The man's struggles finally ceased, when the detective raised his head from the water.
The fellow was not dead, but his cries were stopped for the time being—a water gag, as our hero termed it.
Vance left the man lying on the beach, and advanced more cautiously. He had crossed the line and was in the charmed circle.
Like an Indian on a trail he crawled forward, and, regardless of peril, approached quite close to the working party.
Just above the water-line was a wall of rock, and built upon the rock was a small house, and into this house the goods were carried.
The detective saw that the house was not of sufficient dimensions to hold all the goods that were carried in, and he made up his mind at the proper time to make a survey of the place and delve to the secret.
Nothing more was to be done that night. He had ascertained all he desired. He had located the rendezvous and the store-house; while on the yacht he had marked some of the goods, so that he could identify them. He had trailed down the methods, noted the active workers, and all that remained was for him to get safely off the island and trace down to the backers.
He had taken long chances, but all his risks were amply repaid by his wonderful success.
The detective, at the moment he decided to get away, was so close to the working party that he could overhear what passed between them, and while he watched he saw a figure glide into their midst.
"The dead alive!" was the under-toned exclamation that fell from his lips as he recognized the half-drowned man whom he had so successfully overcome.