Free The Avenger 36 - Demon Island by Kenneth Robeson

they didn’t know about these tunnels. Stark hadn’t even confided in his associates about the tunnel system.
    This particular corridor led right under the island to the castle. Stark had used it once today already. That was how he’d heard about Tucker and learned that the police were on Demon Island. You came out in a hollow place in one of the room walls up in the mansion.
    The thing now was to get himself off the island.
    That’s not going to be too tough, he told himself.
    They’d been dropped on the island by a launch belonging to a friend of his. When the dough was found, Stark was to signal the guy. Or when they wanted off the island. That was out now. Too many people snooping around.
    So I got to arrange for some other transportation for myself, he decided.
    He reached the end of the tunnel and climbed silently up the metal stairs. Inside the wall, he put his eye to the peephole. Yeah, the auburn-haired girl was alone in her room. With her as a hostage they’d see he got off the island in style.
    Stark smiled to himself, clutched his gun, and pushed the button which opened the panel in the wall.
    The wall slid open and Stark stepped into Heather Brail’s bedroom.
    The girl screamed.
    “One more of those, baby, and you’re dead,” he told her.

    “Excelsior, as my uncle Heathcote says,” said Smitty. He’d located the concealed lever which opened the wall in the underground room.
    Cole and Nellie had, in the meantime, extinguished the burning furniture. “Lead on, Smitty,” said Cole. “I’m anxious to see where the elusive Mr. Stark has gotten to.”
    Nellie stepped over to flash the light down the revealed tunnel. “That looks gloomier than the Manhattan subway.”
    Smitty, ducking his head, stepped into the corridor. “Must have been them bootleggers who built all this little setup.”
    “No doubt,” agreed Cole, grinning. “Let us now dog Stark’s footsteps.”
    “Oops.” Nellie snapped her fingers. “We forgot about our fat friend upstairs.”
    “I’ll go fetch him.” Smitty trotted across the room, out the door, and up the ladder.
    Nellie asked, “What were these boys planning to do with you, Cole?”
    “My ultimate fate was a topic of considerable debate among them,” he answered. “Unfortunately, the lads who favored letting me go free as a bird had a tendency to meet sudden and violent ends.”
    “The man Smitty and Dick found was one of the gang?”
    “He was no doubt the ill-fated Tucker.”
    “What exactly are they up to?”
    “What do people usually do on mysterious islands? Look for buried treasure.”
    “Oh, so? How romantic. Pirate gold or what?”
    “A more recent brand of loot, pixie. Bootlegger’s cash.”
    Grunting, Smitty reappeared. “This bird’s even heavier than he looks.” The fat Morrison was slung over his shoulder, unconscious.
    “He’s still out cold,” observed Nellie.
    “Well, he was waking up and I had to conk him again a little bit.” Smitty looked at his two compatriots. “Might as well bring him along, huh?”
    “You feel like toting him?” asked Cole. “We may end up at the earth’s core or some equally remote spot.”
    “I’ll lug him. It’s no big deal.”
    With Nellie carrying the light and leading the parade, the trio entered the tunnel.
    “I heard you blabbing about buried treasure,” Smitty said to Cole. “Is that what these goons were after?”
    “Yes, apparently the late bootlegger king of this island is said to have hidden a million dollars in cash somewhere on Demon Island.”
    “A million bucks,” said the giant. “That’s why they started knocking each other off.”
    “On the contrary,” said Cole. “The survivors were completely in the dark as to who did poor Tucker in. And there was another lad done to death—chap named Jepson—before we arrived on the scene.”
    “Hold on now, Cole. If these bozos didn’t do the killing . . . that means somebody in the movie bunch is a murderer.”
    “I don’t