The Lake Mystery

by Marvin Dana

At this candid statement, Roy gaped in amazement.

“Why, how did you know she—” he began. Then, he halted in confusion. For the first time in many years, he felt himself incapable of speech.

Jake chuckled in high good nature, and deemed that explanation enough.

“Well, lick ’im good, if ye ketch ’im,” he exhorted; and straightway set out on his return to the cottage, where he and David were to serve as guards throughout the night.

Thus left to his own devices, Roy proceeded to make himself as comfortable as the circumstances of his situation would permit. He was sure that the enemy would not appear on the scene for some time yet, if at all, and in the interval before that possible coming he proposed to make himself at ease. To this end, he placed the lantern in the center of the chamber on the floor, and folded the blankets into a comfortable rug, on which he seated himself cross-legged, according to the fashion he had learned to like in the Far East. He was at pains to have the luncheon-basket conveniently placed before him, and now began an investigation of its contents with a curiosity sharpened by keen appetite. He smiled contentedly as he brought out a cold sliced fowl, fresh salad, a vacuum-bottle of hot coffee—the dozen other things that would have made a formidable array, had it not been for the strength of hunger with which he happily confronted them. As he renewed energy with this repast, Roy smiled at the contrast of its luxuriousness, as compared with many another that had been his lot in the wild places. He was alone in the wilderness, as often of old, but there the similarity ceased, for in those other places, there had been no dainties, such as the ones before him, no napkins of damask, or utensils of silver. And yet——

Roy broke off his musings, as he finished his third cigarette, and set himself to make arrangements for the night. He removed his blankets to a point against the wall of the cavern on the side opposite the entrance, where a tiny recess offered partial concealment. In this nook, he spread out the blankets, extinguished the lantern, stretched himself in a comfortable posture, and thus entered on the long vigil. He did not hesitate to doze, as he was sure that he retained his old habit of becoming alert at the faintest sound.

It was hours afterward when he became broad-awake in an instant. For a time, he lay motionless, all his senses quickened. The blackness of the chamber seemed impenetrable, yet his eyes stared steadfastly into the dark, expectant for aught that might befall. It was on hearing, however, that he depended chiefly to gather information, and his ears were set keenly. Yet, though he listened so intently, minute after minute passed, and there was no least interruption of the perfect silence.

Roy found himself in a quandary. He gave Masters credit for a shrewdness equal to the known unscrupulousness of the fellow. Undoubtedly, the engineer had lurked on some vantage spot of the shore throughout the day, and by this espionage had made himself acquainted with the progress of events on the lake. If he had perceived the landing of Margaret and Saxe on the island, as probably, almost certainly, he had, he would have known also of their long tarrying there, and of Roy’s remaining on the island. Perhaps from some elevation Masters had followed all their activities through a glass, and had been able by this method to inform himself precisely concerning the location of the cavern in which Roy was lying. Or, even, he might have come to the island, venturing in by the north-east side, so that his approach would not have been observed by the others. He could very easily have kept himself hidden afterward, as the unevennesses of the island and the profuse growth of trees and bushes offered ample concealment. But, whether the advent to the island had been earlier or later, Roy was sure that it was now accomplished, and that the engineer was there present in the chamber with him. His sixth sense spoke the assurance.

After all, it was sight, and not hearing, that at last served to guide the warden of the cavern. His eyes, which had been roving vainly in an effort to pierce the black space, suddenly caught a faintest glow. It was so indistinct, so subtly suggested rather than seen, that for a little Roy believed his vision deluded by some phosphorescence within his brain, which had set the nerves of sight to vibrating. He closed the eyelids for a moment, then looked again. The vague hint of radiance far remote still lingered. On the instant, doubt vanished; in its stead came certainty.

There could be no question that the light shone from a distance. Even the faintest spark anywhere near would have presented an appearance radically different from this. The diffusion of it was proof that its origin was in a light set a long way off. Finally, Roy guessed that the source of it was shut out from his direct vision by some obstacle intervening between him and it, while the nimbus extended beyond the barrier, and thus became perceptible. If this were, indeed, the case, it would be reasonable to suppose that the person responsible for the light was equally far away. The conclusion was by no means inevitable, but it was a fair assumption. Roy deemed himself justified in acting upon it.