"Both of them are too lazy to motor up into the wilderness each night, over such rough roads, all the way from Gridley.

No, no! It's someone else, though who it is I can't imagine.

If it were the man of the lake mystery, or any of his people, they'd be likely to know that we're on this side of the lake." From the edge of the timber line near by came the sound of a crackling twig, followed by a groan as of a soul in torment.
Wheeling like a flash, Tom Reade produced the pocket flash lamp.
Staring toward the boys, his face outlined between the close-growing trunks of two spruce trees, were the startling features of a man.
"That's he---the Man of the Haunting Face!" came from Tom Reade in a hoarse whisper.
"Then we'll get him!" cried Dick Prescott, leaping forward.

"Hold the light on him!".