Lois wasn't going back to the dock. The canvas tarpaulin could make amends for her scarcity of raiment when she reached Rundon's. The sooner she brought back aid, the better. Though Barcla was gone, there still might be time to trap Rufus and another, if they were foolish enough to stay near the Castle too long.
Perhaps it was the swim that had cleared Lois thoughts. At any rate, reason told the girl that she wasn't out of danger. There could be crooks on the water, as well as on land. Looking back over her shoulder, Lois saw something that fulfilled her conviction.
A speedboat had whipped in beside the Castle dock, from the direction of Paula Lodi's. It was the craft that Lois had seen while preparing for her swim. Spurts came from it-the jabs of guns. Foolish shots, thought Lois, for she was far from range.
The flashing light was gone from the dock; the large craft, veering, was turning after Lois' boat. Its own lights went off, too, which made Lois think that the men on the dock had exchanged shouts with those in the pursuing craft, telling them to take up the chase. She didn't guess that they had exchanged shots, not shouts, to the detriment of the men on the dock.
Lois needed no light. She was bearing on a darkened stretch of shore cater-cornered across the lake; that marked the location of Rundon's cabin. She was sure that she could outdistance the craft behind her.
She looked for other boats, saw only one, indicated by tiny specks of light.
It was coming from the community house, a slow boat, bringing Rundon's friends, which meant that it must be close to nine o'clock. That boat would take at least twenty minutes to reach Rundon's; Lois could make the trip in half that time. She recalled again that this speedster she was in was the fastest thing on the lake.
Not quite. There was a craft that Lois did not know about-a slinking, silent thing that could slither through the lake with scarcely a wave behind it and touch speeds that would make it seem other than a man-made device.
It was more like a fabulous sea monster, rampant in the waters of Lake Calada; a low-built streak, awash with the very surface that it sliced. The ghost, perhaps, of some prehistoric denizen from a forgotten age.
Yet it was real, that monstrous craft, and it was actually in sight, had Lois known where to look and how to detect it. The thing was coming from another angle, gaining on the speedboat, as though hungrily seeking to devour it.
The mystery ship had been bound for Scorpio's Castle, when it veered; its hidden crew were taking up Lois' trail. Only foamy ripples revealed that men of crime were again on hand, this time seeking to thwart a rescue before The Shadow could arrive!
CHAPTER X. CRIME'S CHOICE.
FROM the shore in front of his cabin, Niles Rundon heard the loud roar of a wide-open motor and stared out toward the lake. He was expecting visitors, but not in a boat that came with a rattle like kettle-drums.
It couldn't be the crowd from the Community Center; they weren't due for a while. Besides, they had a plodding boat, and were conservative to insist on lights.
Rundon had a rickety dock, but he wasn't near it and had no time to get to it. The thing that was roaring in his direction threatened to climb the low shore and crash the cabin, which was only a dozen yards back. Hastily, Rundon found his flashlight and spotted it toward the lake.
He saw the boat and recognized it: Scorpio's speedster. The motor cut off instantly; the exhaust gave a chow, and the slim craft actually bounced toward the beach. Then, carried in by a sweep of waves behind it, the boat grounded violently. Its pilot practically hurdled over the bow, to land on the sand.
Rundon gaped at a figure clad in what seemed an enormous dressing gown; then he recognized the garb as a canvas tarpaulin, with a piece of mooring rope for a belt. He recognized Lois in the crazy-styled creation, as she came tripping toward him. He seemed to think that the girl had come from a masquerade.
'The skirt is too long,' laughed Rundon. ' I think a few tucks would improve-'
'Quick, Niles!' Lois was gripping his arm with earnest hands. 'You've got to listen! They're after me!
They'll make trouble for both of us!'
Rundon could hear another thrum from the lake. He took a quick look at Lois' improvised garb and turned her toward the cabin. He seemed to grasp much that had happened.
'Get in there,' he told her. 'Put on some dry clothes. The old outfit's there-the one you used for the camping trip.'
'But you can't stay here alone-'
'I'll handle this, Lois,' interrupted Rundon. 'Nobody from Scorpio can give me any trouble.'
Lois suddenly decided to obey. She saw Rundon reaching for his pocket, and thought that he had a gun.
She didn't look back, as she stumbled toward the cabin. If she had, she would have seen that Rundon merely produced a pipe.
All the while, Rundon was staring at the water; his flashlight had a broad range and he saw what happened very close to shore. He spied Denwood's speedboat, cutting a wide arc toward the flimsy dock. For some reason, it had veered away from Lois' course.
It was swinging back again, and Rundon saw why. There was a glisten in the speedboat's wake; behind the shine, a long stretch of foam. The boat had made a remarkable zigzag between Lois and some craft that had pursued her speedster.
A clever maneuver, and one that had proven very timely. Otherwise, Lois would have been intercepted by the mystery ship before she reached the shore. Then Rundon gave a call; too late. The speedboat, slashing back again to cut off the strange craft, had run into uncharted shoal some distance from the dock.
There was a splintering, as the prow crashed the hidden rocks; a dying gasp of a motor. But Rundon, with a last sweep of his flashlight, saw the figure at the helm. The pilot of the speedboat added mystery to the situation; made Rundon momentarily forget the other water thing that he had glimpsed.
The speedboat's pilot was cloaked in black; he wore a slouch hat. Rundon could see him no longer, for he had sprung from the wrecked boat and reached the shore past a batch of large rocks. All that Rundon glimpsed was the cloaked pilot's companion, a man in ordinary attire, who also dodged behind the rocks.
A slight thump came from the opposite direction, near the dock. Rundon turned off the light to listen; then stole in the opposite direction. Hearing approaching steps, he ventured hoarsely:
'Who's there?'
LOIS heard the call, from within the cabin, where she was sliding into slacks and flannel shirt. She edged to a window, threw back her soaked hair and stared into the darkness. She thought she could hear mutters beyond where Rundon was, but they didn't worry her. She had heard the speedboat crash farther down the shore.
Then, as Lois was stooping to tie the laces of her sneakers, she heard Rundon's shout;
'Lois! Quick! Bring the rifle!'
It was above the big fireplace, Rundon's gun, and Lois took it for granted that it was loaded. Yanking it from the rack, the girl dashed to the door; she could hear Rundon, trying to voice another yell. Men were struggling along the shore near the little dock, and Rundon was trying to get away, to break for the cabin.
Lois dashed for the group. At that instant, a flashlight sent its gleam from behind a rock down the shore.
From another angle, singularly close to the cabin, came a strident laugh that seemed to mock the fighters that the flash gleam displayed.
There were half a dozen of those fighters-rough-looking men, who were trying to suppress Rundon's punches. They flattened him as the light came; at the laugh, they scattered, leaving Rundon on hands and knees. Some were shooting for the light; their bullets were merely bashing rock. Others were trying to locate the laugh.
Their taunter aided them. He returned their fire, along with further mockery. His shots were like knife stabs; only the protection of trees saved his diving foemen. They were taking to the trunks of the huge pines, which were plentiful on this shore.
Into the path of light came a cloaked figure, swooping like a gigantic bat. It was Lois' first glimpse of The Shadow, and her last for a while. His move was a feint to make the foemen shift. They were stretching past the trees, shooting hurriedly, as The Shadow reversed his twist.
He was in darkness again, and he reached the corner of the cabin ahead of the aiming marksmen. From there, his gun blasted new responses, with results. Crooks had craned too far, and The Shadow winged a pair of them without even checking on their gun spurts. He simply jabbed his shots toward the sides of the trees, where he knew that they would be.
The howls of the wounded men brought a barrage from the others; not toward The Shadow, for they were
