“Where have you been, Cranston?” he asked. “We were alarmed about your safety. A friend of yours informed us that you had gone from London.”
“Was it Vincent?” inquired The Shadow, with a slight smile.
“Yes,” nodded Lewsham. “He had an appointment with you.”
“Not until this evening,” explained The Shadow. “Since I did not expect my friend Vincent during the day, I decided to leave foggy London and seek the countryside. I chose this terrain because I wanted to see what it was like by day.
“Unfortunately, I hiked further than I had expected. Coming back toward Tunbridge Wells, I decided to stop here and see if Craybaw chanced to be at home. Being late, I should like to telephone to London.
“I see that I have intruded upon a conference. If I might be allowed to make a telephone call, I shall then take the next train up to London—”
“Not at all!” interjected Lewsham. “We shall need you here, Mr. Cranston. Serious events have taken place to-day. Join us and listen. Your own testimony may be required.”
The Shadow seated himself. His face showed a puzzled expression, a well-feigned registration. Lewsham turned to Craybaw, who was seated in an easy chair. Lewsham’s nod indicated that he wished Craybaw to proceed with a story that he had begun.
“It happened near the entrance to Twin Trees Lane,” explained Craybaw. His tone was wearied. “When Cuthbert slowed for the crossing, men leaped upon the running board of the coupe. They thrust revolvers against our faces. They ordered Cuthbert to reverse the car; then drive down the lane.
“We reached the cottage. We were bound and gagged; then separated. I saw Cuthbert dragged to one room. I was taken to another. We remained as prisoners, without chance for communication. Our captors were rough fellows; but they treated us with some consideration. At least, I can so testify. Meals were brought to me during my imprisonment.”
When Craybaw paused, Lewsham looked toward Cuthbert. The frank-faced chauffeur was seated on the other side of the room.
“Your story,” ordered Lewsham.
“Three men captured us,” corroborated Cuthbert. “I saw them bind Mr. Craybaw while others were doing the same with me. Then they dragged us apart. I was well treated. They saw to my wants. With one exception.” The chauffeur stroked a stubbly growth upon his chin. “I was not allowed to shave.”
“What of The Harvester?” queried Lewsham. “Did you meet him?”
Cuthbert shook his head.
“I heard the coupe drive away soon after I was bound and gagged,” said the chauffeur. “I suspected that something must be up. That was all, however.”
“Did you encounter him, Craybaw?”
“Not precisely,” stated Craybaw. “After I was bound, I was placed in a room that was quite dark. Men entered and focused a lantern upon my face. I heard whisperings; I expected to be questioned.”
“But you were not?”
“No. The men with the light went away.”
LEWSHAM pondered. At last, he spoke.
“The Harvester was overconfident,” he decided. “He slipped when he played his game here. He would have done better to question you, Craybaw; but it is apparent that he must have known a good deal about your affairs.
“I fancy that he knew he would have to use his wits, no matter how well prepared he chanced to be. His feigning of illness was a clever stroke. It was the one point that lulled our doubts as to his identity.
“Various persons knew that you were entertaining guests last night. The Harvester could easily have ascertained facts. It seems apparent, however, that he must have been quite close to the game all along. That may enable us to trap the rogue.”
Methodically, Lewsham began to calculate the time element.
“It was approximately half past five when The Harvester was last seen here,” he asserted. “Dusk was settling. It was dark by half past six. That was when our search of the grounds was completed; and also when Delka found the clue that led us to the cottage.
“At seven o’clock, we attacked. A motor car ran the gantlet and was found later at Hayward’s Heath. There is a possibility that The Harvester was in that motor car; that he escaped alive. If so, he has had but an hour’s leeway. But I doubt emphatically that The Harvester was aboard that car.”
“By George!” exclaimed Sir Ernest Jennup. “You have struck it! Perhaps the rotter did not return to the cottage at all!”
“Precisely,” nodded Lewsham. “Why should he have necessarily gone there? His men were stationed on guard, ready to clear away when they received the order. We anticipated their move. There is likelihood that The Harvester had chosen his own course, meanwhile.”
“Which would mean that he had two hours!” exclaimed Delka. “Longer than that, chief! He might have cut across to High Brooms station; or he may have had a motor of his own, somewhere.”
“The Harvester could have been in London long ago,” stated Lewsham, moodily. “He has had ample opportunity, whatever means of conveyance he may have chosen. The more that I consider it, the more I doubt that he would have risked carrying his spoils to the cottage.
“Tell me one thing, Craybaw” — he turned to the rescued prisoner — “something most important. Did you hear any sounds about the cottage that would have indicated The Harvester’s return?”
“Men were moving about,” recalled Craybaw. “I heard their muffled conversation. There was nothing, however, to indicate that an outsider had arrived.”
“And you, Cuthbert?” quizzed Lewsham.
“I noticed no unusual sounds,” responded the chauffeur. “Nothing more than Mr. Craybaw has mentioned.”
“The Harvester could have taken to the cottage,” put in Delka. “But he could have left from there prior to our arrival. That would have been good strategy; for he could have notified his men to dash away on a false trail.”
“Quite possible,” agreed Lewsham. “That may explain why they were so prompt to run the gantlet. Zounds! I wish that we had not annihilated those beggars!”
“None would have talked if captured,” reminded Delka. “The Harvester is too cagey to permit such fellows to learn his full plans. I would guess that The Harvester made for the cottage to begin with.”
“And he would have reached it before six o’clock,” assured Lewsham. “Through prompt departure from there, he would still have had the two-hour start which I have conceded him.”
Gloomy silence pervaded the group. Justin Craybaw looked toward Sir Ernest Jennup.
“I suffered agony, Sir Ernest,” declared Craybaw, choking. “I realized what lay at stake, once I had been captured. I realized the loss that your banking house might suffer through the failure of Rudlow, Limited. My own loss — of position and repute — that is but little compared to your plight.”
“You are not to blame,” stated Sir Ernest. “You bore up stoutly, Craybaw. Why should I cast blame upon you? The Harvester impersonated me, only recently. Jove! The scoundrel has the quality of being everywhere — anywhere—”
A sharp rap at the door. It was Tunning, announcing arrivals. Parkins and Wilton had come from Rudlow’s. They were bringing persons with them. Lewsham ordered prompt admittance.
THE first to enter were Blessingwood and Harry Vincent. The comptroller hurried over to confer with Craybaw and Sir Ernest.
The Shadow rose in leisurely fashion to shake hands with Harry, who showed a glad expression at meeting his supposed friend, Cranston.
Then came the Rajah of Delapore, his face emotionless. Behind him, with Parkins and Wilton, was another man: Dawson Canonby. The jeweler’s expression was strained. Chief Constable Lewsham noticed the fact at once.
“What is this?” he exclaimed. “Why have you brought these men out here, Parkins? How does Canonby happen to be with you?”