There is one sure way to trace the Red Envoy’s route. Once in Europe, he will be comparatively safe. Prokop made the arrangements. Prokop must be made to tell them, unless -
The hand paused, then added:
Unless a final search unearths a clew.
The hands opened a large envelope, and brought out time-tables of European railways. These came under a careful perusal. Then the hand wrote:
Air routes are quickest across Europe; but passengers are too easily observed. Red Envoy will probably travel by rail. This must be confirmed. Taking Prokop alone is bad enough; raid on meeting would be worse. Might not get all.
Then came a few vague suggestions, written, crumpled, and tossed away, as though the brain behind the hands was searching for tangible ideas.
Finally the hand prepared a schedule, compiled from the railway guides. The single word: “Confirm” was written at the top. The paper was folded between the hands. The light was extinguished.
Approximately one-half hour later, a man walked leisurely up the street by the apartment house where Prokop lived. He disappeared outside the building.
A few minutes later he was in Prokop’s apartment. He was invisible there; only his flashlight betrayed his presence. He was searching, with infinite care.
His hand showed white beneath the light, as it discovered a small pad wedged behind a desk drawer.
The ray of the flashlight was centered on the pad. The fingers of the hand touched the surface of the top sheet of paper. Then the hand disappeared.
It came back, holding a small phial, filled with a black powder. It sprinkled the powder on the paper, and rubbed it into the surface.
Faint traces of writing appeared when the powder had been brushed away. The letters were followed by numbers. They gave the names and times of railway trains. The hand appeared with a folded sheet of paper, and opened it. A careful comparison was made.
The schedule which The Shadow had prepared by careful reasoning corresponded exactly with the one that he had found.
Prokop had written the list on the pad. He had torn off the top sheet. The impression had remained on the pad, which had dropped behind the desk drawer, when Prokop had put it away.
The Envoy had taken the actual list; the clew had remained.
The hand wrote on the list which had been prepared by deduction. It inscribed a single word: “Correct.” The figure disappeared from Prokop’s apartment.
SOME thirty minutes later, a shadowy form approached the front door of Prince Zuvor’s residence. The shape was invisible in the darkness. It seemed to melt against the shadow of the door; then the door opened slowly and closed again.
The hallway was dark within. Persons on the street could not have seen the strange action of the door.
Shortly after that, Ivan Shiskin was attracted by a light in the front room on the second floor. He came in softly; as he did, the curtains parted at the side of the room, and Prince Zuvor appeared.
“Master!” exclaimed Ivan, in Russian. “I did not hear you enter the house.”
“I came in quietly, little one,” was the reply in Russian.
“I did not expect you to-night, master. You said that you would not return until to-morrow.”
“What instructions did I give you?”
“You said this, master. When he who carries the sign of the Seventh Circle comes at eight o’clock — “
“To-morrow night.”
“Yes, master. To-morrow night. You said that I shall tell him, ‘My master will be here soon.’ Then you said that I should tell him to wait in this room.”
“Very good, Ivan.”
“Master.” The servant’s voice was humble. “You seem different, to-night. You seem — “
“I am worried, Ivan. That is why I have returned. I have been gone for several days, and I have been in danger. To-night, I have work to do. Work for you. Come.”
Ivan followed Prince Zuvor.
They reached the basement. The prince went to the place where Ivan kept the make-up boxes, and removed them.
“Master,” said Ivan. “Let me form your disguise.”
Prince Zuvor shook his head.
“No, Ivan. I am not going out. It is you who will go out to-night. You will be Fritz. You will go in my place.”
“Where, master?”
“To a meeting, little one. Listen closely — “
BRIEFLY, the prince explained that Ivan was to be Agent K. He told how the Red meeting was held. He gave Ivan the signs, and all the necessary instructions.
The only fact that he subtly omitted was the most important one — that these men who would meet were Reds. Ivan noted the instructions; he did not ask their purpose.
“Remember, Ivan,” admonished the prince, as he carefully arranged the servant’s face to resemble that of the pretended Fritz Bloch, “we must protect the cause of the czar.”
“Aye, master.”
The disguise was completed. Ivan stared in wonderment as Prince Zuvor held a mirror before his eyes.
“Your work, master,” he said, “is more skillful than mine. I cannot understand.”
“You have prepared my disguise so often,” explained the prince. “I have remembered every movement. You make as good a Fritz as I do. Now speak.”
Ivan Shiskin uttered a few words in guttural English.
“Now go,” said Zuvor. He raised his hand. “Go. Remember all that happens. Go, in the name of the czar.”
After the servant had left by the front door, Prince Zuvor returned to the room on the second floor. He passed through the curtains, and did not return. Instead, a strange, mysterious figure emerged.
It was that of a man clad in black, wearing a black cloak and a black hat. He laughed as he stood in the center of the room, and his laugh echoed weirdly from the walls.
Shortly afterward, the same figure came from the front door of Prince Zuvor’s house. There was no sedan outside to-night; yet the figure kept to the shadows. Reaching the corner of the avenue, the man became less stealthy. He stepped into a taxicab, and gave an address to the driver.
The cab arrived a short time later in front of a hotel near Times Square. The passenger alighted and entered the hotel. He stopped at the desk, and gave the number of a room. The clerk made the call.
“Mr. Marquette?” he asked. “Yes? A gentleman to see you.”
He turned to the man in black, who was looking in the opposite direction.
“Go right up, sir,” said the clerk.
CHAPTER XXXI
AT THE MEETING
ONE by one the Red agents had assembled at their meeting place. They had been scrutinized and admitted by Prokop.
To-night he had questioned none of them. He was anxious to begin the meeting. He had been particularly pleased when Fritz Bloch had appeared.
When all had gathered in the large room, Prokop entered and stood before them. He surveyed the entire group. Then he began to speak.
“Comrades,” he said, “I have important news to give you. One of our number has sought to betray us. What is the answer?”
“Death!” came a hiss from the group of dark-robed agents. “Death!”
“Death is the verdict,” repeated Prokop. “We shall act as one. Any who may encounter the betrayer must strike. Is it agreed?”
“Agreed!” came the murmur of voices.
“This agent is a woman,” continued Prokop. “Her name is Arlette DeLand. Seek her out. She must die. I shall show her picture to each of you as you leave.”
A low murmur ran through the group; it died away immediately. Prokop held up his hand for silence.