The lieutenant nodded.
“It is fortunate,” added Von Werndorff, “that our flight was so successful. Within three days we head south for Rio de Janeiro. On our way to Brazil, I shall expect you to perform an important work. Enter this room, place the body of — of my friend in a box, and remove it to the corridor. Be sure that it is weighted after you have taken it up the companionway; then through the hatch — into the ocean—”
“I understand,” responded the lieutenant. “I shall assume the responsibility. There are members of the crew whom I can trust. They need never know what the box contains.”
“Correct.” declared the commander. “You are sure that you can handle this, Fritz?”
“Without difficulty, Herr Captain.”
Von Werndorff sighed in relief. He trusted Fritz as he would his own son. By passing the first burden to his subordinate, and letting Von Salzburg employ others to aid him, the commander was clearing the matter to perfection.
CAPTAIN VON WERNDORFF congratulated himself upon his methodical decision as he rode by automobile to the banquet that had been arranged in his honor. Nevertheless, he could not forget the misfortune that had come to his friend, the baron.
Smoldering vengeance still rankled Von Werndorff’s thoughts. In his pocket he felt the two shreds of evidence — the cigarette butt and the scrawled signature. He felt sure that Von Tollsburg had smoked the cigarette, and had written upon the paper. Therefore, these articles were no clew to the murderer. They were evidence only that Baron von Tollsburg had been aboard the Munchen. Therefore, Von Werndorff did not want them.
As the automobile crossed a bridge, Von Werndorff tossed the folded slip of paper from the window. Weighted by the butt of the cigarette, the tiny object sailed over the rail and dropped into the Chicago River.
Henry Arnaud!
The thought of that man angered Von Werndorff. Fixed in the German commander’s mind was the positive belief that Arnaud had been in the secret cabin; that he was responsible for Von Tollsburg’s death; that he had overlooked the torn paper and the cigarette stub as articles that were inconsequential. Well did Von Werndorff know that it would be not only futile, but dangerous, to seek Henry Arnaud, now that the man had left the jurisdiction of the dirigible.
In only one chief surmise was Von Werndorff correct; namely, in his suspicion that Henry Arnaud had been in the secret cabin. But Von Werndorff was wrong when he believed that Henry Arnaud overlooked the two fragments of evidence. Arnaud had discovered them; he had left them there; but he had noted them as clews that Von Werndorff had not suspected.
Why would Baron von Tollsburg, whose pipe and pouch showed his preference in tobacco, have smoked a mild Egyptian cigarette? Why, again, would the baron have scrawled his signature twice upon a torn slip of paper?
Von Werndorff had not noted a difference in each signature; nor had he seen the beginning of a third, at the spot where the paper had been torn. Henry Arnaud, alone, had observed these factors.
As The Shadow, he had gained two clews to the murderer; he knew that the man smoked a particular brand of cigarettes — called Pharos — and he knew that the killer had spent his time endeavoring to duplicate the signature of Baron Hugo von Tollsburg.
These objects — like dozens of other cigarette butts and many more slips of scrawled signatures — had evidently been consigned to the ventilator shaft, but had dropped back into the berth.
In his vindictiveness toward Arnaud, Captain von Werndorff shot wide of the truth. Not for one minute did his mind center upon actuality. Little did he know that at that very moment, the man whom he had met as Henry Arnaud was seeking the trail of the murderer who had killed Baron Hugo von Tollsburg!
The Shadow had seen; The Shadow had discovered; The Shadow was bound upon a new mission as an avenger of mysterious crime!
Even while Captain von Werndorff was on his way to the banquet, the work of The Shadow was well under way. The agents of The Shadow had already been ordered on their missions. The Shadow had already started on this trail of murder which might lead to where no one knew — not even The Shadow — as yet!
CHAPTER IV
THE TRAIL
BACK along the path which the airship Munchen had taken on its trip of death, a lone man watched, parked in his car along a country road. The man was Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, and the lowered top of his convertible coupe showed his features as the flashes of an airway beacon streaked the night.
To Harry Vincent, this night was the beginning of a new adventure. Harry’s life had been filled with adventures ever since the momentous time when he had met The Shadow. Long ago, a mysterious hand had drawn Harry from the brink of suicide; a whispered voice had bidden him to obey; and henceforth, Harry had served an unknown master.
Stationed in New York, supplied with all the funds that he required, Harry Vincent constantly awaited The Shadow’s bidding. A young man of ability and resourcefulness, Harry had proven an excellent operative whenever The Shadow had required him to combat crime.
For the past month, Harry had been free from duty. Then, shortly before noon on this very day, he had received a telephone call from an investment broker named Rutledge Mann. That meant instructions from The Shadow — for Mann was a contact agent, who, like Harry, served The Shadow.
Harry’s instructions had been to drive to this lonely spot, and to await certain developments. Harry had arrived two hours ago. He was still waiting in his silent, darkened coupe, the lowered top being also in accord with orders.
A rhythmic hum came from overhead. Harry became immediately attentive. He stared upward and saw a hovering light that twinkled three times.
This was the signal that Harry had expected. He watched the moving light. The token in the sky was different from that of an ordinary passing plane. It did not move with steady, rapid sweep; instead, it held its position momentarily; then sidled slowly away, twinkling its occasional triplet, like a gigantic firefly seeking for a place to descend.
Harry knew the reason for the odd behavior of the light. This was no ordinary plane above; it was an autogyro, the type of aircraft that The Shadow frequently utilized. At the control of that ship was The Shadow himself. That fact, Harry knew.
THE autogyro was picking a circuitous course. Harry started the motor of the coupe. He edged the car into the road and slowly started in the direction which The Shadow’s plane had taken.
Now appeared a change in the signal from above. The color of the twinkling light had changed. It was green instead of white. That was the final signal. It meant that the ship was preparing for a descent.
Harry parked the coupe and turned out the headlights. He clambered from his car and ascended a bank beside the road.
The autogyro’s lights were hovering with design. Still flashing their green signal, they gave Harry opportunity to head in their direction, and thus note the exact spot of the landing.
Slowly, the machine descended. Above the dim horizon, Harry could see the revolving wing that whirled above the ship. The shape of the autogyro was blotted out as it came to earth close by the trees. Harry was running across the field.
When the young man reached his destination, he saw a tiny glow beside the bulking shape of the autogyro. He knew the meaning of that light. The Shadow had stepped from his plane, and was awaiting the arrival of his agent. Harry stopped a few yards away from the invisible man who held the flashlight. He saw the torch move; and he followed.
What was The Shadow seeking? Why had the mysterious personage of darkness dropped from the night at this isolated spot?