been to the police. He was glad that he was not a police detective. He regarded the mystery as completely baffling.
Nevertheless, he read the hundreds of details that went with the murder story, including such items as the early life of Geoffrey Laidlow, the place the millionaire’s wife held in society, and numerous other facts which led him nowhere.
Harry studied the pictures of the millionaire’s estate, the newspaper diagrams of the house, the graphic drawings which illustrated the various positions of the participants, including that of the chauffeur running in from the garage at the rear.
The police were working every device and pulling every cord which might unloosen the ravel. Harry Vincent realized the importance that the police of today place upon crude, but often effective, methods.
Yet it seemed to him that a master thinker could untangle the snarl more surely. There must be some clew, some opening, which reason could discover while commonplace systems were failing. Still, a man who runs in the dark, and is fortunate enough to leave no telltale footprints, is indeed a difficult quarry.
Harry could see no purpose in studying the details of this crime. But his instructions had been definite, and he owed so much to The Shadow that it would be both unfair and unwise not to have obeyed orders.
Harry reached the point where he could picture the entire layout of the Laidlow grounds, and every salient detail of the house himself.
On the other hand, the Scanlon murder, Harry was pleased to note, had been relegated to the back pages. This was a real relief; it seemed to have been forgotten.
He read the few reports concerning it, and here he drew a definite conclusion. Steve Cronin was not named, but it seemed obvious that he had been recognized leaving the hotel, or possibly some “stool” had squealed. Knowing their man, the police were probably using the dragnet and communicating with other cities.
Harry congratulated himself that he had come in for no further questioning about the affair. Since his adventure at Wang Foo’s, it no longer seemed to him of great consequence.
Harry’s passive investigations of the facts in the Laidlow murder were occupying his mornings, for he had been instructed to remain in his hotel room until eleven o’clock every day. The whole business was like a vacation.
He had received a package containing a book of blank checks on a large Manhattan bank. Evidently deposits would be made in his name to cover any expenditures. That alone was a source of real satisfaction.
So, on this morning of the third day, he was comfortable and indolent, idly speculating what the future might bring, when the telephone’s ringing interrupted.
He lifted the receiver to recognize the voice of Fellows.
“Mr. Vincent,” came the words, “I would like to see you this morning -“
The telephone clicked. He had been cut off.
There was no emphasis in the message. Yet its meaning was obvious. Fellows himself had terminated the conversation, knowing that Vincent would realize his presence was desired at the Broadway insurance office.
Donning his hat and coat, Harry left the hotel and headed for the Grandville Building. He knew a sensation of keen interest. Somehow, idleness was becoming an annoyance. The rest after his adventure with the dangerous Chinese had been welcome, but he knew that he could never be content with enforced, continued inactivity.
He was ushered into Fellows’ private office. The chubby, deliberate man behind the desk was discoursing upon everybody’s need for insurance with his stenographer for audience. But when the girl had left the room, the insurance broker quietly changed his topic of conversation.
“You have followed my instructions?” he asked.
“Regarding the newspapers?” questioned Harry.
“Yes.”
“I’ve read about the Laidlow murder.”
“How does it impress you?”
“It is extremely confusing.”
Fellows smiled faintly.
“You would make a good police detective,” he said in his slow voice. “Those fellows are perplexed.”
“That’s a good excuse for me,” said Vincent. “I suppose I have a right to be perplexed, too.”
“I do not ask for excuses,” answered Fellows. “I merely want to know if you have done the work of reading the newspapers.”
“I have.”
“Good. Then you are ready for the next step.”
“What is that?”
“To go to Holmwood.”
“For how long?”
“Until you are recalled.”
Vincent nodded, and awaited further information.
“You will stay at Holmwood Arms,” explained Fellows. “It is not far distant from the Laidlow home. A room has been reserved for you there. If anyone questions your occupation, give the impression that you are an author who has a moderate income from a legacy. Can you run a typewriter?”
“After a fashion.”
“Buy a portable, then. Take it with you. Use it occasionally.”
“Very well.”
“You drive a car, don’t you?”
“When I have one.”
“You will have one. A coupe is out there now. It has been delivered to the Holmwood Arms garage. It is a used car, but in excellent condition. It will give the idea that you have been driving considerably about the country.”
The prospect of his new assignment was pleasing to Harry Vincent.
“I have learned,” resumed Fellows, “that you have a New York driver’s license. That fits in well with the plans. It saves considerable annoyance, such as passing driving tests. Do you have the card with you?”
“Here it is.”
“Fine. You are a good driver?”
“Reasonably good.”
“Then you can use the car for most purposes. Come into the city with it, if you wish.”
“When shall I come into the city?”
“Only when you receive word from me. I may summon you fairly often. In your assumed capacity of a writer, it would be natural for you to come in occasionally. Always carry a briefcase, containing some typewritten sheets.”
Fellows rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, locked his hands, and set his chin upon them.
“You have probably guessed the purpose of your trip to Holmwood,” he said. “During your stay there, you will learn whatever you can about the Laidlow murder. Do not act as a detective or an investigator. Simply keep your ears open for anything they may pick up. Try to see or observe anyone who may know anything about it. Note any unusual activities on the part of any of those people.
“You may even mention the subject yourself, if you see an opportunity of starting discussion. Ask a few questions here and there, but do it casually.
“Do not let the subject worry you. Even if you seem to be drawing blanks, keep on playing the game. Do not forget a single detail that you may discover. Each item is important although seemingly trivial to you. Hold all information in your mind. If you think you have learned something unusual, or if you have accumulated a multitude of details, report directly to me. Otherwise, wait until I call you.”
“How shall I report?” asked Harry.
“Always in person.”
“How will you communicate with me?”
“As I did today, if I wish to see you. Perhaps you may hear from some one else through emphasized words.”
