“It’s a motor boat,” cried Harry.
“Heading this way, too,” declared the inspector.
“Lie low, everybody,” cautioned Jennings the next instant. “It’s the Artful Dodger, for a thousand dollars!”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE TUNNEL ENTRANCE.
The tender was a light one. It was no very hard task for the party to draw the little craft up the beach and into the concealment of a clump of bushes.
Hardly had this been done, when around the point behind which they had landed, came the craft they had heard. The night was starlit, and in the dim radiance they could see her dark outlines coming on at a good speed.
Beyond the little cove into which they had drawn the tender was a fairly high cliff, rocky and threatening. The motor boat crossed the little cove and kept straight on. No lights burned on her. Plainly her errand was not one which those on board cared to advertise.
“Great Scott! what is she going to do?” exclaimed the inspector, in a low whisper, as the motor boat kept right on across the little cove without altering her course in the least. Not one degree did she swerve from the route she was steering.
“What on earth do they mean to do?” breathed Ralph. “Run the boat smack into that cliff?”
“Looks as if they are bent on suicide,” commented Jennings uneasily.