The review. [volume] (High Point, N.C.) 1908-19??, 1915-07-01
TWENTY-FIFTH EPISODE
THE LOST TORPEDO.


From the rocks of promontory that
jutted out not far from the wharf
where WI Fang's body was found and
Kennedy had disappeared, opened up
a beautiful panorama of bay on one
side and the sound on the other.
It was a deserted bit of coast. But
anyone who had been standing near
the promontory the next day might
have seen thin line, as if the wa
ter, sparkling in the sunlight, had
been cut with a huge knife. Gradual
ly thin steel rod seemed to rise from
the water itself, still moving ahead,
though slowly now as it pushed it's
way above the surface. After it came
a round cylinder of steel, studded with
bolts. 1t was the hatch of a subma-
rine, and the rod was the periscope.
AS the submarine lay there at rest,
the waves almost breaking over it,
the hatch slowly opened and hand
appeared cropping for a hold. Then
appeared face with a tangle of curly
black hair and keen, forceful eyes.
After it the body of man rose out of
the hatch, tall, slender, striking per-
son. He reached down into the hold
of the boat and drew forth a life pre-
server.
"All right" he called down in an
accent slightly foreign, as he buckled
on the belt. Il shall communicate with
you as soon as 1 have something to
report"
Then he deliberately plunged over
board and struck out for the shore.
Hand over hand, he churned his way
through the water toward the beach
until at last his feet touched bottom,
and he waded out, shaking the water
from himself like a huge animal.
The coming of the stranger had not
been entirely unheralded. Along the
shore road by which Kennedy and
had followed the crooks who we
thought had the torpedo, on that last
chase, was waiting now powerful
limousine with it's motor purring. A
chauffeur was sitting at the wheel and
inside, at the door, sat a man peering
out along the road to the beach. Sud-
denly the man in the machine signaled
to the driver.
"He comes!" he cried eagerly. 'Drive
down the road, closer, and meet him.
AS the swimmer strobe shivering up
the roadway the car approached him.
The assistant swung open the door
and ran forward with a thick, warm
coat and hat.
Neither the master nor the servant
spoke as they met, but the man
wrapped the coat about him, hurried
into the car, the driver turned and
quickly they sped toward the city.
Secretly though the entrance of the
stranger had been planned, however,
it was not unobserved.
Along the beach, on a bowlder, gaz-
ing thoughtfully out to sea and smok-
ing an old brier pipe, sat a bent fish
erman clad in an oilskin hat and
heavy, ungainly boots. About his neck
was a long wooden muller which con-
cealed the lower part of his face quite
as effectually as his scraggly, grizzled
whiskers.
Suddenly he seemed to discover
something that interested him, slowly
rose, then turned and almost ran up
the shore. Quickly he dropped behind
a large rock and waited, peering out.
AS the limousine bearing the
stranger, on whom the fisherman had
kept his eyes riveted, turned and
drove away, the old salt rose from be-
hind his rock, gazed after the car as
If to fix every line of it in his mem
Dry, and then he, too, quickly disap--,
peared up the road.
The strangers car had scarcely dis
appeared when the fisherman turned
from the shore road into a clump of
stunted trees and made his way to a
hut. Not far away stood small, un-
pretentious closed car, also with
driver
II shall be ready in a minute" the
fisherman nodded, almost running into
the hut, as the driver moved his car
up closer to the door.
The larger motor had disappeared
far down the bend of the road when
the fisherman reappeared. In an al
most incredible time he had changed
his oilskins and muff1er for a dark coat
and silk hat. He was no longer a
fisherman, but rather fussy looking
old gentleman, bewhiskered still, with
eyes looking out keenly from a pair
of gold-rimmed glasses.
Follow that carat any cost" he
ordered simply as he let himself into