A pencil appeared, and across this single paragraph the white hand wrote the word "Correct." Then the paper was laid aside. The moving finger considered each name in the list of Mayo's antagonists. Each name bore a brief account beneath it.
The pencil was busy. It crossed out name by name until only two remained. The finger checked the first:
Sidney Delmuth. Advertising man and promoter. Has been connected with various businesses competitive with enterprises backed by Sherwood Mayo. Once brought suit against Mayo, but matter was settled out of court. Mayo has threatened lawsuits against Delmuth on several occasions, but has never gone through with them. Delmuth has reputation for shrewd dealings.
The hand moved to the next name:
Paul Hawthorne. Real-estate man of doubtful wealth. Reputed to be on the verge of bankruptcy; also to have a considerable amount of money. Most of his enterprises have failed. Rumor that he makes his money and lets others lose. Has been sued by many individuals. Only opposition to Mayo is matter of summer resort in Massachusetts, which Hawthorne promoted in opposition to Mayo. Hawthorne not only located resort near Mayo's Massachusetts estate, but managed to buy acres which Mayo had intended to purchase. Hawthorne managed this through Mayo's neglect to exercise option on ground.
In compiling his list, Mann had marked Delmuth as being one of the most likely persons to be opposed to Sherwood Mayo. He had mentioned Hawthorne as mere possibility.
The Shadow, in taking advantage of Mann's suggestion, had apparently agreed with the opinion on Delmuth, but not with the one given on Hawthorne. For these two names had been selected; all others ignored.
Now, as though inspired by an afterthought of the master brain, the hands drew forth another paper. This was a report sent by Harry Vincent, which Rutledge Mann had seen fit to forward. The report was detailed to the extreme. It described the house in which Grant Chadwick had been murdered. It gave the exact location of the building, and a diagram marked the position of the deserted shacks near the railroad. These old houses were only a few hundred yards from Grant Chadwick's home.
It also told of Harry's visit to Havre de Grace, Maryland. He had gone there on the train that Denby Chadwick had taken a few nights before. He had visited the farmhouse where Chadwick had stayed. Attached to the report was a copy of the railway time-table.
The Shadow's hands held these two papers momentarily; then laid them aside, beyond the range of the luminous circle that was cast by the shaded lamp. The hands busied themselves with a sheet of paper and a fountain pen.
In neatly formed letters, a code message was inscribed. It was folded and tucked in an envelope. Using another pen, the hand wrote:
Instructions to be given Stuart Bruxton.
This was inclosed in a larger envelope, that already bore the typewritten name and address of Harry Vincent.
A click sounded. The room was plunged in darkness.
The Shadow's work was ended. In a short time, this mysterious man had gone over all of his agent's material. Nothing he had done indicated either a definite solution or an involved campaign. The notation of certain facts — an order concerning Stuart Bruxton — that was all.
But from the midst of the darkness of that little room came a soft, creepy laugh. It was mirthless and foreboding. Echoing weirdly from the walls, the laugh was more expressive than words. The sinister understanding of that echoed sound indicated a knowledge of unknown matters. It presaged defeat and destruction for those who thrived in crime. Had The Shadow, from his brief perusal of his agent's statements, gained the key to mysterious deaths and looming dangers?
Only The Shadow knew!
Chapter X — Stuart Goes On Duty
Stuart Bruxton was seated in the smoking car of a two-coach train that was wending its curving way through the hills of northern Massachusetts. He was traveling on a branch line, and was alone in the car.
To Stuart, the purpose of this quiet journey was puzzling. He was acting upon instructions given him by Harry Vincent. He was going to a place called Greenhurst.
This hamlet, Stuart had learned, was a budding summer resort that had failed to bloom. In Greenhurst, he was to keep a watchful eye on the affairs of two men; Paul Hawthorne, a real-estate promoter who had not yet managed to put Greenhurst on the map of Massachusetts; and Sherwood Mayo, a multimillionaire of many enterprises.
What had these two to do with strange events that had occurred in Maryland? Could there be any connection between them and the sinister old man who had sought Stuart's life?
Hawthorne was managing the affairs of a summer colony. Mayo dwelt on an estate, resisting the invasion of what he considered to be feudal rights.
From Harry, Stuart had learned that some hostility was supposed to exist between the two men. For some reason, both should be observed, although Harry had been very meager in his information. Ever since Stuart, anxious to aid in the cause of justice, had agreed to work with Harry, he had felt a positive conviction that some directing hand was in back of his rescuer's activities. Harry had told Stuart that further instructions would reach him at Greenhurst. He had also indicated the manner in which those instructions would be received. It had made Stuart wonder. As the train pulled into the little station of Greenhurst, Stuart felt a sudden interest. This was a campaign that called for diplomacy. He must meet two men and win their confidence. That would be easy with Hawthorne. Mayo might be a different matter. Stuart decided that Paul Hawthorne would be his best approach.
There were no houses near the station. The summer colony was a mile away. Stuart entered a touring car that bore a sign "Taxi." He started for the village. On the way he questioned the driver about Paul Hawthorne.
"You're going to the Inn?" queried the driver. "Well, it's only a little spell up the road to Mr. Hawthorne's.
'Bout a fifteen-minute walk, I should say. The house sets back from the road apiece.
"I reckon he's out running round the township, marking out places for new cottages.
There ain't many folks buying them, though. He's always home in the evenings. You can telephone him from the hotel." Stuart registered at the Inn. It was a building left over from a previous attempt to colonize Greenhurst. Stuart was given a room at the end of a wing, on the third floor. The hotel was somewhat modernized, so Stuart was not dissatisfied with the surroundings.
The other guests were typical residents of an obscure resort. Stuart went in the dining room when the bell rang for dinner. After that, he lounged a while in the lobby. Finally, he called Paul Hawthorne's cottage. A brisk voice answered him. Stuart gave his name and explained that he had come to Greenhurst from New York. He mentioned that he would like to know about real-estate opportunities. Hawthorne eagerly agreed to meet him. He said he would come to the Inn in his car. In ten minutes, Hawthorne arrived. He proved to be a pleasant-faced man, some forty-odd years of age. He shook hands warmly and invited Stuart to come up to the cottage.
They left the hotel, and were soon in the living room of Hawthorne's home, chatting as though they were old friends. Hawthorne was interesting to Stuart. The man possessed a lulling glibness; but Stuart felt that his cordiality was something that he adopted with all prospects.
"By the way," said Hawthorne, "you don't happen to know Sherwood Mayo, who lives near here?"
"Mayo, the millionaire?"