"When he regained consciousness, Cranston became delirious. He said nothing coherent. I was afraid that he would not survive, but his vitality is wonderful. His condition was critical Tuesday and Wednesday. It improved a bit Thursday, but it was not until this morning that he spoke so we could understand him. Then he mentioned your name twice."
"And spoke as though he wanted to see you, sir," added Richards.
"What is his condition now?" inquired Fellows, with anxiety in his voice.
"It is improving rapidly," said Doctor Wells.
"How soon will he be better?"
"I cannot tell. It may be a matter of weeks."
Fellows suppressed a groan.
"It depends a great deal upon how he is when he awakens," explained the physician. "The wounds are doing nicely. The fever has been the greatest complication. I hope that it will lessen, now that he is sleeping quietly. If it passes away rapidly, he will be sitting up within two days. Possibly to-morrow. If it continues, we may have a long siege."
"I shall wait until he wakes," declared Fellows.
"Very good," responded the doctor. "But I have wanted to talk with some friend of Mr. Cranston's regarding this affair. What should be done about it? I have hesitated to report it to the police."
"Don't do that," said Fellows promptly. "He was wounded in New York. This is New Jersey. It would be best to keep the matter quiet."
"Yet steps should be taken to discover the men who are responsible for Mr. Cranston's injuries." The doctor was solicitous, but Fellows was thinking rapidly.
"Let him decide that matter," he said. "He knows what happened and where it occurred. Has he said anything that might be a clue?"
"Not a word," the doctor replied. "Am I correct, Richards?"
"You are correct, doctor," replied the valet.
"Since it happened Monday night," said Fellows, "it would be wise to let the matter rest for the present. I say that emphatically. You have called upon me as a friend of Mr. Cranston. I know him well enough to believe that he would agree with me."
"Very well," said the doctor.
Fellows dined with Doctor Wells, and later in the evening, Richards informed them that Mr. Cranston had awakened. They went upstairs, and the wounded millionaire greeted them with a feeble smile on his pale face.
"Fellows," he said weakly.
The insurance broker sat down.
"Don't let him talk much," whispered the physician. "Don't say anything that will worry him."
"How are things going?" asked the man in the bed.
"Very well," replied Fellows.
The head turned, and two eyes peered searchingly at Fellows. Under that glance the insurance broker felt uneasy. Cranston was pale and weak, but his eyes seemed twin fires that pierced through the wanness.
"Fellows," said the millionaire, in a slow voice, "in my vest pocket you will find a slip of paper. It bears a telephone number. Call it. Tell the man who answers you that I am — that I am not well. Ask him to come here. He is a wireless operator. I want him to take charge of my set — upstairs."
Lamont Cranston closed his eyes wearily.
"The man I want," he said, "is an old friend of mine — a friend whom you have never met. I shall ask him to write you — regarding insurance policies — and other matters. Be sure that he comes here. Be sure to reply immediately to any letters that he sends you."
The millionaire ceased speaking. He seemed to be half asleep.
"Come," whispered Doctor Wells.
The insurance broker found the paper in the vest pocket. He opened it at the telephone table downstairs.
He called the number. A quiet voice replied. Fellows explained the situation.
"I shall come to-night," said the man at the other end of the wire. "You may count on my arriving within two hours."
Fellows was thoughtful as he rode back to Rahway in Lamont Cranston's car. He was wondering about the phone call he had made. The voice that had answered was one that he had never heard previously.
He felt that he would like to meet the man to whom he had spoken.
The phone call had relieved Fellows's worries; not because of the voice, but because of the call itself.
Fellows had a remarkable memory when telephone numbers were concerned.
The number which he had called was the same number that he had given to Harry Vincent, the night that young man had kept watch at the home of Isaac Coffran.
CHAPTER XXVII. NEW DISCOVERIES
Harry Vincent stared gloomily at Bruce Duncan while they were eating their breakfast.
"Next Tuesday is coming soon," remarked Harry.
"Why remind me of it?" replied his friend. "If we don't do any more than we have during the last three days, next Tuesday can come and go without meaning anything to us."
"What can we do? We've lost contact by radio, and we've been instructed to use caution. We can't go prowling through the woods without exciting suspicion, can we?"
"Did you send a wireless message last night?"
"Yes, and I listened for a reply. Up to ten o'clock. No result. So I gave it up."
"You received a letter when we were in town yesterday morning. Whom was it from?"
"Fellows. He simply said to keep on lying low. I think something has gone wrong, Bruce. It's Saturday now, and we've been kept virtually idle since Tuesday night. It seems to me The Shadow has slipped out of the picture."
"Maybe he ran into trouble, Harry. He's looked for it often enough. He ran some big chances that night he pulled me out of Isaac Coffran's house."
"The Shadow usually manages to win out, Bruce. But this time it looks different. I'm going to run down to the village to see if there's another letter there. Unless Fellows gives us some definite instructions, we'll have to act for ourselves."
Bruce Duncan was thoughtful.
"Harry," he said, "we can't be far wrong in our location. The bus driver told us that he stopped at Ridge Road to let a man off on Tuesday night. The only reason that we haven't found the place is because we haven't looked."
"I agree, Bruce. But if we run into Chefano again, he'll be wise to the whole thing. You know that."
"If we had a plane, we could fly over this locality and make observations. You can see a lot from above."
Vincent grunted contemptuously.
"Sure you can, and what would Chefano think if he heard a plane buzzing in circles overhead? But wait! You've given me an idea. You know that mountain in back of us?"
"The one they call Rocky Summit?"
"That's the one. When I was in town yesterday, I saw one of the natives pointing it out to a stranger. He said that there's a path up the mountain. There's a clearing near the top, and you can see the whole valley from there. That's better than an airplane."
"We'd be pretty far away to observe anything."
"Not if we had powerful field glasses. We'll go downtown and see if we can buy any."
They were fortunate when they arrived at the village. Josh Stevens had an excellent pair of field glasses for sale.
"I had an order for them two years ago," he said. "When they came in, the customer had left town. I kept them anyway."
The morning mail had brought no letter from Fellows. So Vincent and Duncan set out for Rocky Summit.
Reaching the highest point on Mountain Pike, they turned up a side road and reached the path that led up the mountain. Very few persons made the ascent; the climb was not difficult, but the mountain was infested with rattlesnakes. The young men wore leather puttees and carried long sticks.
They found that the top of the mountain formed an excellent lookout. In a short while, they located the top of their cottage. The cabin on Seth Wilkinson's property could not be seen because of the trees.