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.

At once there followed great excitement.  A consultation was summoned.  The man had evidently told his startling tale.

Our hero recognized Ike Denman, the traitor and falsifier, captain of the “Nancy,” and he heard Ike say: 

“You are sure it was not one of the islanders?”

“I am sure.  I tell you I recognized the man!”

“You recognized him?”

“Yes.”

“Who was he?”

“Ballard!”

A murmur of incredulousness rose from the men, and Ike Denman exclaimed: 

“You have been fooled by your fancy; you have been dreaming!”

“No; I wasn’t dreaming; I swear I saw Ballard, the man who went overboard from the ‘Nancy’ twenty miles out at sea.”

“I tell you, man, you have been dreaming.”

The man pointed down to his wet clothes.

“Yes, you scoundrel, you fell asleep and rolled down the bank into the water, and you saw a ghost in your dream.”

“You fellows may think I saw a ghost, but I can prove I didn’t.  Yes, sir, prove it.”

“How?”

“Bring your lanterns and come with me.”

“What will you show us?”

“The man’s tracks in the sand at the spot where he and I had the wrestle.”

The man started for the point where our hero had first met the smuggler; had the former been less bravo and reckless he would have seized the opportunity to get away, but he was curious to witness the result of the inquiry, and he moved along to the spot where the combat had taken place, and took up a position on the bluff near enough to see and overhear.