with Bruce Duncan at the Metrolite Hotel until further notice.
Vincent had seemed a bit impatient. But Fellows had taken the whole affair very calmly, and his soothing advice had quieted the eager young man. It was evident that The Shadow intended to think matters over carefully. The situation was unquestionably a difficult one.
The limousine had passed through the Holland Tunnel. It had traveled several miles into New Jersey and was now running along an unimportant highway. The chauffeur pulled up at a small service station.
'Always get my gasoline here, sir,' he explained to Fellows, opening the rear door of the car to do so.
'I have no objections.' The insurance broker smiled.
The chauffeur closed the door. Fellows shut his eyes and yawned. As he did, he thought he heard the door open and close again. Probably the chauffeur had not shut it tightly the first time.
The limousine was moving again. The insurance broker was completely alone in back; in fact, he was entirely by himself, for the glass partition was closed behind the chauffeur.
'This is really comfortable,' he said aloud.
'I agree with you,' replied a voice.
FELLOWS was startled. The voice had come from the corner of the car. It was black there, for there were no lights along the road. But Fellows was not surprised simply because he heard the voice; it was the tone of the voice that startled him. He had heard it before - long ago - that weird whisper. It had always seemed friendly to him, but he could well imagine it as a voice that could create dread apprehension.
'The Shadow!' he exclaimed.
'Yes,' came the sibilant whisper. 'To-day's report was excellent.'
'Thank you,' replied Fellows.
'Realizing that you would be alone,' said the voice of The Shadow, 'I took this opportunity to join you on your journey. I have been thinking matters over. Listen carefully while I tell you what our new plans will be. You can give Vincent his instructions tomorrow.'
Fellows leaned back in the seat and shut his eyes. He felt more accustomed to that strange, whispered voice. It was low but clear. Every word seemed to impress itself upon his mind.
'The fourth man, picked for death, will reach the meeting place on next Tuesday. At ten o'clock a train leaves Harrisburg - southwest, through the Cumberland Valley. I believe the meeting place is in that direction - perhaps among the surrounding mountains.
'Before next Tuesday the place must be discovered. You may intrust that work to two men - Harry Vincent and Bruce Duncan.
'You will receive a memorandum to-morrow morning by nine o'clock.'
The big car turned off the road and stopped between stone gateposts. A keeper appeared in the glare of the lights and opened the iron gates.
The limousine swung up the driveway. It stopped at the entrance to Cranston's mansion. The chauffeur opened the door on the side where The Shadow sat. The porch lights shone fully into the interior of the automobile. The insurance broker could see the entire seat as he stepped out.
The car was empty!
At some instant - probably when they had stopped at the gates - The Shadow had disappeared, silently and invisibly.
Fellows could not believe his senses. He almost doubted that he had had a companion in the limousine.
He would have considered it all a dream, but for those clear thoughts and statements that still lingered in his mind.
He went leisurely into the house. He gave his hat and coat to a waiting servant. He was ushered into the large living room.
Lamont Cranston greeted him with a smile. The millionaire was a comparatively young man, but his face seemed a trifle old. In fact it was almost masklike, as though his features possessed an artificial mold - a surface over a face beneath.
Cranston's eyes were twinkling in a kindly manner.
'Glad to see you, Claude,' he said.
'Thanks for sending the car,' replied Fellows.
'That's all right.' The millionaire laughed. 'But I've been worrying about you, old man. Rather a dull trip it must have been - coming out here all alone.'
'I didn't mind it.'
'That's good.' The millionaire's face took on an almost solemn expression. 'Yet it must have been rather lonely for you. So I'll send a few of the other guests back with you to-night. It will be more interesting than to sit all alone - alone with darkness - and shadows.'
CHAPTER XIX. A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
IT was Monday morning.
Two men were eating a late breakfast in the only restaurant of a small town in Pennsylvania. They were alone in a corner. Across the street they could see the railroad station.
The man nearest the window began to speak.
'Well, Harry,' he said, 'this looks like our last bet. The thriving town of Culbertville, Pennsylvania. Unless we find something here, the whole plan is wrong.'
'Maybe we slipped up in one of the other towns, Bruce.'
'Well, we made enough inquiries. Of course, time has been short. We can finish here to-day, then try the other places again to-morrow. But there are other places that we haven't visited at all.'
'Those were eliminated in the final instructions we received from Fellows.'
'You mean in that telegram that was waiting for us in Harrisburg?'
'Yes.'
'Why did Fellows cut them off the list? What does he know about it? We're here on the ground. He's back in New York.'
'The instructions came from The Shadow, Bruce. Fellows merely passed them on to us.'
'Maybe The Shadow is wrong, Harry.'
'You don't know The Shadow, Bruce.'
The man by the window shrugged his shoulders.
'He knows his stuff all right, Harry. I can see that. But there's just a certain amount that a human mind can do. I understand his plan all right. He thinks that one of the towns along this branch line is the spot we're after. So he studies them all from some standpoint that we don't know, and cuts some of them off the list. I admit that that's good theory. But does it work in practice?'
'That's what we're trying to find out.'
'I know. So far it's been a blank. Keep on with it; I'm game. But I'm beginning to question the entire basis of the thing. There's two great chances of error. First - Elbridge Meyers. Are we sure he's one of the men? Second - assuming that he is one of them, did he come this way?'
'It's all based on deduction, Bruce. The Shadow is a master of that art.'
'Granted. But we're playing two long shots just the same. I'm right with you, Harry. But I don't want to be disappointed if it doesn't work out.'
His companion reached in his pocket and drew out a letter.
'I just stepped in the post office,' he explained. 'Meant to open this when I came in. It's from Fellows -
sent general delivery to reach us here this morning. It can't be very important, but it may have some notes of interest.'
He opened the letter and scanned the written page. Bruce Duncan could see that the words were in code.
'Well,' said Harry Vincent, smiling. 'Here's an answer to your first question. Investigation has revealed that all three men - Hooper, Longstreth, and Meyers - were in Russia some years ago. Looks like the original idea is correct.'
'Let's see the letter,' suggested Bruce curiously.
Harry gave it to him.
