Cranston listened intently, as he heard the elevator ascend. His ear was pressed to the door; the sound of the mechanism seemed to have a meaning to him.
The elevator reached the fifth floor, and stopped with a jolt, followed by a slight click. Lamont Cranston did not open the door. Instead, he moved across the floor to another door, that appeared to be an entrance.
Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow. His evolution had begun as he had entered the house in back of Zuvor’s residence.
A small steel tool entered the keyhole of the locked door. It probed the interior, and turned the lock. The door seemed to open of its own accord. It led to a stairway, down into the warehouse.
The being that descended the steps was totally invisible. The Shadow had closed and locked the door behind him; now he was bound for the first floor, using the stairway instead of the elevator.
His form arrived at the elevator door on the ground floor — the car did not appear there.
An invisible hand came from the darkness. The Shadow pressed the control button that would bring the elevator down from the fifth floor.
A snapping sound resulted — far above. With a grinding whir, the elevator carriage dropped from its lofty height.
A terrific burst of air came through the wide crack of the door on the first floor; then the falling elevator whizzed past, and crashed at the bottom of the shaft, below the basement.
Some one had fixed the mechanism. The Red agents had planned a certain death for whoever might leave Prince Zuvor’s house by this secret route. When the elevator had arrived at the unused fifth floor, it had set the mechanism automatically.
A few minutes later, a man appeared in the garage adjoining the warehouse. He appeared to have come in from the street, along with a few others who had heard the muffled crash of the falling elevator. This man was well dressed; his face was adorned with a turned-up mustache.
After a short survey of his surroundings, the man stepped into the street, and entered a taxi that was standing outside the garage. The driver had intended to put his car away; but this opportunity for a late passenger was too good to miss.
“Times Square,” said the man in back.
Once again, The Shadow had foiled those who had sought his life!
CHAPTER XXV
THE SHADOW HEARS
PROKOP sat sullenly in his apartment. He was seated in an armchair, his eyes gazing at the opposite wall. He was a shrewd and capable man; even though he was neither subtle nor tactful. He disliked work that took too long to finish. That was why he was in an ugly humor.
It was nearly twenty-four hours since the last meeting, at which he had been foiled in his efforts to seize Arlette. Prokop had set the meeting early, in hopes that the Red Envoy would not put in an appearance.
He had also expected that the Red Envoy would visit his apartment; in fact, he had waited up until after one o’clock. But the man of mystery had not arrived.
At this particular moment, Prokop was wondering about the Red Envoy. The man who came from Moscow was amazingly well-informed. He seemed to possess some access to the secrets of the gang.
Prokop resented this surveillance; at the same time, he feared the Red Envoy. Prokop was the type of man who respected only those whom he feared.
Prokop had learned one fact of interest during the day. An elevator had fallen in a warehouse near the home of Prince Zuvor. He had gained this news through the papers — not from one of his agents.
The fact that the elevator had crashed was interesting; that no one had been found in the wreckage was disappointing.
For Prokop had recently learned all about that elevator, through his agent, Fritz Bloch, the man who posed as Prince Zuvor’s servant.
The elevator had been adjusted for a catastrophe. But Prokop had hoped that some one would have been in it.
A slight sound interrupted Prokop’s musings. He looked up to see the Red Envoy standing before him.
The mysterious personage had arrived unseen. He had entered Prokop’s apartment unannounced. Now he was looking at Prokop; and his lips formed a straight, firm line beneath the crimson mask.
The Red Envoy did not speak. His expression appeared to be one of inquiry. He awaited a statement from Prokop.
When the latter had recovered from his astonishment, he went to the bookcase, and brought out his reports. When he turned around, he saw the Red Envoy sitting in a chair.
“I have very little progress to report,” said Prokop, in a reluctant voice.
“So I expected,” replied the Red Envoy dryly. “That is one reason why I did not visit you last night.”
PROKOP became a trifle nervous. The Red Envoy was between him and the door. As he looked at the man in the crimson mask, he fancied he saw something, beyond — a strange, dark shadow that rested just inside the door.
He stared for a moment; then, believing that the sudden arrival of the Red Envoy had started his imagination, he turned his attention back to the reports.
“Regarding Whitburn,” he said slowly. “I received word through Agent C, who was present at last night’s meeting. He says that Agent E is slowly getting results. He is afraid to make too sudden a step.”
“What have you done about this man Vincent — the one who was to be watched at the Metrolite Hotel?”
“I shall read you the complete report,” said Prokop. “Agent F registered at the Metrolite Hotel, under the name of Ernest Manion. He watched Vincent.
“The man received a letter. Manion obtained it. It proved to be a blank sheet of paper. We have tested it with chemicals. No writing appears.
“The letter was evidently a blind; for while Agent F was obtaining it, Vincent left the hotel. Agent F sent a message to that effect.
“In the meantime I received a message from Agent E, the man who is with Whitburn — under the name of Stokes. He had learned that Whitburn intended to hire Vincent to fill the vacancy on his staff.”
Prokop looked at the Red Envoy, expecting some token of approval; but the masked man made no sign.
“Agent F reported later that he had picked up Vincent’s trail. Vincent had entered a theater. F awaited instructions.
“I notified him that Vincent was going to Lake Marrinack. I told F to trail him, if possible. Vincent did not return to the Metrolite Hotel; F followed him to the Baronet Hotel.
“The next morning, Vincent managed to elude Agent F; but he turned up, as we had expected, at Lake Marrinack.”
“Is he there now?” asked the Red Envoy.
“Yes. Agent E tried to eliminate him by what would have appeared to be accidental death. Vincent escaped the trap.
“Before that, he communicated with some one in the village.”
“He must be eliminated immediately.”
“I sent word to that effect to Agent E. I told him to act quickly.”
“Send him further instructions. He must obtain the plans as quickly as possible. You have accomplished results in the past, Prokop. This is your greatest work. We can delay no longer.”
Prokop made notes; then he brought up the next subject.
“Report on Bruce Duncan,” he said. “Agent R has made no progress. Duncan has left town; she does not know where he has gone. Agent R is negligent.”
“You speak from malice, Prokop.”
“I am telling you a fact!” Prokop suddenly restrained his anger, as he noted the sternness of the Red Envoy’s countenance. “My report is correct,” he added, less bitterly. “Agent R has accomplished nothing.”
“Put another agent on the case. Immediate results are not necessary, even though they are desirable. This matter of Whitburn is most important.”
Prokop nodded. The Red Envoy made no further statement. That subject was closed. Prokop continued with his report.