have something to report."

Then he deliberately plunged overboard 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 I had followed the crooks whom
we thought had the torpedo, on that last chase, was waiting now a
powerful limousine with its 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. Suddenly the man in the machine signalled
to the driver.

"He comes," he cried eagerly. "Drive down the road, closer, and
meet him."

The chauffeur shot his car ahead. As the swimmer strode 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.

Secret though the entrance of the stranger had been planned,
however, it was not unobserved.

Along the beach, on a boulder, gazing thoughtfully out to sea and