"Your report has enabled me to turn in information a few days before the story will appear in the Cleveland papers. Furthermore, it locates Harrisburg as a center. Make yourself at home here. We should receive a reply within an hour."
The stenographer had left at five minutes after ten. She returned about twenty minutes later. At exactly eleven o'clock a messenger arrived with an envelope for Fellows.
The insurance broker stood by the window as he read the letter carefully. He stared for a while as though committing facts to memory. When he laid the paper on the desk it was a blank sheet of paper. This was no surprise to Vincent. He, too, had received letters from The Shadow; letters written in simple code, with disappearing ink that vanished after a few minutes.
"Vincent," said Fellows, "when unusual crimes occur, unusual men are often responsible for them. There is a man in this city who has been indirectly concerned with other disappearances. He lives in a section of the East Side; his name is Isaac Coffran.
"I learned that this man has been watched for the past few days — either by The Shadow or by one of his men, for there are others besides us. Last night Isaac Coffran left his home — something which he has not done for months. To-night he expects a visitor named Bruce Duncan.
"Coffran's house must be watched, and you are the man appointed. There is an empty store across the street. The door is unlocked. You can stay in there. Here is an envelope that contains a telephone number. There is a telephone in the store. Report when any one enters Coffran's house, and whenever any one leaves. If a man goes in and stays there more than two hours, report by telephone.
"Your report concerning Harrisburg will doubtless be investigated to-night. Naturally you are not the man to go back there at present. Hence you will perform this new duty."
The chubby-faced insurance broker became very solemn as he added the final words of his instructions.
"Remember, Vincent," he said, "that Isaac Coffran is a very dangerous man. He is not of the criminal type; he has never been suspected of a crime. Yet I have been assured that he has not only known the facts of the disappearances of various people, but also that certain persons have entered his house and have never been seen afterward.
"The police know nothing whatever of this man's activities. Coffran is old and wise. His memory is remarkable, and his resources are many.
"So be alert. Be careful. Remember all you see, and report everything. We are on the verge of important discoveries. Three men are missing. The Shadow intends to find out where they are."
Harry Vincent left the office with the address of Isaac Coffran tucked away in his vest pocket. He was sober as he went down in the elevator. Fellows's words had been impressive; never before had the insurance broker talked so thoroughly. A tremendous crisis must have arisen, for The Shadow's detail man had exhibited unprecedented activity.
Master minds were engaged in some uncommon crime. The Shadow was exerting all his power to defeat them. The Shadow would need many eyes to-night.
CHAPTER X. INTO THE SNARE
The house of Isaac Coffran was an old brick building in an obscure street on the East Side. It seemed strangely deserted to Bruce Duncan as he rang the bell alongside the massive door.
If his uncle's friend had not assured him that he should come at eight o'clock Thursday evening, Bruce would have decided that the house was unoccupied. For all the windows at the front were closed with iron shutters.
Even now he hesitated. He had rung the bell three times, yet there had been no response from within.
Still, it was exactly eight o'clock. It would be best to wait.
The door opened suddenly. Bruce started backward as he faced a huge, dull-faced man whose features were marred by a livid scar across one cheek. The fellow was considerably over six feet in height, and his frame was powerful.
"What you want?" demanded the man in a thick, guttural voice.
"Does Mr. Isaac Coffran live here?"
"Yes. What name?"
"Duncan. Mr. Bruce Duncan."
The huge man removed his bulk from the doorway and motioned for Bruce to enter. He stepped into a dimly lighted hallway, and the man closed the door and bolted it.
"Wait here," he said, indicating a chair.
The big attendant went up the stairs at the end of the hall. Duncan waited several minutes. Then he heard Isaac Coffran calling him from the head of the steps.
"Come up, my boy," were the old man's words.
Isaac Coffran seemed greatly pleased as he shook hands with Bruce Duncan in the upper hallway. He ushered his visitor into a comfortable sitting room at the back of the house.
"Well, boy," said the old man, smiling and rubbing his hands with satisfaction, "I have your uncle's letters all waiting for you."
"Have you looked through them?" questioned Duncan eagerly. "Did you find anything important?"
"I have not had time to read them. I am leaving that work to you. It is your privilege; especially as the letters would not give me any clue. I am quite ignorant of what you wish to discover."
"That's true. Where are the letters?"
"In my study. I shall take you there in a few minutes. You may be a long while reading. So I have arranged everything for you to stay all night."
"That's kind of you, Mr. Coffran."
The old man looked at Bruce quizzically.
"Were you surprised at the appearance of this house?" he asked.
"Yes, I was," admitted Bruce. "I would have thought that it was unoccupied if you had not assured me that you would be at home."
Isaac Coffran smiled. "I am not at home except to a very few friends," he said. "I prefer to keep the house closed in this manner. I have retired from the world. This is a bad neighborhood, and it is necessary to keep the house well-barred. I can't think of leaving this old home. But it is safe here. No one can enter, and Pedro, my servant, is faithful and reliant."
"He appears to be," Bruce remarked sincerely.
"Yes, and he is ignorant. It is well that he should be. It is best never to trust important affairs to servants. By the way, your own servant — that Hindu — are you sure that he is faithful?"
"Absolutely."
"He might be connected with the theft that took place in your uncle's room."
"I thought of that, Mr. Coffran. I'm sure that Abdul knew nothing about it."
"Where is he now?"
"I left him home."
"You told him that he could reach you here, of course?"
"I told him nothing. There is no reason why he should need to communicate with me. I trust Abdul, as I said; but I felt that my visit here should be kept secret. The Hindu cannot tell any one where I have gone if he does not know where I am."
"That was a wise course, my boy."
"In fact," added Duncan, "I told Abdul that I might not be home for days — or even for weeks. If I find a clue in my uncle's letters, I may start to follow it right away. So the Hindu has instructions to look after the house and wait until I return. You know how those Orientals are. He will stay on the job perpetually until he receives further instructions."
"Very good," observed Isaac Coffran. "Being at the house, he will be available if you need him."
"I was careful coming here, too," explained Duncan. "I left my car in a garage on the West Side and came this way in a taxicab. You and your servants are the only persons who know that I am here."
A crafty smile appeared upon the withered face of Isaac Coffran. Duncan was startled as he saw the sudden change in the old man's features. But the next words of his uncle's friend were reassuring.