The men with their lanterns reached the place and an examination followed.

The imprints of two pairs of feet were plainly visible.  Denman made close examination, even measuring the different footprints; when he had concluded he said in a hoarse voice: 

“Boys, we’ve been followed; there’s an enemy on the island and he must never get away alive!”

By the glare of the lanterns our hero could see the men’s faces, and they were pale and contorted with excitement and trepidation.

“I reckon I’ll go now,” he said, “it’s getting rather warm around here.”

The officer quietly moved away, while Denman divided his men into several squads and started them on a hunt for the spy.

The master of the “Nancy” was completely mystified.  He could not understand how it was possible, under even the most extraordinary circumstances, that Ballard could be alive and upon the island.  He supposed; as a matter of course, the detective was dead, and yet his man had positively sworn as to the revenue officer’s identity.

“This is the most wonderful thing in all my experience!” declared the master of the “Nancy,” as alone he walked back toward the landing-place of the boats.

Meantime the detective had reached a most extraordinary determination.  He saw that the chances were against him if he sought to reach the boat in which he and Taylor had crossed from the mainland; and yet it ways absolutely necessary that he should have a boat.  He reasoned that the smugglers would scatter all over the island, and concluded that the safest place for him was the starting-point of the searchers.  It required a cool, level-headed man to decide under all the circumstances, and our hero was just the sort of man described.

CHAPTER XXVI,

The detective made sure that the men had scattered, and that the search was in full blast, when he doubled on his course and moved down toward the warehouse.  Here again he displayed his reckless courage.  He approached the small building on the bluff, from the rear, and entered it, and one mystery was explained—­the building was but the cover to the entrance to an immense underground warehouse.

A lantern was hanging near by, and the detective seized it and descending the stairs entered a great store-house.

A sight met his gaze which filled him with amazement.  His fortune was made at last; the store-house was filled with packages of valuable goods; indeed, an immense fortune lay scattered about.

Later on the detective came to learn more particularly the methods of the smugglers, but for the present as he stood there he realized that he was a wondrously lucky man, unless he should prove unlucky enough to be captured.

While standing in the subterranean store-house an idea entered his mind and he exclaimed: 

“By George, that’s just the scheme.”