The Isle of Doubt

CHAPTER XIII. A MAN IN THE DARK

CROOKS with cross-purposes. They were still in Harry Vincent’s mind when darkness settled above the Mississippi River. At that particular hour, Harry was on his return journey from the spot up the river.

Harry had guided the motor boat to the right bank of the great stream. Saunders Landing was less than a mile ahead, but its wharf was hidden by a bend. Harry had chosen this course so that he could get as near to the landing as possible.

Near the shelter of the shore, Harry stopped the motor and let the boat drift.

The river was bathed in a dull afterglow, which would soon be replaced by darkness. The evening was cloudy; the starlight was faint. It was just the night that Harry wanted — when one could barely trace a course and at the same time be free from observation.

Harry’s thoughts were of the river. The young man gave no heed to the shore. As his boat drifted along, Harry had no idea that eyes were watching him from the side road that ran along the river bank. Yet an observer was there — a man who Harry would never have believed was present.

This individual had been watching for the return of the motor boat. As he saw it begin to drift, he walked swiftly along the road, keeping ahead of the slowly moving craft. The road was a short cut. The man reached the deserted landing ahead of Harry. Dropping from the side of the pier, he stepped into a small flat-bottomed rowboat and propelled it out into the bosom of the great river.

Meanwhile, Harry Vincent was drifting to his quest. A slow-motion way to get to a field of action, but the best method under these circumstances. Harry handled the rudder of the motor boat and let the little vessel swing farther into the current. He was a quarter mile off shore when he slipped by Saunders Landing.

The darkness was thickening. Objects on the river were almost invisible. The isle of doubt loomed as a black patch; beside it, Harry thought he could distinguish the River Queen.

But Harry had no idea that there was an object of interest much closer by — a tiny rowboat that was drifting with the same current which he followed.

AS THE motor boat slid past the dock in front of the plantation, Harry could see the lights of the house.

It was well after eight o’clock, and Harry felt sure that dinner was completed.

If The Shadow’s plans required but a short time, Harry could soon return. If a longer period were consumed, an explanation would have to be given; but that would be after The Shadow’s plans were consummated.

The great factor now was that Harry’s boat was drifting freely down the river. Staring toward the gloom that shrouded the little dock, Harry watched and listened for any indication that might be unfriendly. He was particularly anxious to detect the sound of oarlocks, for it was possible that Harvey Wendell might have managed to slip away at this late hour.

No sound came, much to Harry’s pleasure. Peering steadily through the night, it was possible to make out objects at close range. But Harry never looked directly astern. Hence he did not see the boat, drifting down the river in his wake.

Assured that Harvey Wendell must still be at the plantation, Harry concentrated on the space ahead.

Caught in a side current that made toward the mainland side of the cut-off, the motor boat was moving at satisfactory speed. Almost before Harry realized it, the wreck of the River Queen was visible. Harry swung the tiller and let the motor boat drift toward the derelict.

The maneuver worked to perfection. The motor boat glided into an area of reeds that marked the slope up to the swamp.

Harry was surprised to note that the boat drifted easily through the stalks until it was quite close to the River Queen. Harry knew from The Shadow’s instructions that this fringe of the swamp must be navigable for a boat of little draft, but he had expected more trouble than he actually encountered. He did not have to use an oar to wedge the boat through the muck until he was actually abreast the derelict.

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!