For Burbank was the contact agent of The Shadow. By communicating with that distant listener; by following Burbank’s prompt instructions, Professor Whitburn had paved the way for new aid.
Once again, the white-haired inventor was staking all upon The Shadow’s prowess.
CHAPTER IV
THE TRAITOR
WHEN Professor Whitburn arrived back in his study, he found two anxious men awaiting him. Stephen had become uneasy. Polmore’s nervousness had increased. Both men seemed relieved by their employer’s return.
Quex, coiled in a corner of the window sill, stretched lazily when he saw his master. The cat was used to the professor’s sudden ways of leaving and returning. The old man smiled and stroked the cat. Quex began to purr.
“Is everything all right, sir?” questioned Polmore. “I was careful to latch the door after I came back from the dock—”
“Everything is well,” interposed the professor.
“No sign of Bragg?” questioned Stephen.
“None,” returned Whitburn, abruptly.
Minutes passed. All of Whitburn’s previous worriment had gone. Stephen began to share his master’s ease of mind. Polmore, however, showed new signs of nervousness. Whitburn noticed it and studied the secretary with a quizzical look.
“I’m thinking about Bragg, sir,” declared Polmore. “I wonder if he really went to the mainland.”
“You told us the boat was gone,” reminded Whitburn.
“Yes,” assured Polmore, “but Bragg may have had some other idea than an over-night visit with friends in New Haven.”
“What makes you think he had that idea?”
“That’s where he usually goes, sir. To New Haven.”
“Ah, yes. I had forgotten it. Go on, Polmore. Tell me what else Bragg may have had in mind.”
“Well” — Polmore was speculating — “you said that someone had been here in the study.”
“I did. Do you think it could have been Bragg?”
“Yes, sir. At first I thought he might have left after he was in here. But then I began to figure that he might still be on the island.”
Professor Whitburn nodded; but his eyes were still questioning.
“You spoke of Bragg as a traitor,” declared Polmore. “A traitor would resort to any trickery. Bragg could have taken that boat around the island and landed somewhere on the other side. There are several shallow places that would be suitable.”
“I don’t think Bragg would do that,” objected Stephen. “Really, professor, he is—”
“Wait,” interposed Whitburn, quietly. “Let us hear what Polmore has to suggest. Go on, Polmore.”
“I think we ought to search the island,” declared the secretary. “It wouldn’t be difficult. All we’d have to do would be to go around the shore, looking for the boat.
“A good suggestion,” nodded Whitburn. “Which of us should form the expedition?”
“Stephen and myself,” replied Polmore, promptly. “You would be safe here, sir, with the door locked. We could make the search in less than an hour.”
“I shall consider it,” decided the professor. “First, let us see if the telephone is still out order.”
HE went to the telephone and tried it. There was no response. Yet the old man persisted, with his intermittent clickings of the hook. Five minutes — ten — still he repeated his trials. At last, after a quarter hour had elapsed, the professor gave up the task.
“This is serious,” he declared. “The telephone seldom remained out of order for so long a time. Perhaps the cable has broken between here and the mainland. Unfortunately, there is no way by which we can communicate with the telephone company.”
“If we had the boat,” reminded Polmore, “one of us could go ashore. If Bragg is on the island, we might trap him. We would then have the boat, in addition.”
“Well reasoned,” declared Whitburn, in a commending tone. “Yes, Polmore, I believe that we shall institute the search as you suggest. I think, however, that it would be unwise for me to remain here.”
“Why so, sir?”
“If we should find Bragg, I would want to speak with him. Suppose you and I search, Polmore. Let us leave Stephen here.”
“That would hardly be fair, sir. Stephen can not well refuse to remain. Yet it was my suggestion—”
“Very thoughtful, Polmore. Then you can stay.”
“I—I would rather not, sir.”
“You fear danger?”
“No, sir. But the responsibility — you must consider that. How can I protect something that I have never seen? These plans of which you have spoken, they—”
“They are here in the study. That is all you need to know. It would be best for you to stay here, Polmore.”
“But the surface of the island is rough. You could not stand the heavy effort, professor. Climbing over huge rocks—”
Whitburn waved his hand in interruption. He drew his large watch from his pocket, unhooked it from the chain and placed it on the table.
“Time has flown,” he remarked. “It is quarter to ten — fully half an hour since I returned from my inspection of the house. Stephen” — he turned to the stolid man — “do you have a watch with you?”
Stephen nodded.
“Then I shall leave mine here,” decided Whitburn. “Polmore, we shall be gone until half past ten. That is, unless we encounter Bragg in the meantime. Do you still object to staying here on guard?”
“I guess not, sir.” Polmore eyed the watch that the professor had placed on the desk. “Three quarters of an hour isn’t very long. You can let Stephen do most of the heavy work, scrambling over the rocks.”
“Another good suggestion,” nodded Whitburn. “Come, Stephen, we must start.”
USHERING Stephen from the study, Whitburn followed and closed the door behind him. The two men passed through the corridor.
Stephen reached the outer door, opened it and stepped to the path. It was then that he felt the professor clutch his arm.
“Wait!” ordered the old man, in a whisper. “Step back into the house! Say nothing!”
Stephen obeyed. As soon as they were inside, the professor closed the door with a slight slam. He held Stephen silent. Minutes passed, one by one. At the end of five, the old man delivered a soft, whispered chortle.
“The time is right,” he decided. “Come, Stephen. Follow me. Make no noise. Have your revolver ready.”
Stephen nodded as he caught the whisper. He was puzzled by the professor’s actions; he became more perplexed when the old man led him back toward the study. Stephen thought that they were going to make a new search upstairs, in case Bragg should be lurking there.
At the study door, the professor again gripped Stephen’s arm. Then, with a quick movement, Whitburn turned the knob, opened the door and sprang into the room. He held his automatic ready. Stephen was close behind him, revolver leveled.
THEY caught Polmore in the act. The secretary was beyond the desk. He had opened Whitburn’s watch to get the key. He had pressed back the molding and had managed to unlock the metal slide.
At the moment of Whitburn’s return, Polmore had one hand in the empty space behind the bookcase.
“Step away!” rasped Whitburn.
Polmore obeyed. Gunless, he had no other alternative. He had placed his revolver on the table, never suspecting that Whitburn and Stephen would return so soon. The old professor glared at his secretary.
“We know the traitor,” he declared. “You managed only to deceive yourself, Polmore. Thanks to Quex, on the window sill, I knew that some one had been prowling just before Stephen arrived.”
“It might have been Bragg. But you overplayed your hand. You wanted me to remain here. Why? Because I had the watch. I suppose you have communicated that fact to my enemies. You saw the secret of my hiding place.