Now, as he stood in a secluded alcove of the hall, he spread those garments.
The coat developed into a black cloak with a crimson lining that shone sullenly in the obscure light. The red portion of the garment disappeared from view as the folds of the cloak spread about the tall form.
Then the hat took shape. Soft and broad-brimmed, it rested upon the head above the cloak, and its turned-down edge hid the features beneath it.
Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow! Noiselessly, like a phantom of the night, he stalked across the hall to the door of the lawyer’s apartment. There he paused momentarily, and suddenly swung away to seek the shelter of the wall and door. His form merged with the blackness at the end of the hall, as a man stepped from the elevator some distance away.
It was the visitor whom Parker Noyes was expecting. The man came within the range of The Shadow’s observation as he stopped before the door, where The Shadow had so lately been. A man of medium height with square, heavy-jawed face, this stranger had a practical air that characterized him as a man of action.
The door opened in response to the visitor’s rap. When it closed again, The Shadow emerged from his temporary hiding place. His hands, now clad in black gloves, worked silently upon the lock.
The door yielded and The Shadow entered. His tall thin form glided along the inner hall, until it reached the entrance to the lawyer’s office. The visitor had evidently been conducted into this room, for the low buzz of conversation was audible.
From beneath his cloak The Shadow produced an odd-shaped instrument: a disk of black rubber, connected by a wire to a cup-shaped earphone.
With one hand, The Shadow pressed the disk over the keyhole of the door. The earphone disappeared beneath the projecting edge of the slouch hat. With this special device, the figure in black was ready to pick up the sound waves from the inner room. He could hear every word of the conversation.
“Helmsworth,” Noyes was saying to the visitor, “the time has come that I have been anticipating. Are you ready?”
“Not as yet, Mr. Noyes,” came the gruff reply of the visitor. “You will have to allow me three days, at least.”
“You have not lived up to your agreement,” declared Noyes testily. “You were to be in readiness at any time. It was upon that understanding that I managed to arrange the funds that you needed for your polar expedition.”
“Submarines are uncertain at best,” protested Helmsworth. “My ship is ready now, Mr. Noyes, but I can leave nothing to chance. You have demanded a trip across the Atlantic and return, without refueling. No man, other than myself, could have guaranteed such a voyage.
“I have just conducted new experiments and have learned that my estimate was not exact, so we are installing additional fuel tanks. I can positively assure you that we will be ready for the trip three days from now. Nevertheless—”
“What is the trouble?” demanded Noyes, as Helmsworth paused.
“I see difficulties ahead,” replied Helmsworth. “The Straits leading into the Baltic Sea present obstacles in navigation.”
“No more difficult than the ice floes that surround the arctic region,” said Noyes. “You intend to explore there, after you have finished this work for me, don’t you?”
“Exactly,” agreed Silas Helmsworth. “Nevertheless, I can turn back if I experience trouble in the polar region; this voyage which you demand allows no turning back. We cannot land in Russia, you know. I shall undertake it as I promised, but I require the time I have asked, to make the trip a certainty.”
“Then you cannot expect to reach Riga in less than fifteen days from now?” said Noyes thoughtfully.
“That is the time I require,” answered Helmsworth.
“Very well,” said Noyes in a tone of finality. “We shall work on that basis. Be ready to sail at the earliest opportunity. Be sure that everything is in perfect order. After all, that is most essential. You have your instructions. Follow them. Remember to announce only that you are embarking on a test cruise.”
VAGUE sounds came from the room, indicating that the men were rising. The Shadow’s hand plucked the rubber disk from the keyhole in the door. There was a slight sound as the little suction cap was released, then the form of The Shadow disappeared into a room on the other side of the hall.
The door of the office opened. Parker Noyes and his visitor stepped out.
The brief conversation had been illuminating to The Shadow. This visitor was none other than Silas Helmsworth, noted submarine expert and navigator, whose contemplated trip by submarine to the polar regions had been discussed in the newspapers for many months. His connection with Parker Noyes, and the announcement of his destination, were the first link that The Shadow had gained between Marcus Holtmann and one of Tobias Waddell’s guests.
Now that Silas Helmsworth was gone, Parker Noyes went back into his office and closed the door. The Shadow’s work was not yet ended. Emerging from his hiding place, he again attached the rubber disk to the keyhole. The voice of Parker Noyes became audible. The lawyer was speaking over the telephone.
“Riga… Fifteen days… Moscow sixteen days… Arrange for that time… No, we must allow that long… You are sure that Holtmann told all he knows?… Good. Hold him until then, unless…”
There was a pause. Evidently Noyes was hearing a lengthy report from the other end of the line.
“All right, Froman” — Noyes was speaking in a doubtful tone — “that is your duty. You have done your part. I shall not interfere. If you think it best…”
Again the lawyer ceased speaking. The clicking of the receiver indicated another statement. Noyes uttered a terse “good-by.” The telephone clicked as the receiver was placed on the hook.
There was action in the hall outside the office. The Shadow was working swiftly and silently. He detached the instrument from the door, and with rapid noiseless stride, swept along the hall toward the outer door.
Only a slight swish of the black cloak disturbed the silence. With grim decision The Shadow was departing.
There was other work for The Shadow tonight. The life of a man hung in the balance, and only The Shadow could save him!
CHAPTER V. DEATH INTERVENES
MARCUS HOLTMANN was resting wearily upon the floor of his subterranean dungeon. He was no longer confined within the restraining folds of the straitjacket, yet his arms were huddled before his body.
The prisoner seemed still to feel the gripping clutch of the torturing device. The paleness of his blistered face, the weariness of his racked body, and the drooping of his head were indications of the ordeal which he had undergone.
The door of the dungeon opened. Frederick Froman, stolid-faced as ever, entered the gloomy room and stared steadily at the man before him. Holtmann, with apparent weakness, raised his head to meet the gaze of his captor.
No words were exchanged for the moment. Froman wore a look of satisfaction, but gave no sign of elation. Holtmann bore the appearance of a beaten man.
A harsh laugh came from Froman. It was filled more with contempt than with ridicule. He seemed to be eyeing his victim’s plight with the air of a connoisseur who had seen many others in the same position.
“If you have suffered,” he remarked coldly, “you have no one to blame except yourself. I offered you the opportunity to escape the agony which you underwent. You chose otherwise. The result was the same. You have spoken.”
Holtmann offered no reply.
“Perhaps,” said Froman dryly, “it will interest you to know that I have already utilized the information which you so kindly gave me. Therefore, I have no further use for you.”