The girl shrugged her shoulders.
“I am perfectly content,” she said.
“Perhaps,” replied Prokop, in soft, insinuating tones, “but that is because you do not look to the future.
“I have power. My position is important. If you will follow my suggestions, you will gain anything you desire.”
“You have talked this way before,” said the girl tersely. “But at that time there were others in the meeting room. I see your purpose to-night.
“We are alone; but I do not fear you. Again, I tell you that I am not interested in any plan which you may make.”
“Be careful what you say,” warned Prokop. “Remember, my word is law. You cannot oppose my will.”
“Your word is not law,” replied Arlette. “You have no power of your own. The real power belongs with the one who directs you. You cannot deceive me with false promises.”
She turned to leave the room. Prokop stepped forward and seized her wrist. The girl turned; her eyes were furious as she stared at the mask which covered the man’s face.
“Listen to me,” said Prokop grimly. “I have chosen you to be mine. You cannot oppose me.”
With his free hand, he lifted the cloth that hung over his face. The girl recoiled as she saw, for the first time, the evil look on Prokop’s features.
The man quickly dropped the mask, and gripped Arlette’s wrist more tightly, as she struggled to free herself. He clutched her other arm, and drew her toward him. The girl did not attempt to scream. She fought fiercely in her efforts to escape.
PROKOP’S strength was overpowering her. Then, suddenly, his grip relaxed. Gasping from exertion, Arlette staggered to the wall, and leaned there. For a few seconds she could not understand why the man had released her.
Prokop was standing motionless, facing directly toward the door. Arlette looked in the direction of his gaze. She gasped in astonishment.
The door had opened, and a man was standing there. He was tall and slender, and he wore a close-fitting suit of dark blue. His face was hidden behind a crimson mask. His hands, which rested upon his hips, were covered with red gloves.
“So!” The soft exclamation came from the man who wore the crimson mask. “I have interrupted. Perhaps it is well that I came here to-night.”
Prokop still stood rigid, and motionless.
The red-masked man looked at Arlette.
“Who is the lady?” he questioned suavely.
“Agent R,” mumbled Prokop.
The man with the crimson mask approached Arlette, and bowed. The girl stared in bewilderment. The masked man spoke slowly, uttering each word with careful pronunciation.
“I am the Red Envoy,” said the strange man. “Have you received your instructions?”
The girl nodded.
“You will forget what has occurred. I can assure you that it will not happen again.”
Arlette nodded again. The Red Envoy made another bow.
“You may go,” he said.
Arlette walked slowly toward the door.
The sudden interruption had left her dazed. She had really believed Prokop when he had told her that he was the controlling power of the organization. The appearance of the Red Envoy had startled and amazed her.
When the girl had gone, the Red Envoy turned to Prokop. He made no reference to the incident which he had just interrupted. He spoke as though it had all been forgotten.
“Give me your report,” said the Red Envoy.
CHAPTER XIV
HARRY RECEIVES A WARNING
HARRY VINCENT stopped at the desk in the lobby of the Hotel Metrolite, and received a letter which the clerk handed him. He went to a chair that was set against a pillar, and opened the envelope. The note was in code, from Claude Fellows:
Call at my office at three o’clock. Be careful. Some one may be following you. Make sure that your destination is not known.
Responding instinctively to the warning, Harry glanced about him. As he gazed to the left, he noted a man sitting in a chair backed against the adjoining side of the pillar.
The man was looking in his direction. He had a newspaper spread out before him, and his head bobbed back to read it, but he was too late to avoid Harry’s questioning gaze.
Pretending that he had not seen the man’s action, Harry crumpled the note into a ball, and carried it over to the side of the lobby, where he dropped it in a wastebasket. The ink had already faded.
Harry lounged about the lobby, anxious to see if the man who had been watching him would go to investigate the wastebasket.
It was one o’clock now. Two hours to wait. Perhaps there would be important action ahead.
The last few days had been idle ones for Harry Vincent. Since he had left Bruce Duncan and Arlette DeLand, after they had lunched together, three days ago, he had found time passing slowly and tediously.
He had seen Fellows that afternoon, three days ago. Since then, no word whatever, until this letter that had arrived to-day.
He had been utterly unable to locate Bruce Duncan since. He had also called the Hotel Paragon a dozen times, and had asked for Arlette DeLand. She had not been there.
So far, Harry was entirely in the dark regarding any unusual events which might be transpiring.
He had received no explanation regarding the episode at the Pink Rat. He only knew that The Shadow had rescued him.
Perhaps his coming interview with Claude Fellows would carry some enlightenment.
“Some one may be following you” — that statement had appeared in the note from the insurance broker. With two hours ahead of him, Harry would have plenty of opportunity to shake the man off his tracks.
He glanced toward the pillar, and made a quick inspection of the individual in the chair. He was a clever-looking chap, who was apparently paying no attention to what was going on about him.
Harry smiled. Here was an excellent opportunity for a get-away. The paper which he had tossed in the wastebasket was bait.
Harry strolled across the lobby, and entered the dining room. He was sure that the man would wait until he was gone; and would then obtain the letter that had been thrown away.
There was a street entrance to the dining room. Harry walked straight through, reached the street, and hailed a cab. A few minutes later he was riding along Broadway.
PICTURING himself in the other man’s place, Harry was positive that his tracker would have preferred obtaining the letter to following him into the dining room, especially as it was lunch time. There was only one danger: that the man might have a companion. So Harry occupied his time with a series of maneuvers that would have thrown the most skillful sleuth from his trail.
He left the taxicab, walked half a block, and took another cab in the opposite direction. He left that cab in the middle of a block, and walked slowly along the street toward an elevated station, loitering occasionally.
Seeing an elevated train approaching from a distance, Harry made a mad dash for the steps. He mounted them two at a time, and caught the train just before the guard closed the gates.
He smiled at the effectiveness of the trick. He was the last person on the train; if another man had followed him up the steps, he would have betrayed himself.
Harry alighted a few stations up the line, and had lunch in a restaurant on a side street. Then he called a cab, and went directly to the Grandville Building.
It was shortly before three o’clock when he arrived at the office of Claude Fellows, on the fifteenth floor. He was ushered into the inner office.
Fellows was unusually congenial. He seemed satisfied with something that he had accomplished. He fairly beamed upon Harry.