“When we got to the dock, I wasn’t taking chances. The old scow was there, and we shoved the girls aboard and followed. We got going plenty fast. I saw The Shadow come up — but by that time we were half a mile out in the Sound.”
“And then?”
“I dropped off the boat with my gorillas. We weren’t suppose to be on it at all. I didn’t want the boys to know where the boat was going. The guy that was running it handled the job. We had the girls tied up — it was easy enough for him to make the trip by himself.”
A LONG pause followed. Maurice Traymer was reviewing Beef Norbin’s account. When the society man made no comment, the gang leader put in a few remarks of his own.
“The other jobs were easy,” declared Beef. “We went haywire on this one. That’s why I don’t want to see any more like the ones plans were made for. I’m not the boss, but I’d like to see it quits. If this keeps on—”
“The police are in it now,” agreed Traymer.
“Phooey for the cops,” returned Beef Norbin. “It’s The Shadow I’m thinking about. Once he’s on the job, it’s curtains if you don’t think quick. I’m wondering how he wised up.”
“There can only be one more job,” remarked Traymer quietly.
“Yeah?” The news seemed good to Beef. “How’s that?”
“I stopped in to see Hargreaves,” explained Traymer. “Naturally, he was all upset about this notoriety in the daily newspapers, because the reporters found out that the girls had been attending a lecture at his apartment.”
“It don’t hook him up with the mess,” objected Norbin.
“No, certainly not,” agreed Traymer, “but it will hang a gloom over the lecture program. Hargreaves is going to urge every one to come to the lecture tomorrow night; but that will be the last event on the program.
“He intends to ask Professor Sheldon to end the course — or at least to postpone it indefinitely. He’s going to take that cruise that he was talking about, and he’ll invite every one to go with him.”
“How soon?” asked Norbin.
“As soon as possible,” explained Traymer. “You see, his plans for the cruise had been very vague, and he had issued no invitations. Talking with me, however, he decided that it would be a good idea to invite the entire group.”
“Say” — Norbin was enthusiastic — “if Hargreaves puts that through, it’s going to be sweet! No need for any more work around here. There won’t be any one left to go after—”
“If it goes through,” interposed Traymer, “matters will be just as you say, unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless certain members of the lecture group decide not to go on the yacht cruise.”
“There’s some that aren’t going to be touched, anyway.”
“Certainly. They do not matter. But suppose that three — or two — or even one — should decide not to go along. That would mean work for tomorrow night.”
Beef Norbin settled back into his chair.
“That’s easy enough,” he said. “I’m ready. You’ve got it doped right, Traymer. Polish off the loose ones tomorrow night — if there are any of them. Then a duck for cover, and go ahead with the big job as planned.”
“With two objectives,” said Traymer, with a smile. “The capture of the persons who are still required and—”
Norbin nodded; then his face showed a frown.
“It’s good, but is it O.K.?” he questioned. “You aren’t running this racket, Traymer, any more than I am.”
“Think it over, Norbin,” responded Traymer, rising from his chair. “The more you figure it, the more you will see that it’s the only logical plan. It is sure to be the final decision.”
“Uh-huh,” grunted Norbin. “Well, Traymer, I’ll hear from you tomorrow night.”
Three minutes later, Maurice Traymer made his exit through the lobby of the old hotel, with no one questioning him. Shortly after his departure, a shadowy blotch glided across the floor of the same lobby, unnoticed by the clerk or the lounging gangsters.
A TALL, vague figure appeared momentarily beside the glow of a street lamp. Then the grotesque form disappeared into darkness, and the low mockery of a whispered laugh sighed through the silence of the night air.
Tonight, The Shadow had listened. Like Maurice Traymer and Beef Norbin, he would be ready tomorrow night!
Last night, two girls had been kidnaped. Elise Cathcart and Gale Sawyer were prisoners — held for some unknown reason. The police knew of their disappearance; but the law had no cognizance of others who, The Shadow believed, had also fallen into the same snare.
Were Muriel Hastings and Joan Foxcroft actually in Bermuda? Had Roy Darwin and Clayton Peale taken the trips which Anthony Hargreaves had stated?
If six members of the group that assembled for Professor Sheldon’s lectures were gone — two following each function — it was logical to suppose that others might be sought. The Shadow had heard plans discussed tonight, by two men who were concerned with sinister schemes.
Tomorrow night would be The Shadow’s turn. He would see where new danger threatened. Then would he learn the source of crime. New battles were brewing, and The Shadow was forearmed!
The chain of evidence was growing stronger. East Point, where Harry Vincent was still carrying on his investigations silently, was the starting point of this complex situation. Ensuing events tended to disclose nothing more to lead to it.
Yet, despite the promise of action elsewhere tomorrow night, Vincent’s work, too, seemed to be bearing fruit.
CHAPTER XIII
HARRY HAS NEWS
SINCE his advent at East Point, Vincent had become an early riser. In this propensity, he found Malbray Woodruff to be his equal. The artist claimed that early-morning atmosphere was conducive to artistic talent.
Thus Harry and Woodruff were eating breakfast shortly after dawn, and Harry, taciturn in demeanor, was silently reviewing the events of the past few days. He realized that he had discovered very little to report to The Shadow.
Two nights ago Professor Kirby Sheldon had returned late from his lecture in New York. The old gentleman had been at home yesterday, and in the evening, Harry and Woodruff had made a short call. This present afternoon, Sheldon was due to leave for New York to deliver another lecture.
Events at the cottage of Elbert Cordes had not been illuminating. Watching at night, Harry had suspected that either Cordes or Downs had been abroad, but he had discovered no tangible evidence to that effect.
The only unusual item of interest on the point had been the activity of Malbray Woodruff.
Yesterday, the artist had taken his little boat, and Harry had seen him rowing out into the bay, equipped with his easel and brushes. A hundred yards off the Point lay a little wooded island, the trees upon its surface being of the scrubby variety. It was the first in a succession of tiny islets — some no more than bare rocks above the surface of the water. Others, like the nearest area of isolated land, were like high mounds, with inaccessible sides.
Woodruff, when he had rowed away, had disappeared behind the first island; and it was from that same spot that Harry had seen the artist returning to the Point after an all-day expedition.
This morning, Woodruff announced his intention of going on a similar trip, but decided that he would come back in time for lunch. He exhibited a partly finished painting of a bay scene, and stated that he had found a desirable spot upon a mass of rocks that could not be seen from the Point.
Since his last journey to the settlement at the depot, Harry had not left the vicinity of Woodruff’s cottage. There was nothing to be gained by applying a further test concerning Cordes and his man. Here, on the Point, Harry felt a complete detachment from the rest of the world.