First, I saw McGinity beach his boat at the far end of the island, where there was a small, pebbly beach. Then came a flutter of something white—Pat's scarf, or handkerchief—at the pinnacle of the ruins.
At that moment the flames died down, and myriads of sparks flew upward as the walls of the shanty collapsed. Visibility became obscure on account of the smoke. Presently I saw McGinity running up the steps, cut in the rocks, to the door of the lighthouse, the lower part of which was practically intact. I saw him enter the doorway. Then everything became indistinct in a cloud of smoke, and out of that obscurity, I saw a black figure come stealthily around the ruins, moving from the ledge of rock on the side next to the Sound, as though it had been in hiding. As it crept into the doorway, and disappeared into the dark interior of the ruins, I cried, "Oh, God!" It was Mr. Zzyx. Pat and McGinity were trapped in the lighthouse.
Standing there alone on the dock, in the biting cold and gathering gloom, and helpless to assist Pat and McGinity in their perilous position, I passed into a state of anxiety bordering on frenzy. It was only my abounding faith in the courage and resourcefulness of the reporter in meeting the situation that kept me sane. Also, I felt sure then, as I do still, that Mr. Zzyx did not go to the island in pursuit of Pat. By no possible means could he have known that she was there. Mad with fury, and out to wreck and kill, he was winding up his abnormal excitation with all the mischief he could do on the island.
It is natural to assume that when he rushed out of the castle and reached the dock, he saw in the runabout a means to further satisfy his madness for excitement; or the boat may have suggested a means of escape. As I learned afterwards, he had gone with Niki for a spin in the runabout, directly after lunch. The engine may still have been warm, for he seemed to have had no difficulty in starting it himself, and he had long ago become proficient in casting off and tying up. The fact remains that he got to the island.
Of course, from the dock, I could not see what was transpiring inside the lighthouse. But I know now what happened. As Pat told her story afterwards, she had spent about an hour on the island when she decided to row back to the mainland. The exercise of rowing, the cold, bracing wind, and quiet moments spent in wandering about the ruins, had refreshed her wonderfully. She was walking down the rocky slope to the island dock, when she saw the runabout approaching. Naturally, she suspected nothing out of the way.
"At first, I thought," she said, after it was all over, "that it must be either one of our servants, or—improbable as it seemed—Mr. McGinity. The runabout was halfway across before I recognized Mr. Zzyx.
"My first horrified thought was that he was coming after me," she went on, her voice still strained by excitement. "And to me that meant only one thing: that he was going to make an attempt on my life, using the same tactics as he had employed when he so cruelly killed my white cockatoo. He'd always seemed mild to me, and while I was afraid of him, I never considered him really dangerous. I had developed a sort of fondness for him, as I would for a big dog. But after killing my poor bird—well, that settled everything. I had decided not to spend another night in the castle while he was in it, and I was prepared to give Uncle Henry my ultimatum, and stay with friends in town, if he didn't rid the premises at once of that—killer.
"I was scared into a fit, too scared for a minute or so to think of anything to do. Then I thought of setting fire to the shanty. That's a thought that might occur to anybody in the same fix. I counted on the fire bringing someone, quickly, from the castle to the island, for I had told Aunt Jane I was going for a row, and I believed the fire would indicate that I was at the lighthouse, and in danger. I had been inside the shanty, and had noticed a barrel filled with waste paper and pasteboard boxes—probably gathered up from one of the picnic parties trespassing on the island during the summer. So I ran back, into the shack, and threw a burning match into the barrel. The flames leapt up so quickly, it was a close call getting outside without getting singed.
"I was pretty shaky by this time, so I decided to hide in the ruins. Mr. Zzyx was tying up at the dock. I could hear him chattering; he was acting very queerly. I got down, and crawled on my hands and knees, behind the rocks, until I reached the lighthouse doorway. I don't believe he saw me.
"When I got inside the ruins it was so dark I had to light a match to find my way. As I did so, something rushed at me from above, and struck me on the head. It was a big bat. I screamed, and ran up the winding, stone stairway as far as I could go. I crawled behind one of the larger stones that had fallen inside, on the third landing, and stayed there until I got my breath. The clouds were hanging so low over my head, I felt I could almost reach up and touch them. This feeling suggested something, so I climbed up on one of the dislodged stones, leaned over the broken ledge of the circular wall, and waved the white silk scarf I had been wearing under my wool jacket. Then I went back into hiding again. It wasn't any fun, hiding there, in all that uncertainty, and expecting every moment to see Mr. Zzyx coming up the steps.