“But remember: I shall rely upon you; and at the same time, there will be others available to take up your work, should you fail in any detail.”
Noyes paused thoughtfully, and after a few minutes had passed, Tholbin became speculative.
“What else?” he inquired.
“Nothing else,” replied Noyes.
“You mean” — Tholbin’s voice showed his incredulity — “you mean that if I — when I have finished the job that you require, you will give me—”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” interposed Noyes, in a quiet tone.
“It sounds like a pipe dream,” declared Tholbin. “But if you mean it, I’m your man. That’s real money you’re offering. If you are in your right mind—”
“I am quite sane,” said Noyes, as Tholbin paused apologetically. “Quite sane, but perhaps a trifle eccentric. I have certain hobbies, Tholbin, and I am growing old. My own wealth is considerable. I have odd theories.
“One is, that a man who will willingly obey a person in whom he trusts is deserving of great reward. The other is that certain individuals who are on the borderline of crime can be restrained when given a fair chance; and that when so restrained, they make the best of citizens.”
The lawyer finished this harangue with a pleasant smile. David Tholbin pondered. Suddenly, a gleam of understanding flashed across his darkish face. He became very serious in manner.
“I shall do whatever you order, Mr. Noyes,” he declared. “I shall obey your instructions to the letter. Give me the necessary details, and all will be as you wish.”
“The details?” Noyes paused and stared thoughtfully. He saw the book on the shelf move once only. “Ah, yes, the details. They will come later, Tholbin. Later, after I have talked to Tobias Waddell. You will hear from me before the Galathia sails.”
“Two days after to-morrow,” reminded Tholbin.
“Very good.”
Parker Noyes arose and extended his hand. Tholbin shook it warmly, and the lawyer ushered him to the door of the office.
AFTER the young man had gone Noyes hastened to the bookcase and opened it. Frederick Froman stepped forth and gripped the old attorney eagerly.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Wonderful! You have solved our only problem. I see it all shaping perfectly!”
Froman’s eyes were glowing with enthusiasm. Noyes merely smiled in his usual manner.
“We can have him watched,” declared Froman, “but our men will be in the offing. Some one might suspect Tholbin, but no one would suspect Waddell. You are a genius, Noyes!”
“The final touch was important,” said the lawyer. “I could see his face, Froman. You could not. I impressed him with the thought that I am ready to bestow a fortune upon some deserving young man who can show his ability to follow instructions to the letter. I shall preserve that thought. He is ours. He will stake all for that quarter million.”
“A trifle!” exclaimed Froman. “A paltry trifle! My men are working for sentiment” — he laughed coldly — “and you even managed Helmsworth through helping him get the backing that he needed. We can afford to pay that trivial price. Think of it, Noyes! You and I, with the wealth of—”
“Let us consider that later,” interrupted Noyes dryly. “There is one detail that you have overlooked. Tobias Waddell, influential though he may be, must meet the customs officials.”
A smile froze on Froman’s face. In his enthusiasm he had forgotten that all-important detail that concerned the delivery of the mysterious baggage that Tholbin was to handle.
“Of course,” said Froman. “Of course. I had forgotten—”
“But I did not forget,” interposed Noyes. “Think a moment. You will have the solution.”
“Moscow,” said Froman thoughtfully. “That must be managed immediately. Paris affairs can wait there. All will be safe, but we can dispose of nothing there. Then the shipment. Across the Atlantic, to New York—”
“Why to New York?”
Froman stared hard when he heard the lawyer’s question. Then keenness flashed in his eyes.
“Helmsworth!” he exclaimed.
Parker Noyes nodded. Froman grasped the attorney’s hand. The two men walked to the door of the little office. Froman did not utter another word. Only Noyes spoke.
“Send word by code to Moscow,” said the lawyer.
Frederick Froman nodded and left.
NEW events had taken place in New York. Plotters had changed their plans. Miles out to sea, the Bremen was moving swiftly on its rapid course across the Atlantic. On that ship was the only man who could have coped with these new problems. That man was The Shadow — on his way to Moscow.
Yet the aftermath of the conferences at the home of Parker Noyes took place upon that very ship. A single light shone upon a table in the corner of a cabin de luxe. Beneath that light were two white hands which held a radiogram that had been received that night.
NINE FIRST THIRD TEN QUARTER NINE HALF SECOND THIRD TEN
Those were the words that formed the message. A strange, numerical code; yet its meaning was evident to the eyes that studied it. The right hand wrote these remarks upon another sheet of paper.
First — Froman.
Second — Tholbin.
Third — Noyes.
These were the keys. They made it plain that at approximately nine o’clock Frederick Froman had visited Parker Noyes, and had not left until quarter past ten. They also stated that at half past nine, David Tholbin, too, had visited the lawyer, leaving at approximately ten o’clock.
The Shadow’s operatives — Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland — had kept good vigil that night. Although they had learned no vital information, they had reported to Burbank the moves made by the men whom they had been deputed to watch.
New plans were under way; and The Shadow held a slender clew. He had already learned of the negotiations between Froman and Noyes; now he had proof that Tholbin, too, was in the picture.
To The Shadow, all facts had a value. His destination lay ahead, in Moscow; still, he kept in touch with events in New York. Could the meager news be of use to him?
The answer was a soft laugh that whispered through the cabin. The light went out; the laugh continued. At last its ghostly echoes died away. The cabin was empty.
Upon an upper deck of the great ship, a silent man stood cloaked in darkness. Two eyes shone as they peered across the moonlit expanse of the moving ocean.
A mighty brain was thinking, planning, preparing to meet the schemes of master plotters. Its thoughts were duplicating those that had occurred to other minds.
Methods had changed since The Shadow had first set out to thwart the evil plan in Moscow. But, although new problems must be met, The Shadow would be ready. The faithful agents of this master of the night had done their work well.
The Shadow knew!
CHAPTER VIII. MEN IN MOSCOW
THE lofty towers of the Kremlin loomed like spectral spires against a darkening sky as a man strode toward them along a narrow street of the Kitai Gorod — the old commercial quarter of Moscow.
Turning a corner, the walker lost sight of the famous citadel as he made his way along another byway that was lined with antiquated buildings. Passing a soldier who stood beneath a dim street lamp, the walking man raised his hand in friendly greeting. The soldier spoke in Russian.
“Good evening, Comrade Senov,” were his words.
Responding, Senov kept on his way. A tall, hard-faced man, of powerful physique, he seemed to symbolize the spirit of new Russia. Many knew Senov, ardent champion of liberated workers. A smile appeared upon his leathery lips as he thought of the soldier’s greeting.