The Plot Master s-71

by Maxwell Grant

  regarding Dadren's invention. The result would be a nationwide man-hunt.

  Harry had passed this news along to The Shadow. It brought no worriment to The Shadow's

  masklike visage. Dropping the blank report sheets into a wastebasket, The Shadow

  laughed softly. Staring from the window, he studied the varied vista of the national capital.

  His eyes gleamed.

  Somewhere close at hand lay the master plotter. Well did The Shadow know that the

  unknown enemy would not be far. Though Eric Hildrow had managed to keep his identity

  from The Shadow, he had failed to cover up his methods.

  At Death Island, at Cedar Cove, Hildrow had utilized an excellent spy system. Traitors had

  aided him in his attacks upon Professor Whitburn and Commander Dadren. When he chose

  to open a drive on Senator Releston, new minions would be on hand to aid him. The fact that

  Harry Vincent had discovered no spy at Releston's was not surprising to The Shadow.

  Hildrow's men were capable hands when it came to covering up their work.

  The Shadow suspected a traitor at Releston's. Stollart, Smedley or Williston—any one of the

  three might be the man. It was also possible that some regular visitor—Harry had listed

  more than a dozen of the senator's friends—could be the agent used by Hildrow.

  But nothing could be gained by uncovering the traitor. The Shadow had learned conclusively

  that Hildrow kept his real identity from the men who worked for him. The unmasking of a new

  spy would lead to a blind ending.

  The Shadow was playing a waiting game. That was why he liked Harry Vincent's news. If

  Senator Releston raised a hue and cry, Hildrow's task of gaining the plans would be

  toughened. The Shadow knew that Hildrow—the unknown—was probably receiving reports

  that matched those sent by Harry Vincent.

  IN all his surmises, The Shadow was correct. On this very afternoon, Eric Hildrow, guised as

  himself, was standing by the window of a living room apartment. He, too, was staring out

  over the city of Washington.

  A knock sounded at the door. Hildrow answered it to admit Marling. His chunky aid was

  glum. He passed a letter to his chief.

  "From Stollart," informed Marling. "Addressed to J. T. Ushwell, general delivery window at

  the Arlington post office -"

  "I can read the address," interposed Hildrow, testily. "You've read the letter; give me your

  opinion while I'm reading it."

  "The senator's going to spread the news," declared Marling. "That's enough trouble, isn't it?

  Meanwhile, Marquette and Vincent are hanging about. There's no chance to crack that vault.

  If Stollart could only get the combination -"

  "He never will," put in Hildrow. "Even if he did, a raid on the Hotel Barlingham would be a

  mistake. Gunmen would be good hands to aid a getaway -"

  "Well, if Stollart opened the vault, he'd be ready for a getaway."

  "He would be stopped before he started. No, Marling, I have been waiting solely for another

  purpose."

  "To trick The Shadow?"

  "Yes. He is our most powerful enemy."

  There was a short pause. While Hildrow speculated, Marling grunted.

  "Maybe The Shadow's still on Death Island," he declared. "There's been no sign of

  Whitburn; and you locked The Shadow in with him. Probably they're both dead -"

  "Don't be a fool!" snarled Hildrow, turning his pasty face toward Marling. "Do you think that

  was Bragg that shot up the mob in the Hotel Halcyon? What about the fellow who dropped in

  on the Northern Express? He got Wenshell and Hasker, didn't he?"

  "Yes. It looked very much like The Shadow -"

  "It was The Shadow! He's here in Washington. He knows that I've got to make another

  move. I've been outwaiting him, that's all. But only because I did not want to press matters.

  Never be too quick with any scheme, Marling, no matter how effective it may seem.

  Sometimes, a change of the wind may bring a new idea."

  "Well, the wind's changed, chief."

  "Hardly. This action of Releston's was to be expected. It merely means that I must utilize the

  plan that I have been holding for such an emergency."

  "You're going to Releston's yourself?"

  Hildrow chuckled.

  "I have been there, Marling," he declared, "as myself. Simply to talk about international trade

  relations. To emphasize the personality of Eric Hildrow. I am going to pay further visits to our

  friend the senator.

  "But when I go to get the plans, it will be in another guise. One that Releston—or any one

  else—will never suspect. That, however, will come later, Marling. The immediate job is to

  forestall the senator's present intention. He must be weaned from his idea of starting a

  search for Commander Dadren."

  "How can you stop him from doing that?" inquired Marling.

  "Through Dadren," chuckled Hildrow. "Marling, bring me that set of diagram tracings."

  "The photostatic copies that you made?"

  "No. The originals. I am going out with them. Remain here until I return."

  WHILE Marling was obtaining the plans, Hildrow donned the disguise that he used on the

  day of Dadren's capture. The black beard obscured his pallid features when he strolled from

  the little apartment.

  Ten minutes later, Hildrow walked into a drug store. He made a telephone call from a booth;

  then left and strolled in the direction of the Mall. Reaching Pennsylvania Avenue, he hailed a

  taxi and ordered the driver to take him to an address on the Northwest outskirts of the

  capital.

  The cabby took Hildrow for some foreign diplomat. Reaching the Naval Observatory, he

  threaded his way along Wisconsin Avenue, then turned to another street, still wondering

  from what embassy his passenger had come.

  Hildrow left the cab at the street corner that he had designated. He showed no haste as he

  strolled along for a space of about fifteen minutes. At last he reached a small vacant lot that

  automobiles used as a free parking space. Spying a dull green coupe, he approached and

  opened the door.

  A rough-faced fellow was behind the wheel. The man nodded when he saw Hildrow's black

  beard. A member of Korsch's crew, the waiting driver had recognized the disguise that the

  plotter was wearing.

  Hildrow gave no order. He simply took his seat in the coupe and sat silent while the driver

  started the car.

  The fellow was picking a route that avoided traveled highways. Most of the roads that he

  chose were well-paved, but only for a short stretch did he follow a course where traffic

  thickened. That was along a highway that led by the bank of the Potomac. Shortly afterward,

  the driver veered off to the right.

  Several miles further on, the coupe turned southward, heading directly toward the river.

  Coming through a woods, the driver chose a road where jagged rocks jutted up from muddy

  ruts. Then came a bend of the river. They had reached an isolated spot above the Great

  Falls of the Potomac.

  The river was wide at this point. The coupe had arrived close to the lower end of a

  thick-treed island that caused the spreading of the stream. Picking a grassy road that was

  scarcely more than wheel tracks, the driver swung the coupe toward the river bank. There a

  short bridge led over to the island.

  Lost in the bend of the river, spanning the narrowest section
of the stream, this bridge

  looked frail and forgotten. No chance motorist would have attempted to test the wavering

  structure. It took sharp eyes to see that the underpinning had been reinforced with new

  beams that made passage possible.

  Rolling across the bridge, the coupe came almost to a stop as it reached the end. It jolted

  downward. Then it cut through a roadless clearing and stopped beneath a clump of trees.

  Ordering the driver to remain, Hildrow alighted.

  WITH a small portfolio under his arm, the master plotter took a path that ended suddenly

  beside the walls of a small frame house. Some one spied him from the porch. It was Korsch.

  The hatchet-faced man nodded his welcome and opened the door for his chief. Hildrow

  went into a roughly furnished room that looked like an office. He sat down at a desk; Korsch

  entered and closed the door.

  "How is the prisoner?" quizzed Hildrow, in the sarcastic voice that he used with this

  disguise. "Has he shown any inclination to talk?"

  "No," growled Korsch. "Say, chief, if you'd let me put the clamps on the guy -"

  "He would still refuse to speak," interposed Hildrow. "No, Korsch, such tactics are useless"-

  he paused dryly, then added—"for the present."

  "Do you want to talk to him, chief?"

  "That is why I telephoned to the road house, to order your man to come for me."

  "All right, chief. Up in his room or down here?"

  "Here. A change of environment may please him."

  Korsch nodded. He turned and went out through the door. Eric Hildrow smiled through his

  black beard as he placed the portfolio upon the desk. The master plotter had completed his

  scheme.

  Here, within the portfolio, were the tracings that he had taken from Commander Joseph

  Dadren. Those stolen plans were the bait with which Eric Hildrow intended to trick his

  prisoner.

  CHAPTER XV. TERMS AGREED

  COMMANDER DADREN was blinking when he entered the little office. Korsch had brought

  him from a room where blinds were drawn. The light of afternoon proved dazzling to his

  eyes.

  Hildrow motioned to Korsch, who had followed Dadren with a ready gun. Korsch lowered the

  window shades halfway, then departed at Hildrow's bidding. The bearded plotter motioned

  Dadren to a chair.

  "Well, commander," he began, when the prisoner was seated, "how have you been enjoying

  yourself here?"

  No response from Dadren.

  "River air should be healthful at this season," continued Hildrow, "particularly along the

  Potomac. This spot is really picturesque. It is only a short trip from here down to the Great

  Falls."

  Dadren was showing sudden interest on his weather-scarred face. Until now, he had been

  unable to guess the location of the hidden cottage. He blinked again as he stared at his

  bearded captor.

  "And the Great Falls," resumed Hildrow, "are not far from Washington. So you see,

  commander, that your friends are really close at hand."

  Dadren eyed the bearded man suspiciously. This voluntary information sounded like a

  come-on game. That was the very effect that Hildrow was trying to produce. He wanted

  Dadren to be doubtful at the outset.

  "Korsch tells me," declared Hildrow, "that you will have nothing to say to him. In the

  meantime, I have been examining the plans that I took from you. I cannot decipher them,

  commander.

  "It appears to me that certain portions of the diagrams must be missing. I failed to gain the

  other plans that I sought. Therefore, I have been unable to check upon these drawings. In a

  word, commander, you have me at a loss."

  Hildrow was becoming serious. His tone had lost its sarcastic tinge. Dadren was still waiting

  to learn the connection between the first remarks and this admission of failure.

  "Possibly, commander," declared Hildrow, earnestly, "you could be prevailed upon to supply

  the missing portions of the plans from memory. Indeed, you might be persuaded to do so.

  Korsch, for instance, believes in harsh methods.

  "But I have considered that angle and I have come to a conclusion. It seems to me that we

  can reach an agreement that would be satisfactory to both of us. I have spoken of how close

  this island is to Washington. That is because I want you to know how near you are to

  freedom."

  A GRIM smile appeared upon Dadren's lips. The commander did not trust the disguised

  plotter. Deliberately, he challenged Hildrow's words.

  "This talk means nothing," asserted Dadren. "Until you admit your identity, I shall have no

  dealing with you."

  Hildrow eyed Dadren steadily. He studied every contour of the commander's rugged face.

  Then, in a cautious tone, he said:

  "To tell you who I am would endanger me. If you will listen to my plan and agree to a

  compromise, I shall reveal my identity. Is that agreeable?"

  "I make no promises in advance."

  "But you will hear my terms?"

  Dadren considered. Hildrow had promised much. Apparently, the man was anxious to make

  some deal. Dadren came to the conclusion that he had nothing to lose by acceding to the

  last request. He nodded his assent.

  "Very well," declared Hildrow. "Let me explain, first of all, why I wanted the plans that you

  were carrying to Washington. I knew that the possession of those plans might mean a

  chance for profit. That is why I seized them.

  "I am not an agent of a foreign government. I am working entirely on my own. I simply wanted

  to offer the plans to the highest bidder. Professor Whitburn destroyed the set he had. That

  helped me—for the existence of any duplicates would end my game. I was sure that I could

  gain your originals.

  "Money is what I am after. But the game has become too dangerous. Apparently, your

  secretary—I refer to Vincent—has delivered another set of plans to Senator Ross Releston.

  That leaves me with a useless possession."

  Slowly, Hildrow drew forth the tracings from the briefcase. He looked dejected as he spread

  the stolen diagrams upon the desk.

  "I hold these," he said bluntly, "and I hold you. Frankly, I doubt that I can force you to supply

  the missing links in these plans. Should I undertake to make you build a new model

  submarine, the process would require your removal to a foreign land. I lack the funds to

  accomplish it.

  "I know the general principle of your invention." Hildrow paused to study the tracings. "An

  undersea boat, equipped with chemical tanks into which water is introduced when the ship

  submerges. The chemical agency, I understand, will supply the motive power for the

  submarine.

  "Ships that are shells, lessened from the burden of heavy motors. Boats that can carry the

  maximum capacity of torpedoes. But the vital parts of this invention are missing from these

  plans. I congratulate you, commander, upon your canniness."

  "Proceed with your offer," suggested Dadren.

  "Very well," declared Hildrow, muffling a smile within his beard. "I am willing to return these

  plans to you. I am ready to release you, for a cash consideration.

  "Twenty-five thousand dollars is the price that I ask. That amount will reimburse me for the

  expense that I have undergone. It will allow me sufficient funds to clear the country. It will

  release me from an emb
arrassing situation."

  HILDROW waited. He was banking heavily upon Dadren's reaction. The commander did not

  know that Hildrow had dealt in murder. The treachery of Hasker had been the only evidence

  of Hildrow's scheming, so far as Dadren had observed.

  Dadren's smile became one of contempt. Meeting Hildrow's gaze, he voiced his opinion of

  the disguised crook. Dadren was blunt.

  "You are talking like a kidnaper," he declared. "A man in your position should be anxious to

  get out of it."

  "I am," admitted Hildrow. "Frankly, commander, I have not yet been branded as the type of

  criminal you mention. But I fear that I may be. That is another reason why I desire to make

  terms. That is why I have set the price so low.

  "Hear me out. If you accept my offer, you have merely to write a letter to Senator Ross

  Releston, telling him not to issue a statement that you have been abducted. According to the

  newspapers, your plane crashed between Cedar Cove and Washington.

  "In your letter to Senator Releston, you must add a mention of the price required. I shall

  dictate the letter for you to copy. State also that if the senator accedes, he has only to keep

  the news from the press. That will tell me that payment will be made."

  Dadren was thinking. His first impulse was to deride this criminal; but second thought

  advised him to consider further. Hildrow had issued veiled threats. Forced measures to

  make Dadren complete the plans; removal to some place where he would have to conduct

  new experiments under threats of death or torture—these were elements that Dadren did

  not overlook.

  The stern-faced commander did not fear such procedure. But he was thinking of his country;

  of what his invention would mean to the government that he had served. He knew what he

  thought Hildrow did not know: that these tracings were necessary to the other plans. He also

  knew that twenty-five thousand dollars was a sum that Senator Releston would produce

  without a murmur.

  "I might consider your terms," parried Dadren, with feigned reluctance. "I see, however,

  where they could prove unsatisfactory. How could the senator know that he will actually gain

  my release after he has paid the sum you ask?"

  "I do not ask the money in advance," purred Hildrow, now becoming persuasive. "I merely