His idea was partially correct. It was wrong in one detail. Motkin pictured a lowlying yacht as the boat which had been waiting. Motkin was wrong in another belief. He was sure that he alone knew that the trunk had gone overboard.
On the Gasconne was a keen mind that knew what Motkin did not know. A figure was standing by the rail as the ship neared the American coast. Leaning on his cane, a kindly-faced old gentleman was beaming at the broad Atlantic.
The picture that he formed was the correct one. His mind was visioning a submarine under the guidance of Silas Helmsworth— traveling beneath the surface of the swelling ocean.
No detail had escaped The Shadow. Disguised as a ministerial old man, who was deaf, and who walked with a cane, he could have answered the questions that were perplexing crew and passengers alike.
The stolen contents of the Moscow storage vault were on their way to New York, to be delivered into the keeping of Frederick Froman.
The Shadow knew all!
CHAPTER XX. ON THE SUBMARINE
“SMUGGLED goods?”
Silas Helmsworth was the questioner. His voice sounded hollow and strained in the musty, steel-walled cabin. His companion was Frederick Froman.
“Yes,” replied the light-haired man. “Smuggled goods, Helmsworth. What of it?”