The Red Menace s-4

by Maxwell Grant

  He approached one agent and tapped him on the shoulder. The man went to the outer room. After a few

  minutes, Prokop dismissed another.

  He allowed sufficient time for each to discard the robe in the outer room, and to leave the vicinity of the

  meeting place before another followed.

  The agents maintained absolute silence during this procedure. No one ever spoke to another. One by

  one, they departed, until only four remained. Then Prokop left the group, and went to the outer room

  himself.

  As he reached the door, he turned, and said:

  "Agent M."

  One of the gowned men followed. As soon as they were alone in the outer room, Agent M removed his

  disguise.

  "You followed Prince Zuvor to-night?" questioned Prokop.

  "Yes," replied the man.

  "Where did he go?"

  "To the Cobalt Club."

  "How long was he there?"

  "A few hours."

  "Where did he go after that?"

  "I followed him to his house."

  "Good! Did you make arrangements to watch while you left?"

  "Yes. The house is carefully guarded."

  "Go back, then, and keep watching. Observe any one who may enter there. No further instructions."

  The man left. Prokop went to the door of the inner room, and summoned Agent F. This was Volovick.

  "I have been considering what happened last night," said Prokop. "You acted rashly. Nothing may come

  of it; but we must be safe."

  He drew forth a yellow card, and gave it to Volovick.

  "Keep this as a reminder," said Prokop.

  Volovick nodded, and left.

  Prokop called for Agent F. The man appeared, and removed his robe. He was a short, wiry individual,

  with a cunning face.

  "I have work for you," said Prokop, in a low voice. "Go to the Hotel Metrolite. Stay there. Watch a man

  named Harry Vincent.

  "Learn everything that you can about him. Use the name that you used before—Ernest Manion. Go

  where Vincent goes. Report as usual."

  The short man nodded. He departed, and Prokop called the single agent who remained.

  "Agent R."

  THE girl entered the outer room. She had been standing near the door, awaiting her call. She slipped the

  robe from her shoulders, and looked quizzically at the hooded man who spoke to her.

  "You have your instructions," said Prokop.

  "Yes," replied Arlette. "Are there any further orders?"

  "None."

  "Then I shall go."

  "Wait!"—Prokop spoke commandingly. "There is something I wish to tell you."

  A puzzled expression appeared upon the girl's face.

  "Arlette," said Prokop, in a low voice. "there is no reason why you should be content with being a mere

  worker for our cause. I have a plan by which you can be much more important."

  The girl shrugged her shoulders.

  "I am perfectly content," she said.

  "Perhaps," replied Prokop, in soft, insinuating tones, "but that is because you do not look to the future.

  "I have power. My position is important. If you will follow my suggestions, you will gain anything you

  desire."

  "You have talked this way before," said the girl tersely. "But at that time there were others in the meeting

  room. I see your purpose to-night.

  "We are alone; but I do not fear you. Again, I tell you that I am not interested in any plan which you may

  make."

  "Be careful what you say," warned Prokop. "Remember, my word is law. You cannot oppose my will."

  "Your word is not law," replied Arlette. "You have no power of your own. The real power belongs with

  the one who directs you. You cannot deceive me with false promises."

  She turned to leave the room. Prokop stepped forward and seized her wrist. The girl turned; her eyes

  were furious as she stared at the mask which covered the man's face.

  "Listen to me," said Prokop grimly. "I have chosen you to be mine. You cannot oppose me."

  With his free hand, he lifted the cloth that hung over his face. The girl recoiled as she saw, for the first

  time, the evil look on Prokop's features.

  The man quickly dropped the mask, and gripped Arlette's wrist more tightly, as she struggled to free

  herself. He clutched her other arm, and drew her toward him. The girl did not attempt to scream. She

  fought fiercely in her efforts to escape.

  PROKOP'S strength was overpowering her. Then, suddenly, his grip relaxed. Gasping from exertion,

  Arlette staggered to the wall, and leaned there. For a few seconds she could not understand why the man

  had released her.

  Prokop was standing motionless, facing directly toward the door. Arlette looked in the direction of his

  gaze. She gasped in astonishment.

  The door had opened, and a man was standing there. He was tall and slender, and he wore a close-fitting

  suit of dark blue. His face was hidden behind a crimson mask. His hands, which rested upon his hips,

  were covered with red gloves.

  "So!" The soft exclamation came from the man who wore the crimson mask. "I have interrupted. Perhaps

  it is well that I came here to-night."

  Prokop still stood rigid, and motionless.

  The red-masked man looked at Arlette.

  "Who is the lady?" he questioned suavely.

  "Agent R," mumbled Prokop.

  The man with the crimson mask approached Arlette, and bowed. The girl stared in bewilderment. The

  masked man spoke slowly, uttering each word with careful pronunciation.

  "I am the Red Envoy," said the strange man. "Have you received your instructions?"

  The girl nodded.

  "You will forget what has occurred. I can assure you that it will not happen again."

  Arlette nodded again. The Red Envoy made another bow.

  "You may go," he said.

  Arlette walked slowly toward the door.

  The sudden interruption had left her dazed. She had really believed Prokop when he had told her that he

  was the controlling power of the organization. The appearance of the Red Envoy had startled and

  amazed her.

  When the girl had gone, the Red Envoy turned to Prokop. He made no reference to the incident which he

  had just interrupted. He spoke as though it had all been forgotten.

  "Give me your report," said the Red Envoy.

  CHAPTER XIV. HARRY RECEIVES A WARNING

  HARRY VINCENT stopped at the desk in the lobby of the Hotel Metrolite, and received a letter which

  the clerk handed him. He went to a chair that was set against a pillar, and opened the envelope. The note

  was in code, from Claude Fellows:

  Call at my office at three o'clock. Be careful. Some one may be following you. Make sure that your

  destination is not known.

  Responding instinctively to the warning, Harry glanced about him. As he gazed to the left, he noted a man

  sitting in a chair backed against the adjoining side of the pillar.

  The man was looking in his direction. He had a newspaper spread out before him, and his head bobbed

  back to read it, but he was too late to avoid Harry's questioning gaze.

  Pretending that he had not seen the man's action, Harry crumpled the note into a ball, and carried it over

  to the side of the lobby, where he dropped it in a wastebasket. The ink had already faded.

  Harry lounged about the lobby, anxious to see if the man who had been watching him would go to

  investigate the wastebasket.

  It was one o'clock now. Two hours to wait. Perhaps there would be important action ahead
.

  The last few days had been idle ones for Harry Vincent. Since he had left Bruce Duncan and Arlette

  DeLand, after they had lunched together, three days ago, he had found time passing slowly and tediously.

  He had seen Fellows that afternoon, three days ago. Since then, no word whatever, until this letter that

  had arrived to-day.

  He had been utterly unable to locate Bruce Duncan since. He had also called the Hotel Paragon a dozen

  times, and had asked for Arlette DeLand. She had not been there.

  So far, Harry was entirely in the dark regarding any unusual events which might be transpiring.

  He had received no explanation regarding the episode at the Pink Rat. He only knew that The Shadow

  had rescued him.

  Perhaps his coming interview with Claude Fellows would carry some enlightenment.

  "Some one may be following you"—that statement had appeared in the note from the insurance broker.

  With two hours ahead of him, Harry would have plenty of opportunity to shake the man off his tracks.

  He glanced toward the pillar, and made a quick inspection of the individual in the chair. He was a

  clever-looking chap, who was apparently paying no attention to what was going on about him.

  Harry smiled. Here was an excellent opportunity for a get-away. The paper which he had tossed in the

  wastebasket was bait.

  Harry strolled across the lobby, and entered the dining room. He was sure that the man would wait until

  he was gone; and would then obtain the letter that had been thrown away.

  There was a street entrance to the dining room. Harry walked straight through, reached the street, and

  hailed a cab. A few minutes later he was riding along Broadway.

  PICTURING himself in the other man's place, Harry was positive that his tracker would have preferred

  obtaining the letter to following him into the dining room, especially as it was lunch time. There was only

  one danger: that the man might have a companion. So Harry occupied his time with a series of maneuvers

  that would have thrown the most skillful sleuth from his trail.

  He left the taxicab, walked half a block, and took another cab in the opposite direction. He left that cab

  in the middle of a block, and walked slowly along the street toward an elevated station, loitering

  occasionally.

  Seeing an elevated train approaching from a distance, Harry made a mad dash for the steps. He mounted

  them two at a time, and caught the train just before the guard closed the gates.

  He smiled at the effectiveness of the trick. He was the last person on the train; if another man had

  followed him up the steps, he would have betrayed himself.

  Harry alighted a few stations up the line, and had lunch in a restaurant on a side street. Then he called a

  cab, and went directly to the Grandville Building.

  It was shortly before three o'clock when he arrived at the office of Claude Fellows, on the fifteenth floor.

  He was ushered into the inner office.

  Fellows was unusually congenial. He seemed satisfied with something that he had accomplished. He fairly

  beamed upon Harry.

  "I have a job for you," he said.

  "That's welcome news," replied Harry.

  Fellows read from a sheet of paper.

  "Remember this?" he said. "Professor Arthur Whitburn. Lake Marrinack, Connecticut. He wants a young

  man—single—college graduate—to assist him in some experimental work. He was greatly pleased with

  the letter which you wrote him."

  "Which I wrote him?"

  "I attended to that detail for you. I added a letter of recommendation from one of the officials of the

  Vesuvius Insurance Company. Mr. James Stohlmeyer, one of the vice presidents, had some very nice

  things to say about you."

  "Did you write that letter, too?" asked Harry, in admiration of the insurance broker's versatility.

  "No," replied Fellows, with a smile. "Mr. Stohlmeyer sent the letter himself, at my suggestion by long

  distance. He had never met you, but he knows me well, and he accepted my statement that you were a

  reliable young man."

  "The Vesuvius Company is located in Connecticut, isn't it?" asked Harry.

  "Yes," answered Fellows. "That's why a recommendation from that quarter was of value."

  "When shall I leave for Lake Marrinack?"

  "Early to-morrow morning. Your car is ready at the garage on Long Island. You can take the ferry

  across the Sound to Bridgeport.

  "Report to Professor Whitburn in the afternoon. Remember that you are acquainted with Mr. Stohlmeyer

  of the Vesuvius Insurance Company."

  Fellows handed Harry a newspaper clipping.

  "This is the advertisement you answered," he explained.

  HARRY grinned. This was interesting. He had obtained a job by proxy, and had probably been selected

  in preference to a great number of applicants.

  "I wonder," he said, "what Professor Whitburn is doing in the way of experiments."

  "That is for you to discover," said Fellows, folding his hands and leaning back in his chair. "I have been

  instructed to find out as much as possible regarding a man named Whitburn, and to see that he is

  protected against danger. You have been delegated to the mission.

  "You, yourself, are in some danger. You may have suspected that from the note which I sent you this

  afternoon. If this man is the Whitburn who I believe he is—namely, the one who is in danger—you will

  have plenty of action ahead of you.

  "If he is not the Whitburn whom I have been instructed to protect, you will be out of danger

  entirely—provided, of course, that you use discretion, and are not followed to Lake Marrinack.

  "For if you are in the wrong place, and your presence there is not known, you will be quite safe."

  "I prefer danger to inaction," remarked Harry.

  "Every man to his choice," said Fellows, with a smile. "For my part, I prefer inaction to danger. But we

  get a taste of both, in this business; and we have to take whichever comes along."

  Harry nodded in agreement.

  "It may be difficult to communicate with us from Lake Marrinack," observed Claude Fellows. "Your car

  carries its usual radio equipment. But you may not have a chance to use it.

  "If necessary, write a letter, and send it to me; but be careful. A long distance call—only in case of

  absolute necessity. You have my home phone number. But on this trip, you may receive assistance. A

  messenger may come to see you."

  "How shall I know him?"

  "When he first speaks to you, he will glance at his watch. He will appear to note that the time is wrong.

  He will ask you the correct time; he will set his watch five minutes in advance of yours."

  Harry waited silently for further instructions.

  "Tune in on Station WNX at six and nine—if a radio set is available, and you find it possible. Notify me if

  you are able to do that, when you send your first report. It may prove valuable later on.

  "Find out all you can about Professor Whitburn. Study the personnel of his establishment. Learn who is

  there, and why they are there. You have a real job ahead of you."

  HARRY made mental notes of all that Fellows had told him. Some of his instructions were familiar

  because of his previous work in the service of The Shadow.

  "Have you seen Bruce Duncan?" questioned the insurance broker. "That is, since the day when you had

  lunch with him?"

  "No. I have not."

  "We must communicate with him. It would be inadvisable for you
to see him. I shall attend to the matter.

  He is at his country home, I suppose?"

  "I have called him there, but have received no answer. I suppose he was in the city, and his servant was

  not at home. You should be able to reach him there. How is he concerned in this matter?"

  Fellows shrugged his shoulders.

  "I do not know," he replied. "I have instructions to communicate with him. That is all."

  "Could it involve—Arlette?" Harry's question was involuntary. It was not addressed to Claude Fellows;

  but the insurance broker heard it. He studied Harry carefully.

  "The girl interests you," he said.

  "She does," admitted Harry. "I told you how she helped me—that night, in the Pink Rat."

  "You still feel sure that she was the same girl that you saw with Bruce Duncan, the next day."

  "I am certain of it."

  Claude Fellows spread his hands, to indicate that the whole matter was a mystery to him.

  "It would be best to forget the girl," he said. Then, he added, with a smile: "Forget her—as much as

  possible. Your own work is more important. I told you that you may have been watched lately. Have you

  observed anything that would indicate that fact?"

  Harry mentioned the matter of the man in the lobby of the Hotel Metrolite. The insurance broker made a

  note of it.

  "Why go back to the hotel?" he asked. "You are away now. Stay somewhere else to-night. Go to Long

  Island in the morning."

  "Good idea," replied Harry. "I'll follow that suggestion."

  After leaving the office, Harry visited several stores, and purchased a new wardrobe, as well as a

  traveling bag.

  He registered at the Baronet Hotel, some squares away from the Metrolite. He went to the theater in the

  evening, and returned to his room shortly before midnight.

  Harry had just fallen asleep, when the telephone rang in his room. He sat upright in bed. Who could it

  be?

  He had told no one that he was stopping at the Baronet Hotel. Perhaps they had rung his room by

  mistake. Harry let the phone ring for fully a minute. Then, more curious than startled, he answered the

  call.

  "Mr. Vincent?" It was the voice of the hotel operator. "We have a call for you."

  Harry acknowledged his name. He had thought of using another name when he had registered, but had