— " He went no further. Sidney Delmuth's eyes were glowing. This picture of grand success intrigued him. Benson arose and waved his hand toward the door.
"Grady and I are ready," said the old man. "We are leaving in the car. You know where we will be. Communicate with us in the secret method."
Delmuth nodded.
"I'll go first," he said. "I'll talk to Shamlin and Harmon — make sure that all is well. They'll go with me when I leave. If I don't come back, the path is clear."
He left the room. A few moments later, Delmuth reappeared on the street outside the little restaurant. Two men approached him. A voice spoke low.
"Nobody been around," one of the two men was saying. "It's O.K.."
"Is the cab nearby?" Delmuth asked.
"Right around the corner."
The group moved away. A few minutes later, a taxi rolled down the street. Harmon was at the wheel. In the back seat sat Sidney Delmuth and his underling, Shamlin. Delmuth was talking to Shamlin.
"Have you heard from the men you sent to the Green Mill?" he asked.
"No," answered Shamlin. "They were coming back to Gorky's place, if anything happened. That's my regular hangout, you know. I told Gorky I was going to be up here."
"You shouldn't have said anything about it," Delmuth reprimanded him.
"Gorky's O.K."
As the cab disappeared down the street, Benson and Grady came from the entrance of the little restaurant. The old man and his companion walked toward the corner.
As they proceeded on their path, a figure emerged from the darkness on the other side of the street. Neither man saw it. They did not notice that strange shape which kept pace with them, moving like a living shadow.
The two men reached Grady's car. The figure flitted toward them and merged with the wall of a building, not more than a dozen feet away.
"Let's go, Grady," said the old man. "We have a long ride ahead of us — to Massachusetts." Grady grunted in response. The men entered the car. The vehicle moved along the street. Then, from the darkness beside the building, came a soft, taunting laugh.
Plans had been made. One plotter and his underling were on the way. The plans had been unheard. But the plotters were not leaving unseen.
The Shadow, man of swift action, had returned to New York from his rescue. With Shamlin as his clue, he had gone to Gorky's, and had learned the gangster's station. There, in the dark, he stood watching two murderous men depart.
What was their work to be? Whether The Shadow knew or did not know, his purpose would be the same. He alone could thwart the scheme that had brewed tonight.
Chapter XVII — Word by Radio
It was late in the afternoon. A gloom was settling about Paul Hawthorne's cottage.
Hawthorne and Stuart were seated on the porch, smoking their pipes.
Stuart had dropped in on Hawthorne with a purpose. It was the night before last that he had had his adventure at Mayo's lodge. The next afternoon, he had seen Mayo's plane return from New York. Stuart had decided it would be inadvisable to call on Sherwood Mayo that evening. He had decided to wait another day. Now he was sounding out Hawthorne, to tell whether or not a visit would be wise.
"Have you seen Mayo since he returned?" asked Stuart.
"No," said Hawthorne. "I might run up there tonight. Would you like to come along?"
"Sure," said Stuart.
"I'll stop for you at the Inn," said Hawthorne. "I'll be there in my car after dinner."
Strolling down the road, Stuart found himself anticipating tonight's visit. He felt sure that the Filipino had not recognized him during the combat, two nights ago. After all, a visit to Mayo's was a bold way in which to avoid suspicion.
There was a letter for Stuart at the Inn. He looked at the envelope, and decided it must be from Harry Vincent.
Stuart had been expecting such a letter. Harry had instructed him to watch for one, and to be sure that no one saw him read it, for it might contain important instructions.
Opening the letter in a corner of the lobby, Stuart eagerly devoured its contents. It contained both information and orders; one as surprising as the other.
There will be danger at Greenhurst, soon. Stay with Sherwood Mayo constantly. The old man who works with Grady is named Jeremiah Benson. Inform me immediately if you hear any reference to that name. If Mayo leaves Greenhurst, try to accompany him. Be near a radio at either six o'clock or nine o'clock. The announcement from WNX will have a message for you. Listen for any words that are emphasized. They will be the message.
This is a test for future use.
Stuart reread the letter. It was clear on every point, but he wanted to be sure that he understood all its contents well enough to remember the data, for he intended to destroy the note immediately. Looking across the lobby, he repeated certain facts; "Jeremiah Benson — stay with Mayo — WNX at six or nine — "
Nodding, Stuart again glanced at the letter. His eyes stared in bewilderment. While he had been looking away, the writing had completely disappeared!
Stuart turned the paper over, and found the other side blank. He crumpled the sheet and tossed it in the wastebasket.
"Clever idea," thought Stuart, as he entered the dining room.
It was after six o'clock when he had reached the hotel. He would have to wait for the nine-o'clock broadcast. He could hear it at Mayo's. Stuart had been out all afternoon; otherwise he would have received the letter a few hours before.
Hawthorne arrived after dinner. He and Stuart rode up to Mayo's home. Stuart noticed that Hawthorne was moody and thoughtful.
"What's the matter?" Stuart inquired.
"I'm just wondering," returned Hawthorne, "wondering about that last time we were up to Mayo's place. Do you remember that package of envelopes Mayo brought out of the desk drawer?" Stuart did remember them, and he felt a bit uneasy at the reference. He decided, however, that it would be best to draw Hawthorne out.
"Yes," he replied. "As I remember it, he said that they would be of interest to you."
"But he found out they were the wrong ones." Hawthorne was irritated.
"I recall that."
"Well," said Hawthorne, "I'll bet that he hasn't brought the right ones with him from New York!"
"Why?"
"Because he's bluffing me."
"What for?"
"Listen, Bruxton," said Hawthorne confidentially, "Mayo asked you to stay up here at the lodge, didn't he? Would you like to accept his invitation?"
"Yes," said Stuart, secretly alert. This was working in with his plans. "It's a much nicer place than the Inn."
"We'll try to fix it tonight, then," said Hawthorne, "and I want you to do a favor for me, Bruxton."
"How?"
"Size up Mayo while you're there. Get a good idea of what he's like. I want to know."
"Why?"
"Well," explained Hawthorne, "Mayo and I haven't always hit it up so well. I know some things about him; he knows some about me.
"So far as I'm concerned, all the unpleasantness is ended. Mayo appears to have forgotten it, too. But maybe he hasn't. That's what I want to find out."
"I understand," said Stuart. "That's fair enough."
"There's a chance," said Hawthorne, "that Mayo has still got it in for me. That stunt of his the other night made me wonder.
"I don't like to be suspicious of the man, Bruxton, but he might have been trying to coax me up there while he was away — so I'd break into the place, just to find those envelopes."
"What then?" questioned Stuart, keenly interested in Hawthorne's theory.
"Well," said Hawthorne, "if I got nabbed, it would be bad for me. I'd be discredited up here in Greenhurst. My real-estate boom would go dead. Mayo would be the kingpin again."
There was more truth than theory in what Hawthorne said. Stuart remembered that battle with the Filipino. Had the man meant murder because he had thought Stuart to be Hawthorne?