“Secret passages, eh!” exclaimed one of the officers, as he came into the room. He was a state trooper in uniform.
Joe led the way out through the opposite door and down the stairs that led toward the bottom of the cliff. The trooper who had spoken illuminated the way with his flashlight and they clattered on down the stairs until they reached the storage room. Here, everything was in confusion. The escaping smugglers had evidently endeavored to take with them what goods they could, probably the smaller packages containing drugs, for boxes and parcels were overturned and strewn about the floor.
“You seem to know this place pretty well,” said one of the troopers, as Joe led the way across to the opposite door and stepped out onto the landing.
“I’ve been here before—got in this way,” he answered. “There’s a water cave below this passage. They’ve probably made their getaway in the boat.”
They hastened down the passageway and came at last to the cave. As Joe expected, the boat was gone.
“They got away,” he said, in disappointment, as the trooper turned the flashlight on to the channel between the rocks.
There was a shout from the darkness of the cove.
“Give us a light!” they heard.
Joe gave a shout of joy. It was Tony Prito’s voice!
Then Joe and the troopers with him heard the steady beat of a motorboat.