In an instant she disappeared, and in the interval I found out how deeply and inexplicably startled I was. And then I saw her again, walking out on the natural rock bridge, and carrying some heavy object, that dragged on the rocks, in her arms.
I could see her stooped figure, and the shadow of the thing that dragged. And there is no telling under Heaven the thoughts and the terrors that swept through me as to what that dragging thing might be.
But in an instant I saw what it was. It was a rather long, heavy plank, certainly of wood. She was about two hundred feet out on the rock wall by now, and I saw that she was launching the plank to the right of the wall, in the water of the lagoon. Before I could wonder or exclaim she herself had slipped in with it, her arms pale white from the shoulders of her dark bathing suit, wading out and guiding the heavy plank beside her.
No man who had read that mysterious script could doubt what her purpose was. She had gone fourteen rods out on the wall, and then she had turned to the right into the lagoon. Plainly she was searching for Jason’s treasure.
She, too, knew the key. In that same flash of time, I understood the look of intent I had seen on her face earlier that night. She had kept her resolve—even now she was herself trying to sound the mystery of her uncle’s disappearance. I understood her own exultation when I had talked of my many scientific plans, and how I lacked means to carry them out. Even then she had likely been working on the cryptogram. It was wholly possible that either Nealman or herself had encountered a copy of the script in the old house, and they had worked on it together.
But there had been some sort of a guard put over Jason’s treasure! With what right had we been so smugly certain that the old legend was not true—that there was not still some evil, tentacled monster of the deep left to slay and drag to his cavern those that dared to penetrate the lagoon. Even now she was wading further and further from the rock wall. I could see just her head and the top of her shoulders above water, the heavy plank still guided beside her.
Fear is an emotion that speeds like lightning through the avenues of the nerves. In the instant that these thoughts went home—thoughts that would have taken moments to narrate in speech but which whipped through the mind in the twinkling of an eye—I plumbed the utter depths of fear. There can be no other word. The gray expanse seemed the waters of death itself; the whole scene, in the gray of dawn, was eerie, savage, unutterably dreadful. And the girl that had come to be my own life was even now wholly within the power of any monstrous foe that should leave its cavern to attack her.
Why had we been so sure! Why hadn’t we guarded those deadly waters every hour, day and night. Every day teaches that many things that seemed incredible a day ago are true: how had we dared to be so arrogant in regard to the legend of the lagoon. Even when three men, one after another, had disappeared without trace we had refused to change our ancient habits of thought: we had still refused to believe. I knew now the fate of the missing men. They had gone in search of Jason’s chest—and the treasure guard that dwelt in the lagoon had put them to death. And just before my eyes the girl I loved was following the path they made, making the same quest.
And in that breathless, never-to-be-forgotten moment, I heard a resounding splash of water. Against the craggy, opposite shore the water flew far and white as some living thing that had been concealed in the far crags dived toward her through the still waters of the lagoon.
The whole scene had seemingly occupied less than a second. Already, before I could breathe, I was leaping down the corridor towards the stairs. I called once for help—a door behind me opened. Then I was out in the gray dawn, racing toward the lagoon.