The Red Menace s-4

by Maxwell Grant

"Yes."

  "Shall we send the shirts you ordered? We received your letter this morning. Hello! Can you hear me?"

  "Yes," replied Harry.

  There was a click from the other end. The speaker had apparently been cut off. Harry listened for a

  moment; then smiled as he hung up the receiver. The interrupted call had given him the full message.

  "Send letter here."

  That had been the meaning of the three emphasized words. It was a short, cryptic message.

  Harry was used to such calls. He had heard them by phone; he had listened to them over the radio. A

  few words, stressed at intervals, could carry complete instructions.

  It was obvious that the call had come from Claude Fellows. The insurance broker was the man through

  whom Harry communicated with The Shadow.

  So he was to send the letter to Claude Fellows. What letter?

  Harry called the hotel desk.

  "Any messages for me?" he asked.

  "A letter here, sir."

  "Send it up."

  When the letter arrived, Harry merely noted that it was addressed to him. He placed it in a long

  envelope, and addressed it to Claude Fellows.

  It was after nine o'clock, so Harry dressed and went to the Grandville Building. There he left the letter

  with Fellows' stenographer. After that he went out for breakfast.

  Evidently there were to be no immediate duties for him. Last night, Harry had congratulated himself upon

  his skill in trailing Volovick, the man who had been following Stanley Berger. But that had ended in a

  fiasco.

  Harry had fallen into a simple snare; The Shadow had been forced to rescue him.

  Last night had furnished plenty of excitement. But now it appeared that he had been dropped from the

  task of watching Stanley Berger. Harry felt somewhat piqued.

  He went back to the hotel and read a newspaper. In the journal he saw the account of Stanley Berger's

  suicide.

  Harry whistled softly. So that was why he had been relieved from duty!

  He could not believe that Berger was dead. It was a strange, unexplainable sequel to the events of last

  night.

  A MAN entered the lobby while Harry was still pondering over the demise of Stanley Berger. Spying

  Harry, the newcomer approached and slapped him on the back.

  Harry was startled by the suddenness of the greeting.

  "Bruce Duncan!" he exclaimed.

  "None other," was the reply. "How's everything, Harry?"

  "All right. Come on up to the room. We can talk a while."

  When they reached Harry's room, the two men began a long conversation.

  They had not seen each other for some time. Bruce Duncan had been abroad. He had just recently

  returned to America.

  When Harry had last seen him, Duncan had been worried, and his appearance had shown it. Now he

  was the picture of health; a fine, clean-cut chap of powerful physique.

  At first the talk was of Bruce Duncan's trip abroad. Finally Harry lowered his voice, and referred to

  events of the past.

  "Has everything been all right?" he asked. "All right since the affair of the Russian jewels?"

  Bruce Duncan nodded.

  "You have told no one?" questioned Harry.

  "No one," replied Duncan. "I have preserved absolute secrecy."

  "Have you ever seen the messenger since -"

  "Berchik? No. I have no idea what became of him."

  "You are wise to keep your secret."

  "I know it, Harry," said Bruce Duncan soberly. "You can be sure that I have kept silence. You know the

  secret of those jewels.

  "They were the wealth of a Russian prince. My uncle was to receive them, and give shares to other

  people. But my uncle died before Berchik arrived, and the task fell upon me. I distributed the shares

  anonymously.

  "There are only two men in America who know that I received the jewels. You and myself."

  Harry Vincent shook his head.

  "The Shadow knows," he corrected.

  "That is true," agreed Duncan. "Of course The Shadow knows. Had it not been for The Shadow, you

  and I would be dead."

  "He rescued me again, last night," said Harry, quietly. "Remember, Bruce, you must never mention The

  Shadow—to any one but myself."

  "I understand. Your connection with The Shadow is as important a secret to you as the jewels are to me.

  Well, I have the jewels stowed safely away in a safe-deposit vault.

  "I know where they are. But do you know where The Shadow is?"

  "He seems to be everywhere, Bruce," laughed Harry. "I have had exciting adventures since I last saw

  you; and I appear to be on the verge of new experiences."

  A ring from the telephone interrupted the conversation. Harry answered.

  "Oh, yes," Duncan heard him say. "I forgot that the insurance policy ran out to-day. I'll stop over before

  five o'clock."

  Harry hung up. He resumed conversation with Duncan.

  THE subject changed; they discussed various unimportant matters, and finally Bruce Duncan reverted to

  the trip from which he had just returned.

  "One makes many interesting acquaintances, traveling abroad," he said. "I met a German coming back on

  the boat. He has been living here in New York for several years.

  "He invited me to a party, night before last. I was introduced to some very interesting people. One in

  particular -"

  He smiled and looked at his watch.

  "I have a luncheon engagement," he said. "Can't you come along with me? I'd like you to meet the person

  of whom I am speaking."

  "Who. The German?"

  "No. My new friend. The one to whom I was introduced."

  "All right," agreed Harry. "I don't have anything to do until late this afternoon, when I have an

  appointment with an insurance man. I'll be glad to go along with you."

  Harry was glad to have met Bruce Duncan again.

  They continued their talk as they left the hotel. Harry learned that Bruce was living alone, in an old

  mansion which had belonged to his uncle.

  Bruce's only attendant was a faithful Hindu servant, named Abdul. The Hindu had been abroad with

  Bruce.

  "I couldn't get along without Abdul," remarked Bruce, as they walked down Broadway. "He's been with

  me for years. I brought him back from India, after a trip around the world.

  "He's helped me out of some difficult places. He's not only a good bodyguard; he seems to have some

  instinctive power that enables him to see danger before it arrives. His only fault is that he talks very little.

  He keeps his knowledge to himself."

  THE two men entered the lobby of a Broadway hotel. Bruce led the way to the hotel cafe. The head

  waiter recognized him.

  "I have a table for you, Mr. Duncan," he said.

  "There will be three of us," announced Bruce.

  They sat at the table, and puffed at cigarettes. Bruce Duncan's eyes were toward the door. Suddenly he

  arose, and left the dining room.

  He returned a minute later. Harry looked up to see him approaching with a young woman as his

  companion. Rising from the table, Harry turned to meet the new arrival. It had never occurred to him that

  Bruce Duncan's friend might be a girl!

  "Miss DeLand, may I present Mr. Vincent -"

  Harry was staring in amazement before Bruce Duncan had completed the introduction.

  The young woman was the one who had come to his assistance last night, in the Pink Rat!

  He had seen her at a distance then; now, at close vision, she appeared
more beautiful than before. Harry

  was positive of her identity; and he fancied that he saw a gleam of recognition in the girl's eyes.

  Harry quickly regained his composure.

  "Haven't I met you before?" he questioned.

  The girl shook her head. She no longer betrayed a look of recognition.

  As they sat at the lunch table, Harry Vincent was thoughtful. The tone of the girl's voice, her smile, and

  her manner left no room for doubt.

  She was the girl who had rescued him. Why did she pretend not to recognize him? What was her

  purpose with Bruce Duncan?

  Was she a friend or an enemy of The Shadow?

  CHAPTER XI. NEW DEVELOPMENTS

  IT was early in the evening. The old building on Twenty-third Street was dark. All the occupants of the

  dingy offices had gone home a few hours before.

  A single light gleamed in a room on the second floor. But any one going through the building would not

  have observed it; for the room in which it appeared was thoroughly curtained. A black cloth hung over

  the glass door on which the name "B. Jonas" appeared.

  Beneath the shaded light was a table, and there hands were at work. Like a creature of the night, The

  Shadow was going over the data which he had received from his agent, Claude Fellows.

  The insurance broker's report was one of definite information. It referred in part to Harry Vincent:

  Vincent called at five o'clock. Followed Berger last night. Left him at theater. Followed man who had

  been trailing Berger. Was lured to place known as Pink Rat. Learned name of man whom he followed.

  Volovick.

  Vincent attacked by Volovick and gang. Rescued by a girl who helped him hide in secret compartment

  behind the wall of room. Girl disappeared. Vincent opened panel of wall by accident. Escaped through

  aid of an unknown man who fought Volovick and his gang.

  Vincent received a letter to-day. Forwarded it unopened. Letter inclosed herewith. Vincent also met girl

  again. She was with Bruce Duncan. Has known Duncan only a few days. Her name is Arlette DeLand.

  Pretended she did not recognize Vincent. She lives at Hotel Paragon.

  Data regarding Whitburn difficult to obtain. Have located several Whitburns. Professor Arthur Whitburn

  seems most probable. Formerly head of engineering department, Hornell University. Now retired. Lived

  on island in Lake Marrinack, Connecticut. Have traced inclosed advertisement to him.

  A clipping lay on the table. The hands raised the slip of newspaper, which had been cut from the Morning

  Sphere. It read as follows:

  WANTED: Young Man, single, college graduate, to assist in experimental work. State qualifications,

  age, et cetera. A. W., care of Sphere.

  The moving hands discarded the newspaper clipping. Then they turned to another task. They lifted the

  envelope which Harry Vincent had received in the morning mail. It was addressed in the writing of

  Stanley Berger.

  Slowly the hands opened the envelope, and spread the letter upon the table.

  For two full minutes the hands remained motionless. The fire opal, glimmering beneath the brilliant light,

  sparkled as though it were alive; yet it seemed attached to a waxwork hand.

  The message written by Stanley Berger was perplexing to the mind that was invisible in the surrounding

  darkness. It was in the suicide's writing, yet the facts which it stated were not what had been expected.

  The simple announcements that Berger was "miserable and unhappy"; that the "shock had left him

  helpless"; and that when the letter was received he "would be gone" carried no semblance of a murderer's

  confession. Instead, these statements were ones which an innocent man might have written.

  THE letter dropped to the table. The hand that wore the fire opal picked up the envelope. The fingers of

  the other hand carefully peeled the stamp from the corner where it was attached.

  The envelope was discarded. Producing two sheets of paper, and two pencils, each hand poised as

  though ready to write. Finally the left hand inscribed these words:

  Berger began to write a complete confession. His mind was directed to that channel.

  The right hand took up the task, forming words that seemed to come from another mind:

  The letter received by Vincent is not a confession. It was dictated by another person.

  Then, right and left hand writing in rapid alternation, these sentences quickly filled the two papers:

  Berger first addressed the envelope. Unknown to him, that envelope was marked in the corner. The

  stamp was placed over the mark.

  There is no mark on the envelope received by Vincent. This is not the envelope which Berger originally

  addressed.

  Berger's mind was directed to mail the original envelope. His mind, acting upon the suggestion given it,

  would not have remembered the address. Vincent's name would have been unknown.

  Some one intercepted the letter of confession. That person now knows that Harry Vincent is connected

  with this matter.

  The amazing hands held the two sheets of paper side by side; then crumpled them together.

  Now the right hand, as though inspired by the comparative thoughts, began to write alone; and it showed

  that a master mind was at work, piecing together bits of evidence.

  The words were scattered, and obscure in their meaning; but at last the hand became methodical, and

  compiled a list of names, with statements following them. The first was:

  Stanley Berger. Member of a powerful organization. Attended meetings. Ordered to obtain

  correspondence between Jonathan Graham and man named Whitburn. Berger succeeded. Murdered

  Graham to cover up trail. Received notification to stay away from future meetings. Did not know exact

  nature of correspondence which he stole.

  A second name appeared upon the list:

  Volovick. Another member of the organization. Deputed to observe Berger. Saw Vincent. Led him into a

  trap. Sought to kill him.

  The third name would have interested Harry Vincent:

  Arlette DeLand. Saved Harry Vincent temporarily. Is a friend of Bruce Duncan. Now fails to recognize

  Vincent. Has some purpose in making Bruce Duncan's acquaintance.

  The moving fingers became motionless. The directing brain was considering the next person on the list.

  Finally the hand wrote; but this time it inscribed no name. Instead, it used the letter X to denote an

  unknown factor.

  X. A supervising power of the organization. The person who visited Stanley Berger. A keen, strong

  mind. Overcame the suggestion under which Berger was working. Gave him new directions. Induced him

  to commit suicide.

  The forefinger of the right hand ran down the list, carefully checking every statement which had been

  written. Then, with precise care, it wrote a definite summary upon another sheet of paper:

  Stanley Berger worked for an unknown purpose. Therefore he was inspired by a cause not governed by

  personal gain. Murder was too drastic an action to merely cover up his theft. He murdered Jonathan

  Graham because in him he saw an enemy to his cause.

  Graham had no known personal enemies. He was a millionaire, and noteworthy as a capitalist. He was

  an outstanding opponent of communism. This would be sufficient cause for a fanatic to kill him. Berger

  was a fanatic. His suicide proves it.

  Volovick has connection with gangsters. But he is not identified with major activities in the underworld.

  He is a Russian. A logical member of a Re
d organization.

  The members of this organization do not know one another—except when deputed to watch a former

  member of the group; as Volovick watched Berger.

  Arlette DeLand, as an agent of the organization, did not recognize Volovick; or was not recognized by

  him. Hence she did not know that Vincent was under observation as a supposed enemy.

  Bruce Duncan is being tracked by the organization because he was the recipient of czarist wealth. That is

  the only reason why he would be investigated. Arlette DeLand is working for the group, to learn more

  about him.

  The Shadow, invisible in the darkness, had summarized his facts. Now his hand wrote the details of his

  future plans. They were brief and definite:

  X must be traced. Two methods. First, through Volovick. Second, by warning Bruce Duncan to watch

  Arlette DeLand.

  Find connection between Whitburn and Graham. Danger may threaten Whitburn. He must be protected.

  Vincent is now in danger. His name is known to X. Two in danger are safer together. Whitburn will be

  reached through Vincent.

  The hand paused; then it used the pencil to underscore the last sentence. The hand produced a pen, and

  wrote a brief note in ink. The message was quickly folded; the newspaper clipping of A. W. was

  dropped with it, into an envelope.

  Using another pen—one which evidently contained permanent ink— The Shadow addressed the

  envelope to Claude H. Fellows, in the Grandville Building.

  The light was turned out. Silence reigned amid the blackness. The mind of The Shadow had performed

  its work. Now the man had gone forth to act!

  CHAPTER XII. AT THE COBALT CLUB

  THE death of Jonathan Graham was no longer a matter of front-page interest; but it was still a subject of

  discussion at the Cobalt Club. The importer had been a prominent member of that social organization.

  The Cobalt Club was reputed to be the most exclusive in New York.

  To-night, a small group of members were seated in the luxurious lounge, and their conversation dealt with

  Jonathan Graham. While they were talking, a young man entered, attired in evening clothes. He nodded

  to various persons in the group, but took no part in the discussion.

  After a short while the group dwindled away, until only a single individual remained. He was a tall,