CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLUSION The mentally queer inventor had rigged up a bench just under shelves on which rested tools and boat supplies.
Just at the moment the inventor had his back turned to the water as he stood working at his bench.

Dick was able to look at him while not in immediate danger of being seen himself.
How quietly the Grammar School boy trod water! He hardly dared breathe, for fear of giving an alarm.
Yet, even in all his astonishment, Prescott did not forget to let one hand close over the handle of the black bag whose recovery had brought him here.
"I can't do anything with Garwood alone," reflected Dick swiftly.
"I must get out, if I can, without making a noise, and then give the hurry alarm.

That fellow is mixing something, and, if he isn't stopped soon, he's quite likely to blow up the boathouse, himself included." Fortunately there was sufficient depth of water at this outer end of the boathouse.

Prescott let himself sink so quietly that there was barely a ripple above his head.

Next, with a few cautious strokes, he carried himself past the hanging side wall and into the open upstream.
"Gracious, but no wonder Garwood has been able to keep away from pursuers," thought the boy excitedly, as he swam steadily up toward the other pier.