Again, Harry gazed toward the lake. He strained his eyes, watching for distant twinkles that might presage the approach of another trio of fantastic, glowing shapes.
Then came the most weird apparition of all.
Before Harry’s transfixed eyes, a weird form shot upward from the lake. Luminous in the darkness, the figure emerged from the waters, spreading its arms as it reached the air.
For an instant, it seemed to unfold itself for flight; then it wavered, and dove sidewise, disappearing as mysteriously as it had come.
Harry remembered the story of the man who had seen that very same event. This last appearance of a ghostlike form was unnerving.
Harry knew that he must return to the house; but his knees seemed weak as he started up the path; and maddened instinct told him to look behind, lest some grotesque image might arise and fall upon him.
He sincerely wished that he might be anywhere in the world but Death Island. He had been warned of danger; but he had expected it to come in physical form — not in the person of an apparition.
Never before in his life had he seen the demonstration of an apparent occult force. Even now, he could not believe that his eyes had performed their proper functions. Yet those unhuman forms had held a realism which could not be forgotten.
Groping for an explanation, Harry’s mind seized upon vain theories. Reason told him that there must be a natural cause for what he had seen.
Had Professor Whitburn developed some new form of science? Perhaps — but what could it be?