thoroughfare.
Ling Chow stayed on - he was very indefinite about how long he would remain. So Loo Choy was content, and paid very little attention to his friendly cousin. It seemed quite natural for Ling Chow to be there again - natural to both Loo Choy and to Wang Foo. Yet there was a real mystery in his presence.
For at the same time that Ling Chow was standing behind the counter in Wang Foo’s tea shop, Ling Chow was also talking bundles over the counter of a Chinese laundry in Yonkers!
There were two Ling Chows; and no one - not even Loo Choy or Wang Foo - could have distinguished one from the other!
CHAPTER XIV
AT HOLMWOOD ARMS
The first week at Holmwood Arms was an enjoyable experience for Harry Vincent. He had lived in luxury at the Metrolite Hotel, but he had been merely one guest among many, and had followed the isolated existence that is the usual routine of those who stay in large hotels.
But a different spirit prevailed at Holmwood Arms. The inn was a fashionable one and a great deal of the social life of Holmwood centered about its spacious salons. Many of the guests had been residents for years; all of them were persons well situated in life; and they welcomed a new arrival.
Particularly a gentleman like Harry Vincent. He was very evidently a man of refinement and education. With money at his disposal - and his supply seemed virtually limitless - he was capable of cutting a good figure in such surroundings.
The mysterious stranger of the bridge had chosen well when he had picked Harry Vincent for a henchman. For the young man was serious, yet affable; friendly, yet discreet.
Harry felt that he had assumed a real responsibility; that his work demanded proper living and wise action. The fact that he could obtain money whenever he wanted it made him choose the wise course of economy. He limited his expenditures to reasonable amounts, and kept a careful account of all expenses. This had not been asked of him; but he wanted to be ready with a full account, should it ever be demanded of him.
The great appeal of his unique work lay in the adventure that it offered.
Harry had always craved adventure; but had never possessed the initiative to seek it. In his present position, it might be forced upon him at any time. He felt that he was ready for it.
He had no desire to go through another experience like the disaster at Wang Foo’s; at the same time, he had no fear for his future safety.
The Shadow had been powerful enough to snatch him from the clutches of what seemed certain doom; and Harry felt confident that he would be saved from any danger which might come, or it would not be The Shadow’s fault.
Harry spent his first week at Holmwood Arms without making any effort to gain quick results. He felt that he was gaining the confidence of the people in the inn; that he was establishing himself soundly in the community.
Harry drove about considerably in his coupe. The car was a recent model of a high-priced make - speedy, powerful and reliant. He rode slowly past the Laidlow home and took in the surroundings much more effectively than he had from the newspaper photographs. He walked about the district also, but gained no added information during his casual inspections.
The inn was about half a mile from the town of Holmwood. Leaving the village, one followed a shady avenue that led directly to the home of the murdered millionaire. A side street, turning left from the road to the Laidlow house, went to Holmwood Arms. The millionaire’s house was about a half a mile from the hotel.
Beyond the Laidlow home was the residence of Ezekiel Bingham, the well-known lawyer whose testimony had been so important to the police. Bingham’s house was not a pretentious one; the grounds were small, but the place was well kept.
In his study of the terrain, Harry gained a first-class impression of what must have happened on that eventful night. He rode by the Laidlow house in his car, after dark, and visualized the scene.
The path that the burglar would logically have followed lay straight across the lawn and through the hedge, Harry thought. Old Ezekiel Bingham must have witnessed the man’s entire flight across the dark grass; but even had he possessed youthful agility, he would have been unable to stop the man.
During one of his trips to the village, Harry encountered the elderly lawyer. He was in the bank, cashing a check. The teller spoke to Bingham by name.
Strolling to the door, Harry saw the lawyer enter a large sedan and drive toward his home. Bingham evidently had no chauffeur. He had been driving by the Laidlow house alone on the night of the murder.
Harry smiled as he observed the slow course of the lawyer’s car. He passed it in his coupe as he rode back to Holmwood Arms; then, on sudden thought, he kept on the road toward the Laidlow home and parked in front of the nearest house before the millionaire’s residence.
He watched Bingham’s sedan roll slowly by; one could tell that the driver was probably a man of years. He noted the meager speed of the car as it neared the Laidlow estate. If Bingham always traveled at that snail’s pace there was no wonder that the old man had stopped quickly when he heard the shots.
Back at the inn, Harry did some serious thinking. How far was he getting with his investigation? Not far, he must admit. Nearly ten days had elapsed since his arrival at the Long Island town, and he had merely gained a view of places and people that he had already known about.
He had not even seen Burgess, Laidlow’s secretary. He had noted one or two persons on the Laidlow grounds, but had not viewed any of them closely. Harry had picked up various remarks regarding the murder, but most of them seemed unimportant, although he remembered them.
Burgess, he learned, was still living at the house of the murdered millionaire. Mrs. Laidlow was at home, but neither she nor her two sons were to be seen. They were going away shortly; already packing for a trip to Florida, and it was understood that Burgess was going with them.
The secretary had proven his worth by his valiant effort to apprehend the man who had murdered his employer. He belonged definitely to the Laidlow family, and it was obvious that the wife of the dead millionaire would rely upon Burgess to identify the murderer - if the criminal should be captured.
With both Burgess and Bingham as material witnesses, there was an excellent chance that the murderer would be recognized when - and if - arrested.
During his second week at Holmwood Arms, Vincent began to study the guests at the hotel. There must be some possible clew to the murder in the town of Holmwood - that is, if The Shadow actually expected clews. But otherwise he would not have ordered Vincent there.
Since he was to look for clews, and had not yet discovered any, Harry figured the best course would be to work around the inn for a while. For if a clew lay there, it would be positive negligence to overlook it while it was so close at hand.
When this idea first occurred to Harry, his original thought was to watch the guests who seemed most reticent to talk. He looked for suspicious characters, for persons who kept to themselves and who did not make friends.
There were several guests of this type, but Harry soon realized that his plan was wrong. Any man who might be bold enough to stay so close to the scene of a murder with which he had some connection would seek to avoid suspicion.
Harry tried to picture himself in the place of the imaginary man. How would he behave? In a friendly way, of course. Very much in the way Vincent was now acting - playing the part of a man who had some occupation which did not require all of his time or effort.
As he spent only a few hours of the day at his typewriter, Harry had an excellent opportunity to look for guests of his own type. There were five men at the hotel whose occupations seemed sketchy. He chatted with them frequently, and gradually eliminated them until he came to Elbert Joyce - a man about forty years of age, a talkative fellow who knew many subjects and loved to swing his conversation from one theme to another.
Joyce claimed to be a salesman. He had left one concern and was awaiting another job on the road - a job which had been promised positively. In the meantime he was taking things easy - why shouldn’t he? He made
