A recorded program! The cleverness of the idea was impressive. This announcement must have been spoken a few weeks ago, implanted upon a studio record that had been laid aside until required. The Shadow had prepared it for an emergency.
Thus Harry realized that The Shadow might be far from New York. There had been no need for him to visit Station WNX and arrange for a planted announcement. With a record ready, it had simply been a case of telephoning instructions to use it.
Although he did not know the details, Harry had struck upon the exact truth. Before leaving New York to rescue Professor Whitburn, The Shadow had ordered Burbank to call the studio and state that Program R344 WC was to be used to-night. That had all been planned beforehand.
Thus The Shadow, imprisoned with Professor Whitburn, had assured the old inventor that all would be well at Cedar Cove. For unless The Shadow returned to New York and canceled his original instructions, the emergency order was sure to be received by Harry Vincent.
BACK in his chair near the fireplace, Harry was thinking quickly. He knew that a task lay before him. To try to warn Commander Dadren would be a false step. As confidential secretary, Harry might be able to give advice, provided that danger seemed present at Cedar Cove. But so far, there had been no indication of an existing menace.
Harry smiled. Again, he was benefiting by The Shadow’s forethought. He had received instructions covering just such an emergency as this one. It was Harry’s appointed duty to create the thought of danger by action of his own.
Of all those stationed at Cedar Cove, Harry was the only one not paired with a companion. He had arrived long after the others. His recommendation from Whitburn and his service as Dadren’s secretary had separated him from the others. In conformity with Dadren’s system, however, Harry was supposed to keep with the company except when performing actual duty.
Therein lay Harry’s opportunity. After a few minutes of planning, The Shadow’s agent arose and approached Wilkins, who rated the highest of those in the main hall. Harry remarked that he had work to do for Commander Dadren.
“I have to type some letters for the skipper,” he told Wilkins. “I’ll use the machine in my room. Let me know when the skipper comes in.”
Wilkins nodded. Harry turned and entered a little room that opened from the hall. He turned on the light and closed the door behind him. This room served as both bedroom and office, so far as Harry’s own work was concerned. A cot stood in one corner; opposite it was a table with a typewriter.
Reaching beneath the table, Harry brought out what appeared to be the case of a portable typewriter. He unlocked it and opened the top. Inside was a machine that bore a resemblance to a usual portable. With it was a coil of insulated wire, with a plug on the loose end.
Harry connected the cord with a wall socket. He was about to press a lever when he remembered something. Seating himself at the table, he opened a drawer and brought out a few letters that he had already typed. He laid them beside the real typewriter; then inserted a blank sheet of paper and typed a letter halfway through.
That done, Harry stepped from the desk and pressed the lever on the portable machine. There was a slight whirr, then the false typewriter began to click. Its action was irregular; at the end of a series of clicks a little bell rang, and the carriage slid back to begin again.
Harry had received this device from The Shadow. It was serving an excellent purpose. Out in the big hall, the men could hear the pounding of the keys, the sliding of the carriage. They would swear, later, that they had heard Harry Vincent typing in his room.
WHILE the mechanism clicked, Harry stole toward the door and pressed the light switch. With the room in darkness, he went to the window and softly opened it.
The window was barred with a crisscross wire grating; but Harry had previously loosened the frame. He pushed the barrier outward, jamming it so that it hung as if hinged to one side of the window. Harry dropped into the inner court.
He had long since planned this emergency trip. It required stealth, for too much noise might attract the attention of men patrolling the halls about the block-shaped building. Crossing the court, Harry reached the window of the laboratory.
Here were bars like those on the windows of his own room. Instead of attacking the frame, Harry produced a pair of small but powerful wire clippers. Using both hands to gain more pressure, The Shadow’s agent began to clip the crisscross wires, just within the frame.
The task needed endurance. Each wire seemed tougher than the one before. But Harry had confidence that he could accomplish the job with speed. He succeeded. Less than five minutes after the departure from his room, he had the bottom and lower sides cut loose.
Harry pried the wires upward. As he had anticipated, the window, itself, was unlocked. With a grating covering it, Commander Dadren seldom locked the sash. Harry opened the window and entered the laboratory.
He needed no flashlight for the work that lay ahead. About the lab were tables. The drawers contained papers — formulas, typewritten instructions — that were of little consequence. An intruder, however, might have found them worthy of inspection. Opening the various drawers, Harry removed the papers and scattered them about.
There was a file cabinet in the corner. Harry approached it in the dark and opened the topmost drawer. He removed several files, let their papers scatter; then took another sheaf and raised it to the top of the cabinet. In three minutes, Harry had given the appearance of a quarter hour search. He was ready for the finish.
On top of the cabinet was a rack of test tubes, several beakers and a hydrometer jar. The last named was a tall object, easily toppled. Thrusting a stack of papers along the top of the cabinet, Harry deliberately knocked over the hydrometer jar, which he could barely see in the semidarkness. The glass object toppled against the rack of test tubes.
With a final push, Harry sent the jar and the tubes clear of the filing cabinet. The wavering hydrometer jar took along a beaker; the entire lot went crashing to the stone floor of the laboratory.
As the crash was sounding, Harry was diving for the window. He sent a chair skidding against a table; another jar toppled and rolled to the floor. Then Harry was through the window, heading back across the inner court.
AS he gained his own room, Harry pulled in the grating and lowered the sash. Amid the clatter of his fake typewriter, he could hear the sounds of scuffling feet from the outer hall.
At the table, Harry never bothered to turn off his machine. He simply yanked the cord from the floor plug, dropped it in the box and shut the lid. The interruption of the current stopped the ticks of the fake typewriter.
Next, the door. Harry reached it just in time. He pressed the light switch, turned the knob and opened the door. Wilkins was already on the threshold, coming to summon him to join the others. The rest of the men had headed for the lab.
“Come along, Vincent,” ordered Wilkins, in an excited tone. “We’re heading for the lab.”
“What’s up?” inquired Harry, as they started along the hall.
“Didn’t you hear the glassware smash?” returned Wilkins.
“No,” responded Harry. “I was typing; then I heard you fellows shouting out here.”
“That’s right,” nodded Wilkins. “You wouldn’t have heard the noise from the lab. I remember! I heard your typewriter clicking away. Before the noise came from the lab — and after that, too.”
Harry smiled to himself as they reached the door of the laboratory, where the two patrolling men had used a key to enter. His first task had been accomplished. He had started trouble here at Cedar Cove.
Yet, with it, he had established a perfect alibi. Wilkins had already put himself on record as a witness to the fact that Harry had been working when the crash sounded within the laboratory. The Shadow’s plan had worked.