The Red Menace s-4

by Maxwell Grant

  passenger was too good to miss.

  "Times Square," said the man in back.

  Once again, The Shadow had foiled those who had sought his life!

  CHAPTER XXV. THE SHADOW HEARS

  PROKOP sat sullenly in his apartment. He was seated in an armchair, his eyes gazing at the opposite

  wall. He was a shrewd and capable man; even though he was neither subtle nor tactful. He disliked work

  that took too long to finish. That was why he was in an ugly humor.

  It was nearly twenty-four hours since the last meeting, at which he had been foiled in his efforts to seize

  Arlette. Prokop had set the meeting early, in hopes that the Red Envoy would not put in an appearance.

  He had also expected that the Red Envoy would visit his apartment; in fact, he had waited up until after

  one o'clock. But the man of mystery had not arrived.

  At this particular moment, Prokop was wondering about the Red Envoy. The man who came from

  Moscow was amazingly well-informed. He seemed to possess some access to the secrets of the gang.

  Prokop resented this surveillance; at the same time, he feared the Red Envoy. Prokop was the type of

  man who respected only those whom he feared.

  Prokop had learned one fact of interest during the day. An elevator had fallen in a warehouse near the

  home of Prince Zuvor. He had gained this news through the papers—not from one of his agents.

  The fact that the elevator had crashed was interesting; that no one had been found in the wreckage was

  disappointing.

  For Prokop had recently learned all about that elevator, through his agent, Fritz Bloch, the man who

  posed as Prince Zuvor's servant.

  The elevator had been adjusted for a catastrophe. But Prokop had hoped that some one would have

  been in it.

  A slight sound interrupted Prokop's musings. He looked up to see the Red Envoy standing before him.

  The mysterious personage had arrived unseen. He had entered Prokop's apartment unannounced. Now

  he was looking at Prokop; and his lips formed a straight, firm line beneath the crimson mask.

  The Red Envoy did not speak. His expression appeared to be one of inquiry. He awaited a statement

  from Prokop.

  When the latter had recovered from his astonishment, he went to the bookcase, and brought out his

  reports. When he turned around, he saw the Red Envoy sitting in a chair.

  "I have very little progress to report," said Prokop, in a reluctant voice.

  "So I expected," replied the Red Envoy dryly. "That is one reason why I did not visit you last night."

  PROKOP became a trifle nervous. The Red Envoy was between him and the door. As he looked at the

  man in the crimson mask, he fancied he saw something, beyond—a strange, dark shadow that rested just

  inside the door.

  He stared for a moment; then, believing that the sudden arrival of the Red Envoy had started his

  imagination, he turned his attention back to the reports.

  "Regarding Whitburn," he said slowly. "I received word through Agent C, who was present at last night's

  meeting. He says that Agent E is slowly getting results. He is afraid to make too sudden a step."

  "What have you done about this man Vincent—the one who was to be watched at the Metrolite Hotel?"

  "I shall read you the complete report," said Prokop. "Agent F registered at the Metrolite Hotel, under the

  name of Ernest Manion. He watched Vincent.

  "The man received a letter. Manion obtained it. It proved to be a blank sheet of paper. We have tested it

  with chemicals. No writing appears.

  "The letter was evidently a blind; for while Agent F was obtaining it, Vincent left the hotel. Agent F sent a

  message to that effect.

  "In the meantime I received a message from Agent E, the man who is with Whitburn—under the name of

  Stokes. He had learned that Whitburn intended to hire Vincent to fill the vacancy on his staff."

  Prokop looked at the Red Envoy, expecting some token of approval; but the masked man made no sign.

  "Agent F reported later that he had picked up Vincent's trail. Vincent had entered a theater. F awaited

  instructions.

  "I notified him that Vincent was going to Lake Marrinack. I told F to trail him, if possible. Vincent did not

  return to the Metrolite Hotel; F followed him to the Baronet Hotel.

  "The next morning, Vincent managed to elude Agent F; but he turned up, as we had expected, at Lake

  Marrinack."

  "Is he there now?" asked the Red Envoy.

  "Yes. Agent E tried to eliminate him by what would have appeared to be accidental death. Vincent

  escaped the trap.

  "Before that, he communicated with some one in the village."

  "He must be eliminated immediately."

  "I sent word to that effect to Agent E. I told him to act quickly."

  "Send him further instructions. He must obtain the plans as quickly as possible. You have accomplished

  results in the past, Prokop. This is your greatest work. We can delay no longer."

  Prokop made notes; then he brought up the next subject.

  "Report on Bruce Duncan," he said. "Agent R has made no progress. Duncan has left town; she does not

  know where he has gone. Agent R is negligent."

  "You speak from malice, Prokop."

  "I am telling you a fact!" Prokop suddenly restrained his anger, as he noted the sternness of the Red

  Envoy's countenance. "My report is correct," he added, less bitterly. "Agent R has accomplished

  nothing."

  "Put another agent on the case. Immediate results are not necessary, even though they are desirable. This

  matter of Whitburn is most important."

  Prokop nodded. The Red Envoy made no further statement. That subject was closed. Prokop continued

  with his report.

  "This refers to Prince Zuvor," he said, with a shrewd gleam in his eyes. "I told you that the prince was

  dangerous.

  "A man has called to see him. The man is a millionaire—his name is Lamont Cranston." Prokop's voice

  became suddenly triumphant.

  "This man Cranston," he added, "carries the sign of the Seventh Star."

  This time Prokop believed that he caught an expression of astonishment upon the Red Envoy's lips.

  "That means plotting," said Prokop emphatically. "Prince Zuvor is a menace. He will make trouble for our

  cause. We should make an example of him."

  "You are anxious to dispose of Prince Zuvor?"

  "I am," admitted Prokop. "While he lives, my agents wonder why I do not strike him. Three of our men

  are detailed to watch him.

  "Long vigil without result injures their morale. I have a plan which will surely dispose of him. I ask your

  permission to use it."

  "What is your plan?"

  "Fritz Bloch," said Prokop, in a low voice, "is our Agent K. He is posing as Prince Zuvor's servant. He,

  above all others, desires the death of Zuvor. He has heard so much said in Zuvor's home—so many

  statements denouncing our cause -"

  "I understand," interrupted the Red Envoy quietly. "Go on with your scheme."

  "My plan is this," explained Prokop. "I shall give Agent K one of the new bombs—with the time-clock

  attachment. He can plant it in Zuvor's house. Then pouf! It will be the end of the Zuvor and his czarist

  servant, Ivan Shiskin."

  THE Red Envoy was thoughtful. He seemed to be considering the merits of Prokop's scheme.

  "I shall do this at the meeting," continued Prokop. "In the presence of all our agents, I shall delegate

  Agent K to the work. They will be exuberant -"<
br />
  The Red Envoy held up a crimson-clad hand.

  "What happened at Prince Zuvor's house last night?" he questioned.

  "I have not heard," admitted Prokop.

  "There was an elevator accident near there -" began the Red Envoy.

  Prokop smiled as he interrupted. He admired the insight of the Red Envoy.

  The masked man knew that the accident had been the work of the Red agents, even though Prokop had

  not revealed the fact that his men had tampered with the elevator.

  "That," said Prokop, "was one of Prince Zuvor's safe ways of leaving his house. A man should have died

  in that crash—somehow, he must have escaped."

  "Who was the man who escaped?" came the Red Envoy's question.

  "Cranston, perhaps," answered Prokop. "I have not yet called Agent G, to learn if a report has come

  from Fritz Bloch."

  "Make the call immediately."

  Prokop went to the telephone. He gave a number.

  Prokop had an ingenious method of communicating with his agents. At each meeting, an announcement

  was made of a new telephone number, where one of the agents—usually Agent G—would be stationed.

  Any messages were phoned by agents to that number.

  By calling the number himself, Prokop could learn what the agents were doing, and could leave

  instructions for them.

  To-night, he inquired if Agent K had phoned, Receiving an affirmative reply, Prokop began to take down

  words that were given him over the telephone, by Agent G. Fritz Bloch had sent a report in code.

  The verbal message made no sense when Prokop had copied it. By referring to a code list among his

  papers, Prokop translated the message, and quickly told Fritz Bloch's message to the Red Envoy.

  "It was Cranston who came to Zuvor's last night," said Prokop. "The prince sent him away by the secret

  method. Something must have gone wrong. I imagine that the elevator broke before Cranston had a

  chance to enter it."

  "What else does Fritz say?"

  "He tells me that Cranston made an appointment to meet Prince Zuvor at his home, one week from last

  night. The appointment will be at nine o'clock. They will then discuss important matters."

  The Red Envoy was thoughtful. Prokop, staring past the masked man, again observed that blackness that

  seemed so thick by the door. He became a trifle worried.

  He was about to make a remark, when the Red Envoy spoke. This time the lips were expressive. They

  indicated the cunning thoughts that were in the man's brain.

  "I agree with you," said the Red Envoy. "Zuvor is a menace. He must be destroyed. But you must be

  patient—for six days, at least.

  "Our one great task is to obtain Whitburn's plans and diagrams. Until we have them, any other action

  would be unwise.

  "However, I am confident that we shall obtain the plans, within a few days. So I shall now tell you what I

  propose should be done with Zuvor. My scheme will enable us to dispose of two enemies instead of

  one."

  Prokop sensed that the masked man had thought out an ingenious arrangement. The next words of the

  Red Envoy proved that fact.

  "Call a meeting," said the Red Envoy. "Make it the night before Cranston is to come to see Zuvor. Give

  the bomb to the proper agent. Have it timed for ten minutes after nine. Place it in Zuvor's house. The

  explosion will kill both our enemies."

  "And Ivan Shiskin, also," added Prokop, in a pleased voice. "I shall give the bomb to Fritz Bloch—Agent

  K."

  "No," said the Red Envoy thoughtfully. "Send Fritz a gray card. We do not want him at the meeting, if

  there is any danger that Prince Zuvor might suspect.

  "Should Fritz come to the meeting, give him the bomb. If he is not present, send him a green card—which

  will tell him to leave immediately, because of threatening danger. Then he will be away.

  "Agents B and M—those who are now watching Zuvor's house—can attend to the planting of the

  bomb."

  "Very good," replied Prokop. "I shall summon both of them to the meeting. How about Agent

  F—Volovick? I sent him a yellow card, you remember."

  "Bring him to the meeting. He has been away long enough. Send him a black card."

  Prokop could not control his delight, as he carefully wrote down the Red Envoy's instructions. The

  spectacle of both Prince Zuvor and Lamont Cranston being blown to eternity was most pleasing to his

  imagination.

  "But remember," interposed the Red Envoy, "this must not go into effect unless we have managed to

  obtain Whitburn's plans. But I expect to have them— very soon. I myself am going to Lake Marrinack."

  This prospect surprised Prokop. He had not expected action on the Red Envoy's part. For a moment, he

  was tempted to object to this usurping of his power; then he realized that the Red Envoy was master.

  "I shall go there," declared the Red Envoy. "Notify your agent to expect me. I shall gain the plans. When

  I do—you will receive a telephone call—by long distance. It will give you time to make immediate

  arrangements.

  "After making such arrangements, either remain here or leave a note, telling me where to call for the

  tickets—and just what my schedule will be. I have the passports."

  Prokop bowed in acknowledgment.

  The Red Agent rose from his chair. As he did so, the shadow behind him seemed to grow. Prokop saw

  it, and uttered a startled cry. The Red Envoy, turning toward the door, obscured Prokop's view.

  "What is the matter?" questioned the masked man.

  "Nothing," said Prokop. He could see the door now—the blotch of darkness was no longer there. "I

  must be excited; I thought I saw something behind you."

  The Red Envoy made no reply. He walked to the door, opened it, and was gone. Prokop watched from

  his window, standing at the side, and peering through the crack of a shade. He did not see the Red

  Envoy in the street.

  There was a reason. The Red Envoy took off his mask and gloves as he went down the dark stairs, and

  obscured his face in the collar of his coat.

  When he left the door of the apartment house, he kept close to the wall, and was scarcely visible as he

  moved rapidly away.

  People who were passing him did not see him; had they looked closely, they would have noticed his tall

  form, as it went along beside the dark wall.

  But even the keenest observer would not have detected the shape which appeared a moment later.

  For this second figure was nothing more than a shadow, which virtually grew from the darkness. It

  seemed to flit along the sidewalk, as it took up the trail of the Red Envoy.

  CHAPTER XXVI. HARRY MAKES A CAPTURE

  "VINCENT!"

  Harry Vincent sat up in bed when he heard the hissed exclamation close beside him. He had been half

  asleep when the summons had come; now he wondered if he was dreaming. A voice spoke softly, a few

  feet away.

  "Sh!" came the warning. "This is Marquette!"

  "What's the matter?" whispered Harry.

  "Stokes and Marsh are planning something," replied Marquette. "That's why I tipped you off to go to bed

  early. I went to my room; then sneaked downstairs. I overheard them, in the kitchen."

  "What did they say?"

  "They are going somewhere. I suspected it this afternoon, when I came upon them unexpectedly at the

  dock. Now they have waited until we went upstairs."

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "I'm going with them. S
tokes came back from the mainland, an hour ago, in the motor boat. He brought

  back a lot of empty sacks that Professor Whitburn ordered. They're still in the boat. I'm going to hide

  under them."

  "What shall I do?"

  "Stay here. Get dressed and watch. I don't know what the game is; and we've got to watch everything.

  Be on the job. Come down to the lake when the boat pulls away, and try to trace the direction in which it

  goes. Then you may know where I am."

  The secret-service man slipped from the room. Harry dressed hurriedly, his mind in chaos.

  It was the third night since the episode in the tower room. He had talked with Marquette during the

  interim.

  They had agreed that trouble might begin at any time; but they had expected it on the island. Yet here

  were Stokes and Marsh planning to leave.

  What did it mean?

  Professor Whitburn had announced that he would not require the services of any one during the evening.

  He had important work to do in his study. His four assistants were off duty.

  Stokes and Marsh—the two secret enemies—were taking advantage of the opportunity; but Harry could

  not guess their purpose.

  When he came downstairs, the living room was deserted. The men had gone; Marquette had followed

  them; at least, so Harry supposed.

  But he was wrong; he heard a noise outside, and had barely time to slip back to the stairs.

  Harry stole softly to his room, and crawled into the bed. He listened intently. He heard a slight sound in

  the hallway. He figured it was either Stokes or Marsh; coming up to see if he was asleep.

  Harry breathed a trifle heavily; just sufficiently so that the sound could reach the ears of the unseen

  listener. He fancied that he heard footsteps steal away down the hall.

  A SUDDEN desire for action prompted Harry. He moved across the floor to the window. The sash was

  already open; silently, he went through.

  There was a roof beneath, to one side a narrow projection that extended from the doorway which the

  men must use to leave the house. Harry clung there, and a moment later he heard Stokes and Marsh

  come outside. They stood directly beneath him.

  "He's asleep." Harry could make out the words spoken by Marsh. "No need to worry about him."