?"

"I tracked him."

"Why did you track him?"

"Because I knew he was up to some villainy,"

"You say the man is my enemy?"

"Would a friend assail you as you have been assailed sailed this night?"

"How do you know Garcia assailed me?"

"I tracked him to this house, and a few moments after he left the house you were found lying unconscious in this room."

"Where were you when I was assaulted?"

"I was down at the bay shore."

"What were you doing there?"

"Watching the men whom Garcia brought with him to aid him in his design."

"This is a strange story you are telling me, young man. How do I know but you are an enemy?"

"I am not an enemy!"

"But are you an enemy to Garcia?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That is a private matter."

"Why is he my enemy?"

The young man was silent, but looked toward Renie.

The old smuggler followed the direction of his glance end said:

"Come, speak out plainly, do not fear!"

"I fear nothing."

"Then speak."

The young man reached over the bed and whispered in the old man's ear:

"I do not wish to speak in your daughter's presence."

"Renie, go from the cabin a few moments, this man has something to tell me."

The detective signaled to the girl to obey, but the latter showed some hesitancy and said:

"Father, I do not wish to leave you alone with stranger."

"You need not fear, child, and you can remain within call."

"Are you sure this is not the man who assaulted you?"

"Yes, child. I know well enough who assaulted me; go away, I will call you when I wish you to return."

The girl went from the room, but at the same time exhibited considerable reluctance.

The detective's admiration for the girl increased. He recognized that she was playing a part, and really aiding him in impressing the old man as intended.

When alone, the old smoggier said:

"Now, speak out, young man!"

"Do you suspect Garcia's purpose?"

"We are not talking about what I suspect, whale have you to tell me?"

"Garcia has designs against your daughter, all his pretensions about desiring to benefit her are a part of his scheme. He is a deep dyed villain, a man capable of any crime."

"How do I know you are not one of his agents?"

"It wouldn't stand to reason that, if I were his Agent, I would denounce him."

"That might be a part of his purpose."

"I warn you against the man; take nobody's advice; keep your daughter under your own special care."

"Why have you such an interest in my daughter?" demanded the old smuggler, abruptly, and again he fixed his eyes keenly on the detective.

"I am against Garcia, whatever his schemes may be; and now that I've warned you, I've nothing more to say; do as you choose, I owe you nothing, nor do you owe me anything; you can believe what I have told you, or doubt it, just as you choose, but remember I have warned you!"

The detective started to leave the cabin, when the old man called him back and asked:

"What is your name?"

"My name is Ballard."

"Where are you from?"

"Cuba."

"Will I see you again?"

"You may; but let me tell you one thing, if you wish me to remain your friend, tell no man that I warned you against Garcia. I propose to hang around the coast for awhile."

"For what purpose?"

"To circumvent the villain Garcia. I may stand you in good need when you least expect it, if you permit me to be your friend."



CHAPTER XIII.

Without another word the detective departed from the cabin; a little distance across the sand he saw a figure. He recognized Renie and went toward her.

"I did not know you," said the girl.

"You may not know me the next time we meet."

"This is wonderful."

"I am a detective, I have made a study of the art of disguise; my success and my safety ofttimes depend upon my skill in changing my appearance at a moment's notice; but now, let me thank you for saving my life!"

"Saving your life!"

"Yes."

"It was for me you put your life in jeopardy."

"No, no, I am carrying out my own designs."

"You saved me from that man Garcia!"

"And you saved me from being hanged by those men."

"You will leave the coast now?"

"Leave the coast?"

"Yes."

"Well, I reckon not. I've just got down to business."

"You will be discovered; you will be in worse peril as the Government detective than you were as the supposed assailant of my father."

"I can take care of myself."

"And you will remain?"

"I will remain."

"You invite your doom."

"Well, well, I've often done the same thing before; I am in the way of duty. Renie, understand me, I am your friend. I will risk anything to guard you from evil, but it is my duty to break up this gang of smugglers, and I shall do my duty at any cost!"

"But I have betrayed you."

"Yes, I know all about it; your betrayal was not intentional; you are a brave noble girl! tell me, are you in any way connected with the smugglers?"

"I am not."

"Then fear nothing."

"But my father?"

"Your father is not actively engaged as a smuggler now, and I will not get him into trouble, but I must do my duty, and now answer me frankly, are you against me?"

"How against you?"

"I have decided to remain and do my duty, I am the enemy of the gang! Are you their friend? Will you stand between me and them?"

"Never! but I know you will never leave the coast alive! those men will not rest day or night until they run you down, and I cannot aid you, as I have already earned their enmity, and they have demanded that I be sent away!"

"That is all right."

"The girl laughed and said:

"It is easy enough to say 'that is all right,' but where shall I go?"

"Go with Tom Pearce."

"Tom Pearce will not leave the coast."

"Yes, he will."

"Did he tell you so?"

"No, but I will persuade him. I will show him very soon that it is best for him to go. He will go, never fear!"

"You will never persuade him."

"I will use an argument you do not dream of, my, girl; and now, mark me, I am your friend. I have promised to solve the mystery surrounding your commission to the care of the Pearces many years ago. I will learn all about you, I will find the box."

"What box?"

The detective smiled as he remembered that the girl knew nothing about the box, and he said:

"Ah, that is a way we detectives have of speaking! the secret of your life is boxed somewhere, we would say, and I will unravel the mystery."

"Why should you take such an interest in me?"

"Did you not save my life?"

"But did you not imperil your life in my behalf?"

"No; I was in the way of duty when I fell into the hands of the smugglers under such peculiar circumstances; but never mind, we will not discuss that matter. I have seen fit to make you a promise, and I will make my promise good."

"Never! if you decide to remain on the coast."

"I shall remain! and now, Renie, as we are friends, let us arrange so as to guard against future perils. I may appear here under many disguises, it is necessary for both of us that you should always know and recognize me; but you must never betray your recognition; to you in the presence of others I must always be a stranger; your safety and my own demands it, but all will come out right in the end."

"Never! Never! those men will kill you!"

"I shall go to sea with those men before to-morrow's sunset."

"You will never return."

"Oh, yes I will; and now listen."

The detective proceeded and arranged a number of secret signs and signals with the girl. He instructed her in a private finger code, and found her a ready and apt scholar. He gave her also a written chart for future study, telling her that if she mastered it, they could converse in the presence of others, and none would be the wiser.

Having concluded his instructions, he said:

"Go now to your father. I may not see you for two or three days, but always be on your guard."

"Against whom?"

"Garcia."

"Do you think he will dare return?"

"That man may have secret agents among the smugglers."

"None of the men would betray me to him."

"We cannot tell what money may accomplish; but I do not anticipate danger for a few days, or I would not leave, you; still you must be on your guard."

"Where go you now?"

"To Rigby's,"

"To Rigby's?" ejaculated the girl.

"Yes; why not?"

"You go at your peril!"

The detective laughed and said:

"Never fear for me; good-night!"

Without waiting to listen to further words of warning the detective walked rapidly away.

Renie returned to the cabin; the girl was disturbed and thoughtful. The dream of her lonely life was opening up to her, but alas! the picture was fringed with dark surroundings.

Upon entering the cabin the girl was addressed by her father, who asked:

"Renie, what do you think of that fellow?"

"He is a mysterious man, father, but he appears to be friendly to us."

"He has spoken nothing but the truth, so far, my child. Garcia is a villain! it was he who assailed me."

"How was it he came to assail you, father?"

"My child, that man has designs against you; it is time that I told you all I know concerning yourself!"

"Do so, father."

The old smuggler proceeded and related to Renie all that he had told to Garcia, and also stated the Cuban's proposition.

The girl was silent, but deeply interested, and the one thought that ran through her mind was the knowledge that Spencer Vance had overheard the revelation when made to Garcia.

The old man had just concluded his narrative when an intruder walked into the cabin.



CHAPTER XIV.

A reckless gang of men were assembled in the low tavern kept my a man named Rigby.

The latter was a remarkable man. He kept a low seashore resort, a place where fishermen and the roughest sort of men gathered, and yet he was a man of considerable education and a great deal of cunning, and coined more good money in this little seaside tavern then did other rumsellers who occupied saloons in the great city, that cost thousands to fit up and decorate.

Rigby was too cunning and careful to be a smuggler himself, but he was also cunning enough to "scoop in" the major portion of the earnings of the men engaged in the perilous trade.

It was only when the business had grown to large proportions that the Government organized a regular plan for its suppression; and at the time our story opens, the play between the smugglers and the Government agents was at its finest point. It was well known that there were parties in New York who had, and were still realizing immense sums of money by cheating the Government of its legitimate revenue.

The Collector of the Port did not care so much about the crews of the vessels, it was the owners and capitalists he was seeking to trail down.

The smugglers had given over the search for Spencer Vance, and in parties of twos and threes, had gathered at Rigby's, until at least fifteen or twenty men were assembled. They were all smugglers and members of the crew of the smuggler yacht "Nancy."

As intimated in our opening chapters, the men ostensibly were fishermen, and their boat was stated to be a fishing-boat; and to lend color to the claim, the men did go off between times on fishing expeditions, and the latter little trick had been their best "blind" and "throw off."

Again, as intimated in our former chapters, three Government officers had mysteriously disappeared, and the duty had devolved upon the Government officials not only to stay the illegal traffic, but to ferret out and bring to punishment the murderers of the missing detectives.

There was no actual proof, however, that the men were murdered; as far as the Government officials were advisedly concerned, the detectives were merely missing. It was reported by some "Smart Alec" that the detectives had been put on outgoing vessels bound for some distant port, and that in good season they would turn up, and then again there was the chance that the officers might have met with accidents in their perilous undertaking.

Spencer Vance, however, was fully satisfied in his own mind that his brother officers had been murdered. He knew too well that tragic events are of constant occurrence which never come to light; tragedies so terrible that were the details to be known, a thrill of horror would go throughout the whole land.

There are horrors enough that do become public, but there are as many more that never come to the surface.

The men, as stated, gathered at Rigby's; they had just returned from a search for Spencer Vance.

There was no doubt in their minds as to the truth of the report that he was a spy in their midst. The fact that he had declined to go out on the yacht that night was to them proof as clear as "Holy Writ" that he was a Government officer.

It was important to catch him and put him out of the way as soon as possible, as there were several very valuable shipments on the way to New York, and chances favored the men for making quite large sums of money.

Our readers must not understand that the vessel engaged in the smuggling business carried no other freight; the goods intended to be smuggled in was but a small part of their cargo, but amounted on each vessel to enough to yield enormous profits to the capitalists as well as to the actual smuggler crews.

One of the men, as he drunk off a glass of grog, remarked:

"Boys, it's a cold day for us that the fellow should have received a warning; it's money out of our pockets!"

There was a one-eyed, ugly visaged fellow sitting off in a corner of the room, who remarked:

"You lads will see colder days yet; you may say the business is all up, and we'd better take the 'Nancy' over to the mackerel banks and work for a few honest pennies."

"What makes you say that, Jake?"

"I'm only telling yer the truth; yer a chicken-hearted lot, and losing all yer game; for what? the pretty face of a she-devil!"

Too well the men all understood one-eyed Jake's savage suggestion.

"You don't think," said one of them, "that the gal is dead against us?"

"Well, I think she is as dead against us as a few dollars in gold can make a female who's fond of gewgaws, and ambitious to be a fine lady."

"Do you mean to say Renie receives money?"

"Well, I don't think bad enough of the gal to say she'd go agin us for fun. I tell you, boys, the thing is dead agin us unless the gal is silenced!"

The men all entered loud protests; the girl was a great favorite yet with most of them, as she had grown up in their midst.

"Oh, I expected you'd growl when you learned the truth, and it's the gal or us—, as you all think so much of the gal, I propose we lay provision in the 'Nancy,' and go off after mackerel.

"What would you propose, Jake?"

"I propose sending the gal away."

"You would do her no harm?"

"I wouldn't harm a hair of her head; but she's doing us a good deal of harm all the same."

"It's already been suggested to Tom Pearce to send the gal away."

"He'll never do it!"

"But he must."

"It's all right to say he must; but who'll make old Tom Pearce do a thing when he's made up his mind that be won't?"

"What would you propose?"

"I'd propose that we smuggle the gal."

"How smuggle her?"

"Take her out on the 'Nancy,' and put her aboard some outgoing vessel as a passenger."

"That wouldn't do, Jake"

"Then let's go mackerel-fishing, for the other trade is knocked dead in the head."

The men were all drinking, and became more or less excited under the influence of the liquor.

Jake was a bad fellow at heart, but he was one of the most daring men in the crew of jolly smugglers and the men had great confidence in his judgment.

"I tell you, boys, the gal must be disposed of, or she'll give information right; just see how we stand now; there's a boat due, there's a big haul for us, and this man has been in our midst for two weeks or more, and he's got all the points and—" The man's further speech was interrupted by the entrance of a stranger.



CHAPTER XV.

The man who suddenly entered in the midst of the speech of one-eyed Jake was Ballard, the man whom an hour or two previously that very gang of men had set to hang.

The crew of the "Nancy" gazed at the newcomer in astonishment, and a wicked gleam shone in the single eye of Jake.

"You're cheeky, stranger, to walk in here after what's just happened!"

The disguised detective laughed in a pleasant manner, and answered:

"That's just why I'm here; you fellows ought to be glad to see me knocking around alive, when you think how bad you would have felt had you swung me over the spar."

"We've no fancy for strangers around here!"

"We'll a man who's been following the sea all his life should not be a stranger among you fellows."

"Where have you sailed, stranger?"

"Better ask where I haven't sailed, and it won't take so long to pay out the information."

There was an off hand, jolly sort of style about the stranger which rather pleased the gang of smugglers.

"What brought you down this way?"

I've been off for five years, and when I'm off on a voyage I'm clean gone; all the doors are closed behind me. I never get any letters, and I never send any, so it's all news to me when I come in from the sea; and I came down here to see my mother's cousin."

"Who is your mother's cousin, stranger?"

"Well, you fellows are running down close into a strange craft; my relative was old Aunt Betsy, Tom Pearce's wife."

"She's dead!"

"Well, so I know now; and I came near being sent after her; but all's well that ends well, so come, all hands, and have a little throat burner with me."

The men were all glad enough to step up and take a snifter with the stranger, who after so long a voyage they reckoned must have a pocketful of the wherewithal.

We will not go further into the details of the methods pursued by the detective to worm himself into the confidence of the smugglers; it is sufficient to say that within two hours after his appearance in their midst he had won all their hearts.

Our readers can form some idea of the wonderful skill, coolness, and daring of the detective, who within twenty-four hours walked under a new disguise right into the midst of a gang of desperate men, who, had they recognized him as he was known but a few hours previously, would have killed him as they would have slain a venomous serpent.

A number of the men fell into a regular carouse with the detective; among them was Ike Denman, the captain of the yacht "Nancy." Indeed, the men got into a game of cards, and Ballard lost like a little man and stood his ill luck with such marvelous good nature, the men fell right to him.

When it was well into the morning, the game broke up, and Denman invited the detective to go aboard the yacht and bunk for the night.

Our hero gladly accepted the invitation; and when once aboard, as it was a pleasant morning, the two even lay out upon the deck, and Denman became quite confidential. He let the detective into the secret of the real business of the crew of the yacht, and told him that daily they were expecting a schooner from the West Indies with a big cargo for them.

"How do you run it ashore?" asked the detective, innocently.

"Make a trip with us and we'll show you how the thing is done; the fact is I'm a man or two short, and if you want to take a rake in with us you're welcome."

"That's just the ticket for me!" answered Spencer Vance.

Our readers must understand that the detective had been wonderfully diplomatic and cute to so readily, worm himself into the confidence of Ike Denman.

The men at length went to sleep and slept far into the morning. Ike Denman was the first to awake, seemingly, but in reality the detective had been on the alert all the time.

The master of the "Nancy" was quite a different man in the morning when burning under the after-effects of liquor than he was when in the full fever of a jolly spell. As he opened his eyes and saw our hero stretched upon the deck, he gave him a lunge in the ribs, and as Vance opened his eyes, Denman exclaimed:

"Hello! what are you snoozing there for, old man?"

The detective was on his feet in a moment.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Denman appeared to have forgotten who our hero was, but in reality he was only pretending to forget.

Denman was a good sailor, and a very cunning man; but at heart he was a very ugly and desperate fellow, and not at all distinguished by any of the generous traits usually characteristic of jolly tars.

"What's the matter, captain?"

"What's the matter? I'm asking you who you are, and what you are doing here?"

The detective came a little nearer, and assumed a surprised air.

"Don't stand there, making sober faces. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Denman was conscious that he was given to talking too much when in his cups, and he was leading the new hand on to betray just how much had been revealed to him.

"You shipped me last night, captain."

"I shipped you last night?"

"Yes; but if you don't want me as one of your crew, I'm willing."

"Who are you, anyhow?"

"My name is Ballard. I told you who I was last night."

"What did you tell me?"

"See here, captain, it ain't necessary to go over all that passed between us last night. If you don't wart to take me on with you, say so, and I'll get ashore."

Denman laughed in a merry manner, and said:

"I reckon it's all right."

"I can prove it's all right, captain."

"How so?"

Ballard ran his eye over the yacht's rigging, and said:

"Would you take any suggestions from a man who had plenty of experience in crafts of this sort?"

"I would; yes."

The detective who really was a splendid seaman, made some very pertinent and useful suggestions, and Denman was just sailor enough to appreciate that he had secured a useful man; and he said:

"It's all right. Consider yourself shipped. You're just the man I want; and we'll get to work at once on your alterations."

The suggestions were such as could easily be carried out by the master and his crew, and soon all hands were busy.

It had been decided that the yacht would go to sea that night, and our hero was booked for the trip.

Spencer Vance had played his cards well. He improved every moment in making himself popular with the crew, and late in the afternoon, when all hands went ashore, he was the hero of the gang. In an offhand manner the detective remarked, as the boat was run on the beach:

"I'll see you later, boys; I'm going over for a bit to look after Tom Pearce."



CHAPTER, XVI.

Spencer Vance had proceeded but a short distance, when he saw the figure of a girl coming across the sand, and his astonishment was great, when, upon a nearer approach, he recognized Renie.

The girl was neatly dressed, and her feet were covered with dainty slippers, while her hair was tastefully arranged.

Our hero had been impressed with the girl's rare beauty upon beholding her barefooted in her loose gown and unkempt hair; but, as he gazed upon her face when arrayed in neat and well-fitting attire, his admiration was increased.

Renie was indeed a rarely lovely girl—yes, upon those sands he had come upon one of the most beautiful girls he had ever beheld—classically beautiful; not pretty, but, as we write it, rarely beautiful, and she had been reared in a fisherman's cabin.

There was a certain suggestion in the girl's appearance before him in her best attire, that caused a glow of satisfaction around the detective's heart.

There was nothing rich nor elegant in her apparel, but she was so exquisitely lovely her beauty could not be hidden by clothing, no matter how plain. The girl greeted the detective in a frank, open manner, and appeared greatly pleased to meet him. "I expected you to return to the cabin," she said.

"No; I spent the evening with the crew."

"You did not go in the yacht?"

"Yes, I did."

"Oh, why do you take such risks?"

"Never mind about the risk; how is your father?"

"He appears to be all right. He is up and around."

"What does he say about the assault?"

"He has said nothing since last night."

"Has he expressed any determination as to his course?"

"No."

"Well, you must be on your guard, and when I return from my trip, I will have a proposition to make."

"When you return from your trip?"

"Yes."

"Where are you going?"

"I am going off in the yacht."

"This must not be. No, no, you must not go off in the yacht, it will be certain death!"

"I have spent the night with the crew of the 'Nancy,' and they all think me a splendid fellow, and none of them has the least suspicion of my real identity."

"Was Sol Burton present?"

"No."

"Then you must not go on the yacht."

"What has the presence of Sol Burton to do with my going or staying?"

"I believe that man has penetrated your disguise."

"Impossible!"

"I saw him this morning."

"Well?"

"He asked eked me some strange questions. He was very curious concerning your identity."

A shadow fell over the detective's face.

"He spoke about me?"

"Yes."

"But he was speaking of the Government detective?"

"No; he was speaking of you as you have appeared among them in your present guise."

"Does he suspect my real identity"

"I do not know, but he was very inquisitive concerning you."

"What did he say?"

"He lay in wait for me this morning, and when he got an opportunity he asked: 'Renie, who is that man the boys were going to hang last night?'"

"What answer slid you make?"

"I answered: 'You know as well as I do;' when he exclaimed: 'You can't fool me, Renie, you have met that man before.'"

The detective was thoughtful a moment, but at length said:

"I reckon that fellow would be jealous of anyone whom you might address."

"There was a deeper significance in his declaration, and as he went away he said: 'I would not be surprised Renie, if that fellow were to be hanged yet, before another sunrise!'"

"His talk is all buncome, Renie, you need not attach any importance to anything he may say."

"But you will not go off in the yacht?"

"Yes; I shall go!"

A pallor overspread the girl's face, and a look of expressive sadness shone in her eyes as she murmured

"It is my fate!"

"What do you mean, child?"

"I mean that you are a real friend; you are he of whom I dreamed."

The detective glanced at the girl with an expression of aroused curiousness as he said:

"You dreamed of me?"

"Yes."

"This is very strange. What could have suggested such a dream"

"I have dreamed all my life that some good friend would come some day and unravel the mystery of my parentage. It was accident that brought you and me together; but I had come to believe, although I have only known you for a few hours, that you were the good angel who would open the sealed book."

The detective advanced close to the girl, fixed his eyes upon her, and, while a bright flush reddened his cheek, he said, in an earnest tone:

"And so I will, Renie!"

"No, no; you have only come to raise a false hope."

"You are a strange girl, Renie."

"Yes, I am a strange girl in your eyes; but there is nothing strange about me. Mv surroundings make me appear so. Listen: I long for other scenes and associations; there is nothing that holds me to my present life. I know there is someone somewhere who longs for me as I yearn for her."

"Your mother?"

"Yes, my mother."

"If your mother be alive, it shall be my good office to bring mother and child together."

"Never."

"Why do you say never?"

"You are determined to go off on the yacht?"

"Yes, I shall go off on the yacht."

"We will never meet again."

"You take too gloomy a view of the situation."

"I know well the character of the crew of the 'Nancy.'"

"So do I."

A deeper pallor overspread the girl's face, as in a low, husky voice she whispered:

"I believe they are leading you on."

"Leading me on?"

"Yes."

"I do not understand."

"You say you are going off with them?"

"Yes."

"They would not take a stranger off with them unless they had a purpose."

The girl had offered a most startling suggestion.

"The circumstances are peculiar, Renie, and I am a good seaman. I have already proved myself of service to them."

"That does not alter my idea."

"What's your idea?"

"I have a suspicion."

A moment's silence followed, when the detective asked:

"What do you suspect!"

"They have recognized you!"



CHAPTER XVII.

The few sharp quick words of the girl betrayed volumes. Her suggestion was indeed startling; and, what was more; there was not only a possibility, but a probability that her suspicion was correct.

A silence followed her words, but at length the detective said:

"I shall go off on the yacht, Renie."

"And you will never return!"

"Yes, I shall return."

"Suppose my suspicion is correct, and those men are leading you on?"

"It matters not, Renie, I shall go!"

"Are you madly seeking death?"

"No."

"If those men have recognized you, and are playing a part, there will be no chance for you the moment that yacht crosses the bar on her way out to sea."

The detective on the impulse of the moment, was prompted to ask:

"Suppose they kill me, what will you do, Renie?"

The girl was silent until the detective repeated his question.

"I know what I shall do!"

"What will you do?"

"Roam the beach until all hope of the recovery of your body is passed and then I shall lie down and die." She spoke in a weird, despairing tone.

"And you have known me but a few hours."

"Yes, I have known you to speak to you but a few hours, and yet I have come to believe that all the dreams of my life center in you."

The young man advanced and seized the girl's hand; the latter made no effort to withdraw it from his firm grasp.

"Renie," he said, "you need have no fear, I am not destined to die at the hands of the smugglers. I am assigned to a certain duty, the opportunity to fulfill my mission is now presented. I shall go on the yacht to-night, but when she returns I will return with her!"

"You are determined to go?"

"I am."

"I shall say no more, but I shall watch."

"Yes, Renie, do so; and when the yacht comes sailing up the bay, you may know that I come on her."

"I shall not watch for the return of the yacht," said the girl in a sad, despairing tone.

"What will you do?"

"Wait on the beach to see what the waves will bring me. If, when the deed is done, the tide be flowing in, I may gain something from the waves; but if the tide is on the ebb, I shall never gaze on your face again."

There was no mistaking the girl's weird meaning, and her words were practical, as she well knew the results which under certain circumstances might follow the tidal conditions.

Spencer Vance saw that it was useless to waste further words with Renie and he said

"A few hours will tell the tale, Renie, and—"

The detective did not complete the sentence; voices were heard and Renie exclaimed:

"You and I must not be seen talking together; farewell, and if we never meet again on earth, may we meet where there are no clouds, no shadows, no mysteries." The girl moved away and left the detective standing alone on the beach. The sun had gone down, the moon was just rising out of the sea, and the whole surrounding scene was impressive and one of solemn grandeur.

The detective stood motionless, and the ceaseless murmur of the waves, as they broke upon the shore sounded like a requiem in his ears; but not once did he waver in his purpose. It might be that Renie would prove a true prophet, and if the tide served right those very waves, or rather their successors, might cast his body upon the shore; but despite all, he was determined to sail on the "Nancy" that night to win or die.

Two hours later there was quite a bustle on board the yacht as she was being prepared to sail away.

The trip of the "Nancy" did not as a rule, exceed ten or fifteen hours, as she only ran twenty or thirty miles directly off the coast, where she cruised around waiting for the signal to flash across the water front some incoming vessel, said signal being an intimation as to the character of the craft.

Ike Denman, as commander of the "Nancy," was a different man from Ike Denman carousing with the crew ashore.

The "Nancy" was what nautical men would call a magnificent craft, and landsmen would naturally dub her a "daisy." She had been built as a sea-going boat, in the most substantial manner, and was indeed a stanch little mistress of the sea.

It was a beautiful evening as the mainsail was hoisted away and the gallant boat glided over the waters of the bay across the bar, and through the ruffled channel out to sea.

The detective had weighed well the words of the beautiful Renie, and was on the watch. Her suggestion was apt, and, as the detective thought over matters, he came to think that certain little indexes pointed toward a confirmation of her suspicions.

Indeed, it was an awful peril he was facing, were it really a fact that the men had "tumbled" to his identity, and were giving him a "blind," leading him, only waiting for the proper moment to cast off their masks and throw him into the sea.

There was one incident in his favor: the men were not at all reserved in the discussion of the business on hand. They talked over the purpose of the night, and opened up their expectations in the most unreserved manner.

The master of the craft, in his orders, made no distinction between our hero and the other members of the crew.

Meantime the boat danced over the waves, and, after an hour or two, was cruising across the track of inward-bound vessels.

Soon there came the announcement of the lights of a vessel, and the "Nancy" was cautiously run on a course which would enable her captain to take observations.

The lights proved to be those of an ocean steamer, and the great leviathan, with its precious freight of human souls, plowed past the taut little yacht distant only half a mile.

When the lights were first seen, the detective was standing forward of the mainmast, and suddenly a pallor overspread his face. If it should prove that the lights were those of an incoming smuggler, the critical moment had arrived for him.

Our hero was intently watching the lights, as were the balance of the crew, waiting for a signal, and so absorbed was he as not to observe the presence of Sol Burton close by his side.

A few moments passed, and the lights were made out, and the word was passed around, "It's a steamer!"

The detective turned to go aft, when he found himself face to face with Sol Burton.

The two men had met as comrades once or twice before, during the two or three hours the boat had been out on the sea, but not a word had passed between them; but as they met after the distinguishing of the lights, Burton addressed our hero and said:

"You're the new man?"

"Yes," was the short answer.

"Your first trip on the 'Nancy?'"

"Yes,"

There was a premonition, of danger in the next words of Sol Burton.



CHAPTER XVIII.

"I think I've seen you before, Ballard!"

Sol Burton spoke in slow and very distinct tones, and his manner betrayed that there was a deep significance in his declaration.

"If you remember having seen me before, you have the advantage, my good friend."

"I think I've seen you before. I met you on board the 'Nancy.'"

"Where?"

"I cannot recall, but there is something in your face that strikes me as very familiar."

The detective laughed in an easy manner, and answered

"Well, you'll have to depend upon your own recollections, I can't aid you to a recognition."

As the detective spoke he remembered Renie's warning words, "Sol Burton, I fear, has his suspicions aroused."

"I noticed you turn pale when we first sighted the lights, Ballard."

"Did you?"

"I did."

Ballard stepped close to Sol Burton, and demanded in a determined tone

"What are you getting at? I don't like this cross-questioning."

"That's my idea, Ballard. I don't think you like this cross-questioning, and I think further there is a good reason for you not liking it."

"If you've anything to say to me, spit it."

"When did you first show up on the coast?"

"Who are you? What's your name?" retorted Ballard.

"My name is Sol Burton,"

"Ah, you are Burton; yes, I've heard about you!"

The detective used the words, "I've heard about you," in a very meaning tone.

"You've heard about me?"

"Yes, I've heard about you," came the response.

"What have you heard about me?"

"Oh, that's all right; your name is Sol Burton. Yes, yes, I've heard about you."

The declaration was reiterated in a tone of more aggravating significance.

"See here, Ballard, I want you to tell me what you mean."

"I've heard about you."

"What have you heard about me?"

"It's all right; I tell you I've heard about you. Yes, yes, your name is Burton; that's the man; I've heard about you."

Our readers can readily understand that the constant repetition of the declaration in a meaning tone was, under the circumstances, very aggravating, and Sol Burton lost his temper, his eyes flashed with anger, and his face became white, as he said:

"If you do not tell me what you mean, I'll knock you down!"

"I reckon you won't knock me down!"

"Will you tell me what you mean?"

"I'll tell you I've heard about you, and so I have; that is enough."

"See here, Ballard, it won't do for you to quarrel with me!"

"I don't care who I quarrel with!"

Burton advanced and whispered:

"I might come 'Quaker' on you, and give you a bad name."

"You can do just as you choose. I am not asking odds of you."

"I've my suspicions of you, Ballard."

Burton spoke in a hoarse whisper; the man was excited and trembling with rage and irritation.

It is possible a tragic denouement might have followed the dialogue, had there not come just at that moment a startling interruption to the impending quarrel.

Again there came the signal cry: "Lights ahead!" and all hands ran eagerly to the rail to study the character of the distant craft.

All was silent watchfulness and expectancy as the two boats approached nearer and nearer across the dark waters. Suddenly there shot up high into the air a rocket and when far toward the clouds, a "bomb burst in air," and there followed a shower of many colored lights.

At once there was great excitement on board the "Nancy." Sol Burton had not stopped to finish his threatening talk with our hero, but all was bustle and excitement and work.

The boats were prepared for launching, and the ship's course was changed, and our hero knew that the, long-expected smuggler had arrived.

Soon the two vessels approached each other; additional signals were exchanged, and the real purpose of the voyage was unfolded.

The smuggler kept upon her course, under close reefed sails, but her crew was busy casting certain curious looking packages into the sea.

The boats from the "Nancy" were launched and manned, and were pulled away toward floating objects that had been cast upon the water.

Our hero was in one of the boats, and soon his crew came upon one of the floating objects and it was hauled into the boat.

One of the methods and mysteries was explained; the floating objects were large rubber and guttapercha bags, water-tight and unsinkable, and in these waterproof sacks was packed the contraband merchandise.

Four boats were at work, and within a couple of hours no less than thirty-three of these sacks were put on board the "Nancy," containing thousands and thousands of dollars worth of goods that were never intended to pay duty to good old Uncle Sam.

All the bags were put on board, and the "Nancy" was ready to run into the bay and land her contraband cargo.

The detective expected she would run back on the course over which she had come out, but such was not the fact; on the contrary she lay to until all the goods were stowed below.

Spencer Vance had worked like a trooper, and for the time being, was the most active smuggler of them all, but later on he was brought face to face with his peril.

Our hero had finished all he had been called upon to do, and was standing leaning against the mast, when Ike Denman approached and said:

"Come aft, Ballard, I've a few words to exchange with you."

The detective obeyed with alacrity; coming to a halt near the cabin-way, Denman said:

"Ballard, you have proved yourself a good hand. I like you, but I've a statement to make; you can't share in the profits of tonight's work unless you become one of us."

"How's that, sir?"

"We are a regular organization; the crew of this boat is bound to secrecy by oaths and obligations, and I am about to give you the privilege of becoming one of us."

"The detective realized his peril. He saw that the game had opened, that Renie's warnings were about to be fulfilled but he was cool and easy and determined. It was a terrible moment, but he was as resolute as ever and replied:

"That wasn't in the programme, captain."

"What wasn't in the programme?"

"It wasn't stated that I was to take any oaths or obligations."

"I'll admit that, but it's necessary."

"You ought to have told me before I came with you on this trip."

"That is so, but I didn't; but you have come with us; you are here in our midst, you are posted as to our game, and now what are you going to do about it, Ballard?"



CHAPTER SIX.

"I am not prepared to answer at present. I must have time to think," was the answer made by our hero.

"What at do you want to think about?" demanded Denman.

"I wish to consider whether or not it will pay me to become a permanent member of your crew."

"You disappoint me, Ballard."

"How so?"

"I've given you a good chance, and I expected you would say all right at a jump. I've something to tell you; suspicions are aroused concerning you. I don't believe, myself, they are just, and I hope you will make good my conclusions."

"Suspicions concerning me?"

"Yes."

"Who suspects me?"

"One of the crew says you are a spy."

"Will you bring the man face to face with me?"

"What would you do?"

"When I meet my accuser I will tell you."

"You can save yourself the trouble."

"How?"

"By becoming one of us. I will deal fairly with you. Our obligations are as binding as blood and oaths can make them; but, once one of us, you'll make heaps of money, and be companion to as jolly a set of men as ever took chances for a good livelihood."

"I must bind myself by oaths?"

"Yes; oaths as solemn as mortal lips ever uttered."

"I can't do it now."

"Why not?"

"I must have time to consider."

"Why do you need time to consider?"

"I've a reason."

"Will you name your reason?"

"Yes, I will, captain; you have been frank with me, I will be equally frank with you. I can't join your crew as long as one man is a member of it. I learn that I've an enemy on board. I never can take an obligation that would compel me to be friendly with that man!"

"Who is the man?"

"The villain who has accused me of being a Government spy!"

"How do you know which is the man?"

"I know."

"I am sorry, Ballard, I know I am to blame. I should have mentioned before what I am telling you, but there is no alternative now; you must join our crew in regular form."

"Never as long as one particular man is one of them."

"Mine is an unpleasant duty, Ballard, you have got all the points down on us, you must become one of us."

"What do you mean?" demanded the detective.

"The men demand that you join us."

"I will not. You will give me a chance for my life?"

"What chance do you want?"

"I wish to prove that my accuser is a liar."

"That would not help you, unless you become one of us; the fact that you have learned our methods settles the business, whether you are an informer or not. We run from here to the place where our goods are landed; you would have all the points down on us, and were you my own brother, it would be necessary for you to join us or be silenced. Now what will you do?"

"Give me half an hour to think the matter over."

"I've no right to give you any time."

"I can't run away, captain."

"I know, but I'd like to go back and make good my declaration in your favor. I'd like to tell the men it's all right, and that you will become one of us."

"On one condition I will take your oaths and obligations."

"What is your condition?"

"Let me settle my quarrel with the man who is my enemy."

"I never could consent to that; and besides, I must say that the fact of your suspecting a certain man as having informed against you, lends color to the charge. Ballard, you must join us or die."

Spencer Vance was still calm, and did not betray one particle of trepidation as he answered:

"I should have been informed of your requirements before I was permitted to ship with you."

"I made a mistake. I admit that I am responsible!"

"Are you willing to take the responsibility?"

"How can I?"

"Give me a chance for my life."

"How can I?"

"Make it a gauge of life or death between you and me."

Ike Denman laughed, and answered: "Why, man, you are crazy!"

"Not crazy enough to pay the penalty of your mistakes with my life!"

There was a threat in the tones of the detective.

"What do you demand?"

"Your word of honor."

"To bind a promise?"

"Yes."

"What shall I promise?"

"That I shall meet my accuser face to face on this deck; let us decide who is the spy and the traitor!"

"That wouldn't do, Ballard, and I am wasting time. Your chances are easy enough. All I ask is that you become one of us. Refuse, and I will be compelled to pass you over to the crew."

"And what will they do?"

"Try you."

"Try me for what?"

"Try you as a traitor."

"But I am no traitor."

"You are in our midst, and not one of us; that fact alone will be accepted as proof of your guilt."

"And I can escape by joining your crew?"

"Yes."

"I refuse."

"Have you considered well?"

"I am resolved not to join while my enemy is one of your number."

"You are throwing your life away."

"SO be it, but you go first!"

Ike was taken all aback, but did not lose his head. He raised his hands toward his lips intending to sound a whistle, but he was restrained by Vance, who said:

"Move or make the least signal and you are a goner."

"Aha! the charge is true," said Denman in a low tone.

"You inveigled me on board this craft. You are in collusion with a man who wishes to get rid of me. There is no chance for me and there is none for you!"

"What do you mean by your statement that I am in collusion with your enemy?"

"I see it all. I was invited on this boat by you. Well, let it go so, but, Denman, you will not live to triumph over me. Nothing on land or sea can save you. I've got the bead on you dead!"

"What do you demand"

"Your word that I shall stand face to face with my accuser."

"And then?"

"If he sticks to his charge, let him be my executioner."

"This is your demand?"

"Yes, this is my demand."



CHAPTER XX.

It was a critical moment; both men were cool and spoke in deliberate tones.

They stood alone: well toward the after-deck, while the men were all busy forward and below handling the contraband cargo.

The night was calm; the sea was unruffled; not a cloud intervened between sea and moon and stars, and yet two human lives hung in the balance—the lives of two brave men.

The detective was greatly disappointed. He had not accomplished all he desired. He had hoped not to be discovered until the schooner landed her cargo, and he had fallen upon the rendezvous and the mode of transport to the city. Still he had obtained a large amount of information, facts which he could work up; and could he only get ashore alive, he would be able to run down close on the real backers of the contraband business, who were a band of foreigners who only made their money by illicit traffic in New York, to spend it abroad.

The chances, however, for getting ashore were very slim. He had dared a little too much, and yet at that very moment the undaunted officer was playing a deep game.

Under a close reef the boat was heading in toward shore, and the detective was operating to gain time, as every ten minutes increased his chances of eventual escape.

After the detective's declaration, "Your own life will pay the forfeit!" there followed a moment's silence Vance would not break; time to him was precious while the yacht lay upon her inward course.

"You are a traitor, Ballard, you are a Government spy!"

"Who says so?"

"The charge has been made."

"Let me meet the man who makes the charge."

"And then?"

"I have made my demand. I am to receive your word that. I shall have a fair chance to settle the matter with him."

"Your request is reasonable."

"It is."

"Why not join us and then make your demand?"

"I will never join a crew with that man; this is a trumped-up charge against me to satisfy private malice."

"Why does your accuser seek to accuse you falsely?"

"I am too much of a man to bring my private quarrel to public notice; captain, the matter stands here; you know I'm no tyro; as matters stand, I am doomed; against you and your crew out here at sea I've no chance for my life; but as the chances have turned, I can guarantee fair play ashore."

"You shall meet your accuser."

"And have a fair show?"

"Yes."

"I have your word, captain?"

"You have my word."

"Good enough, you have saved your life! I'll trust your word; if you go back on me, may the sharks soon crunch your living bones."

"You stand here, I'll bring the man aft."

"Good enough."

The captain went forward; the detective stood calm and patient, but his eyes were upon the master of the "Nancy." He saw Denman speak to the men, and then he saw the crew start in a body toward the afterdeck. Denman had proved false, the smuggler had forfeited his word.

"It's now or never," muttered the detective, and he sprung beside the rudder port and stood upon the stern rail. His form towered up through the night like an apparition, as he called in a loud tone:

"You and I will meet again, Denman. Sol Burton is a liar."

Head first the intrepid detective dove from the vessel down into the water, and when he came to the surface he was beyond range, as the yacht was moving along with moderate speed in one direction, while our hero was swimming under water in an opposite course.

"Lower away the boat!" shouted Sol Burton.

The men ran to obey, but at that moment lights were seen, and one of the men shouted:

"It's a cutter!"

Ike Denman heard the latter shout, and commanded:

"Hold fast there the boats!"

The crew had not time to take up a boat when the cutter was bearing down upon them.

"That man can never get ashore," said an old tar; "No living man in full toggery can go over the side of this boat and ever come unaided out of the sea!"

"The cutter may pick him up," suggested Sol Burton.

"More likely to pick us up! No, no, he'll be down on the bottom before the cutter gets around, and she will not run within five miles of where he went over, if she heads her course to overhaul us."

"It's not a cutter," said Sol Burton.

"Well, let it go so; that man Ballard is with the angels by this time," came the response.

Meantime the detective was moving like a fish through the calm waters toward the shore.

It was a smooth sea, and only a fifteen-mile swim, and he had gone aboard the yacht prepared for the venture.

When Spencer Vance sprung overboard, he was oiled from his ears to his heels, and his clothing was ready to be peeled down to an oil-skin under-suit, lined in the inner side with soft wool.

Like a fish he cut through the waters, and his heart was as brave as his sweeping stroke, as he propelled himself forward toward she shore.

"It's all right, Johnny," he muttered, as he spurted some sea water from between his lips. "I'll keep my word. I'll interview Ike Denman when he is not looking for me; and, as to Sol Burton, I'll catch that man some day!"

The detective swam along merrily, and, in less than four hours after having leaped from the yacht, he crawled upon the beach, and lay down in the warm sand to rest, burying himself like a mole; and there he lay for over an hour, when he rose to his feet, and started to walk down the coast. He was not sure of the distance he would be compelled to travel, but was assured as to the direction he was to take.

Our hero was quite proud of his achievement, but felt a little blue when he observed a storm coming in rapidly from the sea; but his luck did not desert him. He saw a deserted cabin, toward which he made his way, and it didn't take him long to gather a lot of twigs and drift, and, upon reaching the cabin, he made a fire, and sat down before the cheerful blaze, as comfortable an individual as ever took a long chance in the way of duty.

Once in the cabin, the brave man betrayed the ingenuity of his preparations for his perilous Venture, and verified ed his confident statement to Renie, that she need have no fear, as in good time he would come ashore again to tell the tale of his adventure.



CHAPTER XXI.

The detective had a thin rubber belt stretched under his arms; the latter served as a buoy and as a receptacle for the necessary articles which he knew he would require when he washed shore.

Within the belt he had found matches, and weapons, and clothing, the latter of thin material wound as tightly as cotton on a spool; and, as stated, as the fire burned and blazed and crackled, he felt quite comfortable; and, as the storm broke over his cabin, a warm glow of satisfaction circulated through his frame.

"This is just jolly!" he muttered, as he ate away at a good sandwich, and, later on, from his treasure belt he drew forth pipe and tobacco and settled down for a smoke.

The whole face of the sea, meantime, had changed; a fierce storm had arisen; the wind howled and the rain beat clown against his refuge, and the noise of the storm but sent a warmer glow to his heart.

Our hero realized that he had reached shore just in time. The tempest had held back for him, as it were, as, had it come upon him while in the sea, no power on earth could have saved him.

Ensconced in his deserted. cabin with a glowing fire, his pipe, and a wee drop of whisky, the roar of the tempest was music in his ears, and lulled him to a peaceful slumber from which he was rudely aroused, later on, by a punch in the ribs. The detective awoke, leaped to his feet, and confronted a powerful-looking man in an oil-skin suit.

"Hello! who are you, and what are you doing here?" came the inquiry from the stranger.

"These are just the questions I'm putting to you," answered our hero.

"Well, stranger, my questions are first, I reckon."

"You're right; but tell me, am I in your quarters?"

"No, not exactly; this shanty was built for common use; but where did you come from?"

"I came from the sea."

"You're a man, you're not a fish; how did you come in from the sea?"

"I swam in."

"Has there been a wreck?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Well, you're talking riddles; suppose you get down to plain United States lingo."

"I fell overboard and was compelled to swim or sink."

"What sort of a craft did you come over from?"

"A yacht."

"A pleasure yacht?"

"Well, yes."

"And you weren't picked up?"

"If I had been I wouldn't be here."

"That's so. How far were you off shore?"

"Not very far."

"You must have gone over before the storm set in."

"I should say so; and now as I've answered your questions, who are you?"

"I am a fisherman. I ran into the cove on account of the storm, and came over here to stay until daylight, or later if the storm holds."

"I reckon the storm won't hold much longer; it's only a passing tempest, and so make yourself comfortable. Will you have a bite"

"Thank you, I had food with me in my boat."

"Will you cover a little whisky."

"I will!" came the hearty acceptance.

The two men had a long, pleasant talk, and our hero soon learned that his new acquaintance was a really honest fisherman—good, square man; and there are many of them on the Long Island coast, and no truer and better men can be found in any quarter of the globe.

When fully satisfied that the man was an honest fellow, our hero opened up a certain subject with him.

"Taylor, did you run across a gang of smugglers in your experience along the coast?"

"You can just bet I have run across them; and, between you and me, it is an easy matter to put my hand on the key that locks the door of their secret warehouse."

"You can do that?"

"I can."

"How is it you have never communicated with the Government?"

"Well, I'll tell you. I've always been afraid it might get me into some sort of a scrape. You see, I am a man of family, and couldn't afford to lose any time."

"I'll let you into a secret."

"All right."

"I'm a Government officer."

"Whew! is that so? Well, I might have suspected as much. And so you did not come in from the sea, but you're lying around here expecting to discover something? You're on the wrong part of the coast, however; this is not the spot for you to lay. I can give you a better point."

That's just what I'm looking for."

"I don't know, however; I might get myself into trouble."

"No fear of that; you need only act as a guide to me."

"Well, I'll think it over."

The detective began to grow a little suspicious of his new friend; there was a possibility that he had concluded as to the fisherman's honesty a little too soon.

"There is no need for you to consider, as a good citizen you owe it as a duty to the Government."

"That's so, but I owe more to my family; some of the gang are neighbors of mine, and if it were ever known that I betrayed their hiding-place, it would go hard with me."

"No one will ever know that you betrayed them; we will go secretly to their rendezvous; you will point out the spot to me, and I will manage the rest, and you will be well paid for your service."

"And you are a Government officer?" I am.

"Tell me the true story of your being here."

"I cannot tell you more than I have already revealed."

"I am to be paid if I point out the rendezvous?"

"Yes, well paid!"

"And I am only to locate the place?"

"That is all."

"I will do it."

"When?"

"At once, or as soon as the tempest ceases."

"The storm is most over now."

"I will sail in my boat to the nearest point, we will have to go the balance of the way overland."

"That is all right."

"But remember, no attempt at seizure must be made within twenty hours after I have located the warehouse!"

"That is all right; and now tell me, do you know any of the principals?"

"How do you mean?"

"I will tell you; no harm will come to the actual smugglers, beyond the breaking up of their business; it's the men who furnish the capital that I am after."

"I can put you on the track of one or two of them."

"Do so, and you will make a small fortune."

"But I will become a regular informer."

"Did you ever belong to one of the gangs?"

"Never."

"Then it makes no difference to you, as you will never be known in the matter. How far is your boat from here?"

"Five minutes' walk."

"When shall we start?"

"It will soon be daylight; we had better wait until dawn."

"All right, and we will improve the hour or two we have remaining of darkness by a refreshing sleep."



CHAPTER XXII.

One adventure had led forward to another, and again to another, until the detective was well on his road toward the point where he could make a "closing in" attack.

He knew it would be a grand thing for him to run the gang clear down to their bottom methods.

The detective had been keeping tireless vigils, and sleep was what he most needed, and two good hours of undisturbed sleep was as much to him as seven or eight to an ordinary person.

He was aroused by Taylor, and upon awaking and looking out, he saw that it was broad daylight, and indeed a bright and beautiful morning.

Taylor had been up some time; he had been to his boat, and had brought back the necessary articles for a good breakfast, and our hero was summoned to as solid a morning meal as he had ever enjoyed.

After breakfast the two men went to where Taylor's boat lay, a large and stanch little mainsail and jib boat, rough in appearance, but a good sea boat and a fast sailer.

The captain of the little craft steered her through the channel, and was soon running across the famous Great South Bay, and later on our hero found himself in one of those many famous Long Island sea-coast towns, where summer boarders made merry the passing hours of the July and August months.

Taylor took our hero to his own home, and introduced him to a cleanly and interesting family.

"When do we start?" demanded Vance, after indulging in a good, and really substantial dinner.

"We will take the two o'clock train," was the reply.

Our readers will observe that we do not name localities, and we have a good reason. Within the last few months smuggling has been resumed, and the government is adopting measures once more to suppress the traffic, and we have decided that the interest of our narrative does not demand more specific details.

To those of our readers who are acquainted with the Long Island coast, it is not necessary to name the several localities; as, from passing hints, they will be able to locate the several points; and readers who live afar would be no wiser were we to name towns, and designate exact localities.

It was late in the afternoon when our hero and his friend, Taylor, stood on the shore of another one of the several famous bays that indent Long Island's sea shore; and, what seems still more startling, about half a mile off shore lay the yacht "Nancy."

Our hero and his companion were at the point when the taut little smuggler ran down from the inlet, and came to an anchor oft the shore.

At the time the place had not become as great a resort as at present, and the hordes of pleasure-seekers, who now, during certain seasons of the year dwell on the coast, little dream of the wild scenes, and wilder orgies that occurred thereabouts a few years back.

Taylor and the detective had crossed the bay to the island and were hidden in the brush that fringed the bluff overlooking the shore, when the "Nancy" ran down as described and came to an anchor.

"There's the smuggler!" exclaimed Taylor as he first caught sight of the yacht.

"Yes, there's the 'Nancy' as sure as you are born," returned the detective.

"Ah, you know her?"

"I reckon I do."

"There's a bad lot on that boat."

"There is a bad lot; they are a crew of murderer and bandits."

"They do great harm to our legitimate business, and good honest men are constantly annoyed by the cutters who hail and search them almost daily."

"We will soon put that crew out of harm's way," remarked the detective.

"She's loaded," said Taylor.

"How loaded?"

"She's got contraband cargo beneath her decks."

"How do you know?"

"She never runs in here only when she comes to put her goods ashore."

"Don't the people over on the mainland know of her business?"

"Well, a few may suspect, but I don't believe they know; you see she will put in a load of produce, take a regular cargo from here, and the most of the people think she's an honest coaster. I've known her to get freight from a regular shipping company in New York, and deliver an assorted cargo, simply as a blind."

"How is it you chanced to run her down to her real business, and get all the points so dead on the crew?"

"My first discovery was accidental, and since then I just investigated a little for my own satisfaction."

"How long has she been engaged in this traffic?"

"About two years; previous to that the business was broken up and nothing was done for a long time; but about two years ago, the 'Nancy' was manned and put under the charge of Denman, who is an old smuggler, and I believe that man could be worth thousands upon thousands, but they say he goes to New York and gambles and sports all his money away; but he must handle a good pile in the course of a year."

"I see his crew is made up of all nationalities?"

"Yes; but they are mostly West Indians, not natives, but fellows raised down among the Islands."

"When will she run her cargo ashore?"

"To-night, and she will do it so quickly that you'd hardly know her crew had been at work."

"It's a wonder they have never been discovered."

"I reckon they have been, but Denman practices the old Captain Kidd maxim: 'Dead men tell no tales.'"

"Has he dared to kill anybody?"

"Well, men have been missing around here, and later on, they have been found floating in the bay, and the people have always concluded they were cases of drowning while drunk; and I always thought so myself, until about two months ago, when I fell to a suspicion."

"Did you never tell your suspicion?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was waiting a chance to verify it."

"You think it would cost a man his life to be caught by those fellows?"

"That's my idea."

The detective had made some important discoveries, and, among others, he had "piped" down to the fact that the crew of the "Nancy" were as desperate and blood-thirsty a set of scoundrels as ever ran in and out of Long Island even with that famous buccaneer, Captain Kidd.

"About how many men have been missing at different time?" asked our hero.

"It's hard to tell; but the crew of the 'Nancy' could tell some fearful tales if they were to open their mouths."

The detective was destined to go to the bottom of the mystery.

The place selected by the men for their work was one of the most lonely and desolate on the whole coast at that time.

Taylor informed our hero that they would not unload from where they were anchored; he said:

"They will run down around the point yonder, put their cargo ashore, and then sail back and reanchor where you see them now. I tell you they make quick work of it."

"But cannot see how they escape detection."

"Oh, they have plenty of confederates; the gang is not composed alone of the men who sail in the 'Nancy'."

"Then we must lay low until night falls"

"Yes."

The detective encountered some thrilling adventures ere another sunrise.



CHAPTER XXIII.

The detective's friend, Taylor, appeared disinclined to remain; he said:

"I only promised to point out to you the rendezvous.

"Have you done so?"

"Yes."

"I do not know where the landing is made."

"Off yonder point."

"Around in the cove?"

"Yes."

"You can remain with me?"

"No, I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Well, this is no place for strangers; we are in peril every moment we stay here."

"We are all right, so long as the crew of the 'Nancy' remain on their boat."

"Not to-night; we are not safe."

"Why not?"

"Because the 'Nancy' is there. Why, sir; we do not know what moment someone may spring upon us! All their spies are out and on guard to-night; everything is watched as a cat watches a mouse-hole!"

"If you leave me, how am I to get over to the mainland?"

Taylor did not make an immediate reply, and the detective repeated his question.

"I did not think you intended remaining."

"What did you think?"

"I thought you would mark down the bearings and come here in force."

"But, as I've an opportunity to get the whole business down fine, I propose to remain."

"Then you will need a boat."

"Yes, I will, surely, in the morning."

"No, sir."

"What are you getting at?"

"I will speak plainly. If you remain here you will never see the mainland again. I tell you those men are a desperate lot!"

"But they will not find me."

"The chances are ten to one against you, and that they will find you. I would not remain here to-night for a hundred thousand dollars! The danger begins exactly at nightfall."

"You have got it down as fine as that, eh?"

"I have."

"If you take away the boat, you will take from me what chance I might have for escape."

"You must not remain."

"But I shall!"

"You are determined?"

"I am."

"Very well, I will leave you the boat; by walking about four miles I can find a way to cross over to the mainland."

"I wish you were a braver man."

"I have a family."

"That settles it!" exclaimed the detective, and he added, "as you are going away you had better go now."

It was near sundown, and there lay the "Nancy" on the calm waters of the bay, looking to be as harmless a craft as rested on a keel.

"Can I not persuade you to go with me?"

"No, sir."

"You cannot fully realize the danger."

"Hang the danger! I've a duty to perform, and I'll stay here and see that cargo put ashore from the 'Nancy,' even if it prove the last scene of my life!"

"The chances are that such will prove to be the fact; I warn you that the danger cannot be denied."

"Well, you had better go if you have four miles to travel before sundown."

"Have you any messages to leave?"

"None."

"Who am I to report to in case you are never seen alive?"

"You are taking a serious view of it."

"I am; I tell you it's certain death for a stranger to remain on this island to-night!"

"Suppose the stranger is not discovered, my good friend?"

"You are certain to be discovered. The whole island will be patrolled."

"You speak like a man who has had some dire experience."

"I would not remain on this island to-night for the fall value of it in dollars."

"Why do you specify to-night?"

"Oh, any other night it would be all right, but as you know, it is a business evening to-night, and they will be all on guard."

"I must take the chances."

"Well, good-bye; I go now."

"Good-bye; I will call and see you to-morrow and pay you your reward."

"I hope you may, but I never expect to see you again. What I recommend is that you guide the cutter to this place—"

"I must first know just where to guide them."

"Come here in force, and with all the knowledge you have you will soon find the right place."

"I will come here in force in good season, but to-night I take points alone."

"Good-bye."

"All right, good-bye."

Taylor spoke in a very solemn tone, and wore a solemn look upon his face as he walked away.

The sun was just on the edge of the horizon when our hero found himself alone.

"Well, well," he muttered, "I have been a lucky man. I've got this business right down to the right point, and with the additional information I shall gain I will be king of the mystery."

The detective was highly delighted with his prospective success, and with wonderful patience under all the circumstances, he awaited the approach of night.

From his position on the bluff, he commanded a full view of the smuggler yacht, and it was with a sweet unction to his soul that he remembered his words to Denman and his crew: "I shall see you again!"

He felt that he would come upon the smugglers at the proper moment, like an apparition fresh from a new-made grave. The men he knew believed him dead, and he well remembered the proverbial superstition of sailors, and it struck him that the time might come when it would stand him in hand to take advantage of the startling shock that would certainly attend his reappearance before that murderous crew.

Night fell, and the detective strained his eyes to watch the movements on board the "Nancy."

The men, as he discovered, were playing their game well; at the proper hour their lights were set, and all the necessary precautions taken for a vessel which proposed to lay at anchor all night in a water way.

The detective was still on the watch, while the hours slowly glided away until near midnight, when he saw certain movements on board the boat that warned him she was about to change her position.

The detective, who had been lying on the grass rose to his feet, prepared to follow the movements of the "Nancy," when he was suddenly confronted by an armed man.



CHAPTER XXIV.

The detective was momentarily taken all aback. The stranger came upon him suddenly.

One fact was established: the man had been the first to make the discovery of the presence of the detective, and his good luck gave him, seemingly, the advantage.

For a moment the two men stood gazing at each other under the starlight.

The silence was broken by the armed man, who said:

"Well, mister, what are you doing spying around here?"

"Who says I'm spying around here?"

"I do."

"Well, you and I won't quarrel."

The stranger had a dead bead on the detective.

"No, stranger, you and I won't quarrel, it's easy for us to come to an understanding; just tell me who you are, and what you're doing around here, or say, your prayers as quick as you can."

"Why, what do you mean, my good man?—this ain't one of the South Sea Islands! I haven't fallen in with cannibals right here in Suffolk County, New York State!"

The detective was coming the innocent dodge, and his little lead off was most excellent, and displayed great quickness and readiness of thought.

The smuggler, as later on the stranger proved to be, was set a little back by the detective's pretended innocence, but in a moment he recovered his ideas, and said:

"I think you're a thief!"

"You think I'm a thief!"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, this is a great idea, that I should be taken for a thief!"

"You don't live on the island?"

"No."

"Have you any friends here?"

"No."

"That's just what I thought. And now, give an account of yourself—what are you doing prowling around here?"

"This is a free country; a man can go where he pleases, I reckon, without giving an account of himself to every man he meets."

"If you've got any friends on the island who know you and will vouch for you, it's all right; otherwise you will give an account of yourself."

"I reckon it's none of your business what I am doing can the island. I think you had better give an account of yourself, coining upon a stranger, after dark, with pistols in your hands!"

"I can give an account of myself. I am one of a citizens' committee. Robberies have been frequent on this island of late, and we compel every stranger to give an account of himself."

"Oh, that's it, eh?"

"Yes."

"Well, arrest me, and I will give an account of myself to the proper authorities."

"I am the proper authority."

"I don't recognize your authority."

"You are any prisoner!"

"That's all right," said the detective; and, throwing up his arms, he walked toward the armed man.

The latter did not know exactly how to act under the circumstances, the detective was so cool and acted so strangely.

Our hero, however, knew what he was up to well enough, and, when within a few feet of the smuggler, he suddenly threw himself forward and grappled with the ruffian.

A struggle followed. Both were powerful men, but the detective was the most active and the coolest, and better prepared to take advantage of all chances.

Exerting himself to almost superhuman efforts, he forced the ruffian back to a great bowlder, and threw him down with such force that the man lost consciousness.

Half an hour passed.

The man lay silent and motionless like one dead, and no one came to the rescue.

The detective moved stealthily from his hiding-place to the verge of the bluff and glanced over to the spot where the "Nancy" had been riding at anchor. The boat had disappeared.

A moment Vance stood and considered. He knew that he was walking upon dangerous ground. He had received an intimation of the desperateness of the gang. After a review of the situation he walked back to where the smuggler whom he had worsted lay. The man was just beginning to show signs of returning consciousness.

"I reckon I'll render you harmless for the balance of the night," muttered the detective, and he bound the man hand and foot.

The man meantime revived, and called for water.

"Ah, you are thirsty, are you?" muttered the detective, who, after all, was a humane and merciful fellow, and he proceeded to a running rill near by and got some water in a rubber cup which he always carried about him.

The man slaked his thirst, and asked:

"Where am I?"

"You are at home, I reckon."

The smuggler, at length, appeared to realize that he had been bound, and he said:

"Who tied me up this way?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"You were set to shoot me down, and I got the better of you,"

"Ah, I remember."

"Yes, you set on me and I was compelled to serve you out."

"Release me now, it's all right."

"Oh, it's all right, eh? well, I don't think so; it's my idea you are a bad character, and I'm going to keep you here until I notify the constable or someone else. I think you are a highwayman or a robber or something of that sort; you're a bad man anyhow."

"Release me, I live upon the island. I am well known. I am no burglar or robber. I took you for one."

"Did you? well you were mistaken, and now, Mister Man, what have you got to say particular before you go to sleep?"

"Before I go to sleep! what do you mean?"

"I mean you will rest here until morning, until I can notify some of the citizens here, so they can come and take you into custody; it's my idea you are a bad character."

"You do not mean what you say; you will not leave me here?"

"I will."

"It will cost you your life."

"Will it?"

"I will follow you to the end of the world."

"That's all right, but you won't start out on your journey until after to-morrow, my friend."

"You certainly do not mean to leave me here tied in this manner"

"Yes, I do, and I'm going to insert this in your jaw, so you will rest quiet until morning."

"Hold! release me and I will forgive you."

The detective's answer was the insertion of a gag in the man's mouth, and at the, same instant footsteps were heard.



CHAPTER XXV.

Spencer Vance sprung to his feet, and stood and listened, determined to have the drop on the other man in case of danger, and not again get caught in the position he was when the first smuggler called him to account.

The intruder passed on his way without having come upon our hero and his gagged prisoner.

The detective stole after the man, but concluded he was merely a resident of the island who passed by through chance.

Returning to his man Vance made sure that He could not release himself, and then started down to the shore and moved along the beach, hoping to come upon the smugglers engaged in the unloading of their goods.

The detective traversed about four miles of coast when, far ahead of him, he saw the glimmer of dancing lights.

"Aha!" he muttered, "I've got 'em!"

He spoke in an incautiously loud tone, when a man sprung toward him.

The smugglers had put out sentinels, and our hero had run across one of them.

The sentinel proved to be a resolute fellow, as he did not stop to ask questions, but made a stroke at the detective's head.

Our hero dodged the blow, and seized the fellow;

The man struggled violently, and made several attempts to sing out an alarm, but he was in a grip of iron. The detective, however, had no time to spare. He was an overmatch for the smuggler, but at any, moment assistance might arrive. It was silence the officer needed at that moment, and he buried the fellow's head under water.

The poor fellow struggled violently, and it appeared a cruel recourse, but our hero knew that the water would render the man temporarily harmless. He did not mean to drown him.

The man's struggles finally ceased, when the detective raised his head from the water.

The fellow was not dead, but his cries were stopped for the time being—a water gag, as our hero termed it.

Vance left the man lying on the beach, and advanced more cautiously. He had crossed the line and was in the charmed circle.

Like an Indian on a trail he crawled forward, and, regardless of peril, approached quite close to the working party.

Just above the water-line was a wall of rock, and built upon the rock was a small house, and into this house the goods were carried.

The detective saw that the house was not of sufficient dimensions to hold all the goods that were carried in, and he made up his mind at the proper time to make a survey of the place and delve to the secret.

Nothing more was to be done that night. He had ascertained all he desired. He had located the rendezvous and the store-house; while on the yacht he had marked some of the goods, so that he could identify them. He had trailed down the methods, noted the active workers, and all that remained was for him to get safely off the island and trace down to the backers.

He had taken long chances, but all his risks were amply repaid by his wonderful success.

The detective, at the moment he decided to get away, was so close to the working party that he could overhear what passed between them, and while he watched he saw a figure glide into their midst.

"The dead alive!" was the under-toned exclamation that fell from his lips as he recognized the half-drowned man whom he had so successfully overcome.

At once there followed great excitement. A consultation was summoned. The man had evidently told his startling tale.

Our hero recognized Ike Denman, the traitor and falsifier, captain of the "Nancy," and he heard Ike say:

"You are sure it was not one of the islanders?"

"I am sure. I tell you I recognized the man!"

"You recognized him?"

"Yes."

"Who was he?"

"Ballard!"

A murmur of incredulousness rose from the men, and Ike Denman exclaimed:

"You have been fooled by your fancy; you have been dreaming!"

"No; I wasn't dreaming; I swear I saw Ballard, the man who went overboard from the 'Nancy' twenty miles out at sea."

"I tell you, man, you have been dreaming."

The man pointed down to his wet clothes.

"Yes, you scoundrel, you fell asleep and rolled down the bank into the water, and you saw a ghost in your dream."

"You fellows may think I saw a ghost, but I can prove I didn't. Yes, sir, prove it."

"How?"

"Bring your lanterns and come with me."

"What will you show us?"

"The man's tracks in the sand at the spot where he and I had the wrestle."

The man started for the point where our hero had first met the smuggler; had the former been less bravo and reckless he would have seized the opportunity to get away, but he was curious to witness the result of the inquiry, and he moved along to the spot where the combat had taken place, and took up a position on the bluff near enough to see and overhear.

The men with their lanterns reached the place and an examination followed.

The imprints of two pairs of feet were plainly visible. Denman made close examination, even measuring the different footprints; when he had concluded he said in a hoarse voice:

"Boys, we've been followed; there's an enemy on the island and he must never get away alive!"

By the glare of the lanterns our hero could see the men's faces, and they were pale and contorted with excitement and trepidation.

"I reckon I'll go now," he said, "it's getting rather warm around here."

The officer quietly moved away, while Denman divided his men into several squads and started them on a hunt for the spy.

The master of the "Nancy" was completely mystified. He could not understand how it was possible, under even the most extraordinary circumstances, that Ballard could be alive and upon the island. He supposed; as a matter of course, the detective was dead, and yet his man had positively sworn as to the revenue officer's identity.

"This is the most wonderful thing in all my experience!" declared the master of the "Nancy," as alone he walked back toward the landing-place of the boats.

Meantime the detective had reached a most extraordinary determination. He saw that the chances were against him if he sought to reach the boat in which he and Taylor had crossed from the mainland; and yet it ways absolutely necessary that he should have a boat. He reasoned that the smugglers would scatter all over the island, and concluded that the safest place for him was the starting-point of the searchers. It required a cool, level-headed man to decide under all the circumstances, and our hero was just the sort of man described.



CHAPTER XXVI,

The detective made sure that the men had scattered, and that the search was in full blast, when he doubled on his course and moved down toward the warehouse. Here again he displayed his reckless courage. He approached the small building on the bluff, from the rear, and entered it, and one mystery was explained—the building was but the cover to the entrance to an immense underground warehouse.

A lantern was hanging near by, and the detective seized it and descending the stairs entered a great store-house.

A sight met his gaze which filled him with amazement. His fortune was made at last; the store-house was filled with packages of valuable goods; indeed, an immense fortune lay scattered about.

Later on the detective came to learn more particularly the methods of the smugglers, but for the present as he stood there he realized that he was a wondrously lucky man, unless he should prove unlucky enough to be captured.

While standing in the subterranean store-house an idea entered his mind and he exclaimed:

"By George, that's just the scheme."

He returned to the upper room and replaced the lantern, and immediately redescended to the storehouse.

The detective had a masked lantern with him, having secured it while abiding a few hours at the home of his guide, Taylor.

Spencer Vance had determined to hide himself in the smugglers' underground warehouse. He had reached the conclusion that he could find no safer place.

Spencer Vance had struck a big scheme. Even while in such great peril, and while busy, he was revolving in his mind all the chances and contingencies; but over all loomed the possibility of discovery. There was no friendly sea to receive him should those men find him secreted in their treasure den.

The detective was like a man walking in a suspected coal mine with a lighted torch, who at any moment might strike a chamber filled with the fatal gas, which coming in contact with the light, would have blown man and mine to smithereens.

Meantime the search continued on the island, and the detective was rejoiced as he saw that, after all, the discovery of his presence was a most excellent thing, as it would lead to the eventual discovery of the real smugglers, through means which will be described later on.

Vance had measured every step as he progressed, and knew just where he would fetch out, provided he once got away from the island; but there, as stated, loomed the chance against him. His opportunity would depend largely upon the decision of Ike Denman after the return of his searching parties.

One of the searching parties was moving along looking for a trail, when a cry from one of their number brought the squad together. The man had stumbled upon the strapped and gagged smuggler.

There was a circus for a few moments after the discovery, and there followed some loud swearing, not low; but deep, fast and furious.

The man had been gagged so long it was some minutes before he could relate his sad tale.

One of the men said to him:

"Who served you out, Jim?"

When the man found voice he answered:

"The devil or one of his imps."

"Hello! did you see the ghost"

"What ghost?"

"The ghost of Ballard."

"I don't know anything about the ghost of Ballard, but I had a rough scrimmage with the gamest man I ever tackled."

"Didn't you recognize him?"

"No."

"I wonder if there are two of 'em on the island?"

"What's happened, boys?"

"Well, it's looking as though the devil himself were loose tonight."

The man proceeded and told how another of their crew had met the island mystery, and had been half drowned by him.

"I tell you," said the man, "it's going to stand us in hand to get that fellow on; the game is all dead against us, and we'll whistle for our share of prize-money."

"Come along with us and we may find our man; you can identify him?"

"Identify the devil! let me see him just one second."

The men, as a fact, failed to discover the island mystery, and different parties returned and reported to Ike Denman.

When the master of the "Nancy" heard of the laying out of another of his sentinels, his rage knew no bounds, and calling his men around him he declared;

"We must find out this fellow. He cannot have left the island."

One of the men suggested:

"We may never get a sight of him."

"If it is Ballard we can recognize him."

The men were sent away once more, and many of their passive confederates on the island were aroused and started out on the search; indeed the island became alive with secretly armed men.

Ike Denman was satisfied that the detective had not got away, and he was determined to find him. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were at stake; the fact that the detective had trailed down to their rendezvous meant ruin.

The master of the "Nancy" did not for one moment believe in his own mind that the mystery was, Ballard; his common sense suggested that it was impossible that the fellow could have escaped, unless by some strange fatality he had been picked up, and as there were no vessels near enough to see him at the time he went over from the yacht, the latter chance did not seem probable.

It was well toward morning when several of the crew, according to orders, returned and joined the captain, and the latter went aboard the "Nancy" and sailed her back to where she had previously anchored.

One man was left in charge of the yacht, and the balance, with the captain, rowed ashore and proceeded afoot to the rendezvous, and at length daylight came.

The search had proved a failure, and when it was well on in the morning all hands were assembled at the rendezvous.