Half an hour before, in the St. Germain, Arnold had no sooner received the telaphotograph than he hurried up to his room.  From a closet he had produced another of his numerous disguises and quickly put it on.  With scant white locks falling over his shoulders and long scraggly beard, he had made himself into a veritable wild man.  Then he had put on the finishing touches and had made his way toward Del Mar’s.

A look of intense anxiety now flashed over Arnold’s face as he heard Woodward’s words.

“But,” he cried, “there is an underground passage from the house to the shore.”

“The deuce!” muttered Woodward, more alarmed now than ever.  “Come, men,—­to the house,” he shouted out his orders as they passed them around the line.  “Arnold, lead the way!”

Together the soldier and the strange figure rushed to the front door of the bungalow.  All was still inside.  Heavy as it was, they broke it down and burst in.

“Walter, there’s Walter!” cried Woodward as he saw me lying on the floor of the study when they ran in.

They hurried to me and as quickly as they could started to bring me around.

“Where’s Elaine?” asked the strange figure of the hermit.

Weakly, I was able only to point to the panel.  But it was enough.  The soldiers understood.  They dashed for it, looking for a button or an opening.  Finding neither, they started to bang on it and batter it in with the butts of their guns.

It was only seconds before it was splintered to kindling.  There was the passage.  Instantly, Woodward, the hermit, and the rest plunged into it utterly regardless of danger.  On through the tunnel they went until at last they came, unmolested, to the end.  There they paused to look about.

The hermit pointed to the ground.  Clearly there were footprints, leading to the shore.  They followed them on down to the beach.

“Look!” pointed the hermit.

Off in the water they could now see the most curious sights.  Four strangely helmeted creatures were wading out, each like a huge octopus-head, without tenacles.

Only a few seconds before, Del Mar and his companions, carrying Elaine had emerged from the secret entrance of the tunnel and had dashed for the shore of the promontory.

Stopping only an instant to consider what was to be done, Del Mar had seen some one else emerge from the tunnel.

“Come—­we must get down there quickly,” he shouted, hurriedly issuing orders, as all three, carrying Elaine, waded out into the water.

At sight of the strange figures the soldiers raised their guns and a volley of shot rang out.

“Stop!” shouted the hermit, his hair streaming wildly as he ran before the guns and threw up as many as he could grasp with his outstretched arms.  “Do you want to kill her?”

“Her?” repeated Woodward.

All stood there, wonderingly, gazing at the queer creatures.