But The Shadow had triumphed. His lone aid had been rescued. Fighting single-handed, the figure in black was free, once more pursuing the quest of the stolen gems!
CHAPTER XVII. ON THE GASCONNE
THE steamship Gasconne was three nights out from Cherbourg. The huge liner was plowing through a calm sea. It had been a quiet, enjoyable trip for even the most apprehensive passengers.
A young man came walking along a passage that ended at the side of the ship. It was David Tholbin, attired in a well-fitted Tuxedo. He paused before the last door on the left and knocked. In response to a call from within, he opened the door, and entered a large stateroom.
Tobias Waddell and his daughter Betty were seated in the stateroom. The millionaire waved in greeting as Tholbin entered. The young man had worked his way into Waddell’s good graces, during this trip.
“You seem to like this stateroom,” said Tholbin, with a smile. “You have been here all evening.”
“A very fine stateroom,” responded Waddell. “You picked it out for me. I haven’t forgotten that fact.”
“I was fortunate in engaging it,” replied Tholbin. “I was sure that Betty would like the adjoining cabin, too.”
He indicated a door on the other side of the stateroom. It was the connection between this room and one occupied by the millionaire’s daughter.
“I think it’s wonderful — ” began Betty.
Waddell interrupted his daughter.
“The room’s all right, David,” he said. “But why did you let them put that great big trunk in there?”
“I don’t mind it, daddy,” said Betty. “It’s not in the way, at all. It’s really very light, too, for its size. It looks terribly heavy, but I had no trouble pushing it into another corner.”
A worried look came over Tholbin’s face when he heard the reference to the trunk. He laughed in a forced manner and made an explanation.
“It should have gone in the hold,” he explained, “but it was left out, and I ordered it put in my cabin. It would not go through the door. Too bulky. But Betty’s cabin has that large, locked door that opens on the promenade deck. We were able to put it through there.”
“I guess it’s all right,” grumbled Waddell. “After all, you did a good job getting these reservations on such short order. I was planning for two more weeks in Paris. Then along came that cablegram from Parker Noyes, telling me to get home quick on the Gasconne.
“It had me worried — big interests of mine going to pieces. We had to come. I feel better now, though, since that radio message two nights ago, saying that the crisis had ended.”
David Tholbin nodded seriously. He knew that Tobias Waddell had no inkling of what Parker Noyes was actually doing.
These reservations had been made long in advance. Tholbin had merely followed the lawyer’s instructions in picking them up. The large trunk had been placed in Betty’s stateroom by design. The business crisis mentioned by Parker Noyes was a fake.
“Pretty near midnight,” declared Waddell, glancing at his watch. “We’ve been here most of the evening. Time to get out of the place.”
“I am going to bed,” said Betty. “Remember, Dave, you promised that you would be up at six o’clock to call me. I want to watch the dawn, over the ocean.”
“I’ll be here,” declared Tholbin. “I guess I had better knock at the deck door. I don’t want to disturb your father.”
“That’s a good idea,” replied Betty.
Waddell arose. He was dressed in evening clothes, which had become rumpled. The fat millionaire cared very little about his attire. He formed a contrast to Tholbin, who looked the part of a tailor-made man.
Both Waddell and Tholbin said good night to Betty. They left the stateroom and walked along the little passageway until they reached a lengthwise corridor.
“I’m going up to the smoking room,” declared Waddell. “Get a few drinks, and drop into that poker game. Coming with me?”
“No,” replied Tholbin. “I’m going to sleep for a while. Perhaps I’ll drop in later in the evening and see how you’re making out.”
LEAVING Waddell, Tholbin went to his cabin, in another part of the ship. He opened a steamer trunk and brought out a folder, from which he extracted some papers.
Examining these, one by one, he tore them into fragments, and tossed the tiny bits of paper through a porthole. Lighting a cigarette, Tholbin threw himself upon the bed and stared reflectively at the ceiling.
He was well satisfied with the way matters were progressing; at the same time, he was now convinced that Parker Noyes was engineering a game that was more than eccentric.
The careful preparations regarding the staterooms; the summoning of so important a person as Tobias Waddell; these were indications that big matters were at stake.
All doubts that David Tholbin had entertained regarding the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars were now forgotten. He was positive that the offer was authentic.
Parker Noyes must have been highly persuasive with Tobias Waddell. It was understood that after the arrival in New York, Tholbin’s engagement to the millionaire’s daughter would be promptly announced.
There was a rap at the stateroom door. Tholbin leaped to his feet. He had grown nervous recently. His meetings with Senov; these preparations aboard ship; other matters that were pending; all gave him a sense of restlessness.
A man was standing at the door — a room steward whom Tholbin had observed on previous occasions.
The fellow was holding a radiogram. Tholbin took it from his hands. He saw that the attendant was waiting.
“Well?”
As Tholbin asked the question, he drew back suddenly. The dull-faced steward was wearing a small stickpin that bore the shape of a crown!
“I thought you might have an answer, sir,” remarked the steward, in a foreign tone.
“Ah, yes. Perhaps.” David Tholbin nodded while he spoke. “Wait until I read this.”
He opened the radiogram. It was a brief message. These were the simply stated words:
PURCHASE ARRANGED AS PER ORDER
PERKINS
The message and the signature fitted the instructions from Parker Noyes. Before dawn, Tholbin had a duty to perform — the last task in his strange series of assignments. This radiogram was the final notice to proceed.
Placing the message in his pocket, Tholbin approached the steward. He placed the finger tips of his right hand against those of the left, and made the sign of the crown. The steward responded with the same action.
“Half past five,” whispered Tholbin, “in the morning. Meet promptly outside of Stateroom 7-D, promenade deck.”
“With the others?” The steward’s question was tense.
“With the others,” David Tholbin repeated.
Within his stateroom, Tholbin paused before he closed the door. He watched the form of the steward going down the passage. Satisfied that all was well, he went back into the room.
NEITHER Tholbin nor his newly revealed confederate had observed the vague, shadowy figure that was standing in a short passage leading from the main one. No eye could have discerned that shape, for it was motionless and virtually invisible.
No more than a tall, fantastic mass of black, it seemed like an odd shadow beneath the dim light in the passage. Now, with no eyes upon it, the shape assumed a human form. It became The Shadow. Silently, the figure in black approached the door of Tholbin’s stateroom, and stood there like a spectral master of doom.
The doorknob was turning. With a quick turn, The Shadow regained the side passage and melted into nothingness, just as David Tholbin entered the corridor.
The young man strode along it without a glance behind him. After he was out of sight, The Shadow went back to the door. It was unlocked.