Going into reverse, Harry swung back to retrace his course. He had a hunch that the road he wanted branched off to the right. A little later Harry found such a road - a dirt lane that twisted off toward a woods.
Stopping the car, Harry alighted and examined the dust. The lane was dry; there were no tire tracks of the tread he sought, but it was possible that the marks had been obliterated. At least, the road was worth a look-see.
He drove along the road through the woods. Coming to a stream, Harry found a bridge to be crossed alongside of an old ford. A mile more and the road ran into a paved highway.
This perplexed Harry. Which way should he go? The road map offered no help in this quandary.
Before choosing his course, Harry decided that it would be wise to return along the lane.
He drove back to its starting point, stopping occasionally to search for traces in the dust, but none were visible.
He continued along the lane until he came to the bridge again. At that moment he observed that the temperature had risen on the motor gauge until it had nearly reached the boiling point.
“Forgot all about the water in the radiator,” he mused. “This bus has been traveling pretty fast lately. I must have boiled some out.”
He peered over the edge of the rail on the bridge and saw the glint of a tin can.
“That will do,” he thought. “It’s pretty small, but I can get plenty of exercise.”
Descending to the stream, he retrieved the can and filled it with water. As he stopped at the ford, he whistled with delight. At the edge of the stream appeared the mark of one of Bingham’s tires - a mark pressed deeply in the muddy edge of the brook.
Disregarding the heated radiator, Harry backed his car from the bridge and drove down to the ford. He crossed the stream, and as he ascended the farther bank he could make out the marks of automobile tires that led to the right.
Harry piloted the car along a makeshift road, moving slowly to subdue the noise of the motor. The thickness of the trees and bushes made the pathway more evident, although it was merely two grooves along the ground. Branches brushed the top of the coupe.
The car arrived at a dilapidated fence, which was broken by an opening. There were no bars across, but Harry felt uneasy about passing that barrier.
Instead, he turned the car to the left and drove some forty yards along an open space beside the fence.
Pocketing the ignition key, Harry closed the windows of the coupe and locked the doors. With cautious step he approached the opening in the fence. He followed the tracks of Bingham’s car to sight a house among the trees.
Caution was vital. Harry realized that as he moved onward.
A noise caused him to seek refuge behind a tree. He could see the house clearly from that point - an ancient two-story structure that looked like an abandoned hunting lodge.
A man was standing on the porch, blue smoke curling upward from his lighted cigar - an elderly man who looked very much like Ezekiel Bingham!
The man stood there a few minutes; then turned and went into the house. Coming from behind the tree, Harry obtained a new angle of vision. In front of the house stood an automobile - a car that he recognized immediately. There now could be no question of the man’s identity.
Harry smiled with triumph.
His quest was ended.
He had trailed Ezekiel Bingham to his lair!
CHAPTER XXXI
HARRY’S MESSAGE
AS he stole back to the spot where he had parked his car, Harry realized that he had reached the emergency which Fellows had foreseen. Five miles from the nearest habitation, it would take considerable time for him to go and return. His watch showed that it was after five o’clock; perhaps Fellows had already left his office, and in that event, a trip to a telephone would be useless.
Furthermore, it was Harry’s duty to watch Ezekiel Bingham. The car in front of the house suggested that the old lawyer might be ready to leave the building that stood in the woods.
Harry’s first action was to turn the coupe so that it faced the crude roadway. If Bingham should drive from the house, Harry would then be able to follow without loss of time.
Harry unlocked the back of the coupe and found the mysterious box which Fellows had spoken of. It was a fairly large box, occupying most of the space in back, and it appeared to be clamped to the bottom of the car to prevent it from shifting.
Using the key which Fellows had given him, Harry unlocked the box and opened it. A flat inner lid met his eyes. Upon it lay an envelope. Harry tore the wrapper and read the message:
You have a knowledge of radio. Follow the instructions on the bottom of the inner lid. Send your message, using the special code that appears within the instructions.
Lifting the inner lid, Vincent discovered a complete and compact wireless transmitting set.
Satisfied that the car was far enough from the opening in the fence to be free from discovery, Harry set to work.
Following the instructions on the lid, he strung an aerial between two trees. He worked quickly but nervously. His message was important and urgent.
The sending key clicked beneath his fingers. He was following the strange code, forming his words slowly and carefully. His first words were these:
Am watching Bingham at house in woods.
Then, referring to the map, he described as best he could the location of the place, using the turnpike as his basis. That highway was easily accessible, and would be the shortest way to the old lawyer’s hiding place.
He repeated the message again to make sure; then waited a few minutes while he checked the apparatus thoroughly. Then he sent his code through the air for the third time.
Would the message be received? Would it be understood? Would it bring The Shadow to this place?
These questions raced through Vincent’s brain. He wondered also how The Shadow had discovered his knowledge of wireless.
The sky was growing dark. It was nearly six o’clock. What should he do next?
Harry decided that a cautious visit to the house in the woods might bring important results. Dusk was approaching; he could still see clearly, yet he himself would be difficult to detect if he kept among the trees. That was the best plan: to find out more and then to send another message.
Leaving the wireless apparatus in place, he went back to the improvised roadway and approached the house. Bingham’s car was still standing there. Everything was silent in the gloom.
Harry circled the house at a distance. A glow appeared at the bottom of a window. The shade had not been fully drawn; the light of a lamp showed through.
Reaching the porch, Harry crept noiselessly forward and peered through the narrow space. The room within was furnished with plain chairs and a table, and was lighted by two oil lamps.
Ezekiel Bingham was seated in one chair by the table; opposite him sat a man whom Harry did not recognize.
The two were conversing, but Harry could not hear their words. He tried to follow the motions of their lips, but without success.
This was a vantage point, however, and as the darkness increased, Vincent decided to remain. The longer he stayed the safer would be his position, and the opportunity might arrive to learn something.
Time went by slowly as Harry held his gaze to the window. Then came the chance that he had anticipated.
Bingham’s companion, a short, dark-faced man, with a sharp-pointed mustache, came to the window and raised the shade.
Harry ducked in time. It was now quite dark, fortunately. A grating sound marked the raising of the window. The sound of the man’s footsteps indicated that he was walking back in the room.
Harry raised his head and looked in the window.
“Why open the window?” asked the old lawyer.
“To get some air,” replied the dark man with a curling smile that featured a gold tooth.