"I have received instructions," continued Mann, "and they concern you, Bruxton.
Something is due to happen in Greenhurst — tonight."
"Shortly before midnight, four men will appear at Hawthorne's cottage. Two of them will be men whom you have encountered before — Jeremiah Benson and his man, Grady."
Stuart's eyes flashed at the mention of the fiends who had sought to kill him, that night in Maryland. Mann noted his expression and smiled slightly.
"Vincent will be in Greenhurst, also," he said. "He is following the other two men — who, we feel certain, will join Benson and Grady. At any event, Vincent will arrange to reach the Greenhurst Inn shortly after eleven o'clock."
"Therefore, you will terminate your stay at Mayo's lodge at eleven o'clock, so you can meet Vincent. Leaving New York at eight, you will reach Greenhurst — when?"
"Before ten."
"Excellent. Stay at Mayo's until eleven. You will receive a message at that hour — coming in an announcement from station WNX. It will tell you whether to go to the Inn — as we have planned — or to stay with Mayo, at the lodge. You can arrange that?"
"Easily," replied Stuart. "But if Mayo is in danger — "
"Do not worry about that," said Mann emphatically. "Vincent will explain all to you."
"But there may be trouble at Mayo's lodge — "
"Nothing will happen there while you are with Vincent," declared Mann cryptically.
Stuart Bruxton departed. Rutledge Mann waited. Four o'clock arrived. The telephone rang.
"Hello," said Mann. "Oh, yes, Vincent. All well?"
There was a brief response. Mann appeared satisfied. He hung up the receiver and waited again. Fifteen minutes passed. The telephone rang once more.
Mann's eyes gleamed as he responded.
"Bruxton leaving at eight with Mayo," he said. "Vincent reports that he is following. The others have stopped to eat a late lunch. Vincent will continue. They are near Springfield." A low voice came over the wire. Rutledge Mann had given his report. He was receiving instructions from The Shadow. The words that he heard surprised him; but the phlegmatic investment broker gave no visible sign.
"Instructions understood," was his brief comment.
Mann hung up the telephone and performed the same action that Sidney Delmuth had, a few hours before.
Instead of writing on a blank sheet of paper, however, Mann used a telegraph blank. He turned a knob on the wall, and waited until a messenger appeared.
"Thirty-five cents to Philadelphia," said the boy.
Rutledge Mann paid the bill, and the boy departed with the telegram. The investment broker stroked his chin thoughtfully. Although he had written the telegram, he could not understand The Shadow's purpose. He was wondering why The Shadow had sent a telegram to Denby Chadwick — a telegram signed with the name of Sidney Delmuth!
Chapter XIX — What the Shadow Knew
It was nine o'clock the same evening. Sidney Delmuth sat alone in his apartment. An ash tray filled with cigarette butts lay on the table beside him.
Delmuth was playing host to an invisible audience of one man. Ever since that night at Benson's, he had been convinced that The Shadow could be anywhere. He had lived in apprehension; but he had fought to conceal his fears.
Tonight, he was doing the opposite. Delmuth was calm at heart, but playing the part of a man afraid. Crime was taking place tonight — far from New York. Delmuth's hands were free from it, but he was as important in the scheme as were the men who had set forth to murder.
Delmuth, pretending that he, too, meant to commit crime, was luring The Shadow away from the danger zone.
It was a waiting game — a stall until midnight, when all would be ended at Greenhurst.
Delmuth's apartment, with its many rooms, was a spot where The Shadow could lurk with ease.
Delmuth was sure that he was being watched, and he sought to make it more evident.
With seeming nervousness, the man lighted another cigarette. He walked across the room to the telephone.
With an uncertain laugh, Delmuth put down the phone and strode to the window. He stood looking through the pane as though in deep thought.
Actually, his shrewd eyes were watching the reflection of the room behind him. He was seeking to observe some sign of The Shadow.
Doors seemed to move. Curtains appeared to rustle. Was The Shadow here? Or were these mere imaginings of Delmuth's troubled brain?
The door of the apartment was unlocked, and Delmuth listened intently for its click. He realized that his fancies might be caused by anticipation. Perhaps The Shadow had not yet arrived. Delmuth was ready to face the mystery man. He knew The Shadow's ways. He had heard that The Shadow never killed except when attacked, or when it was necessary to save a life. Therefore, Delmuth was ready. Let The Shadow hide in the dark; let him come into the light. So long as he remained here, he could not combat the fiends of crime who were forth on Delmuth's work tonight!
A slight sound came to Delmuth's ears. He listened intently. It was the latch of the door!
Someone was entering the apartment. Delmuth could hear the sound of soft footsteps.
He turned quickly from the window, and stood beside his chair. The man was in the hall of the apartment, and the foot steps were coming onward!
The door was ajar. It began to open. Delmuth, his hands in the pockets of his dinner jacket, waited tensely. He saw a figure in the darkness beyond the door. It hesitated there, then entered. Denby Chadwick stepped into the room!
Sidney Delmuth stepped forward. His eyes sparkled angrily. His apprehensions were gone. What was this fellow doing here tonight? Delmuth had thought that he was in Philadelphia.
He had never expected this visitor.
"Chadwick!" exclaimed Delmuth.
Chadwick was within the door. He slipped to one side and stood with his back against the wall, his hands opening and closing nervously.
"You wanted to see me," he said. "Here I am!"
"I wanted to see you?" quizzed Delmuth, incredulously.
"Yes, I received your telegram, telling me to be here — telling me that you had changed your mind — that you would let me have that paper I gave you — "
"I never sent you a telegram," Delmuth denied.
"Here it is."
Chadwick extended a sheet of yellow paper. Delmuth seized it angrily. He read it aloud.
Come to my Apartment this Evening Stop
Important Stop
Will make Agreement you wish Stop
Do not reply Stop
Come Stop
Delmuth was actually puzzled. His own name appeared at the bottom of the telegram, and the message had been sent from New York that afternoon.
What hoax was this? Why?
"You're going to play fair, aren't you?" pleaded Chadwick. "That telegram came from you. I played square with you. I gave you those certificates. I don't want them back. All I want is-"
"Your confession," interrupted Delmuth.
"Don't call it that!" protested Chadwick. "I want the paper I gave you. Then I'm safe, Delmuth. Even if I do get in wrong with Mayo.
"Let him fire me — I've got money now. But that, paper! I must have it!" Sidney Delmuth was swelling with rage. He had not expected an interruption of this sort. It was interfering with his plans.
"Get out!" he ordered. "Get out! If you bother me again, I'll make the whole thing public!"
"You can't," said Chadwick plaintively. "It would ruin you as well as myself — "
"You fool!" growled Delmuth. "It was all your work. I took no part in it. I've got that confession of yours so as to keep you quiet. You listened to my plans. You tried what I said.