completely destroyed; it is still covered by the first floor. When the ruins were searched in hopes of discovering the body of the owner, two men were injured by falling stones. Since then the place has been avoided as dangerous.
'The property stands back from Mountain Pike, below Ridge Road. It was reached by a lane extending from Ridge Road, but the byway has fallen into disuse and has long since become little more than a path.
The iron fence erected by Harper Marsden still surrounds the property, including the ancient graveyard.'
Bruce Duncan was still studying the scene below when Harry Vincent concluded his reading. He acted as though he had not heard a single word.
'Want me to read it again?'
'No,' replied Bruce. 'I heard it. That's why I'm so interested. I'm looking at the old cemetery.'
'Can you see it from here?'
'Yes, to the left of the mausoleum. The tombstones look like little gray bricks. There's some one sitting on one of them.'
'What!'
'Some one sitting on one of them,' repeated Bruce. 'A man, sitting on a tombstone. He looks very small, even with these field glasses. He's moving now.
'Harry, he's walking over by the mausoleum. He's running, now, toward the old ruins. Harry, it's the ape- faced man! He's gone!'
Harry seized the glasses. The object of his search had disappeared.
'Are you sure about it, Bruce?'
'Positive,' Bruce declared. 'Do you remember when the creature ran off through the woods, last Monday? It seemed to hop along the ground. I recognized that stride just now.'
'I see something,' remarked Harry. 'A man outside the building. A man with a gray shirt. Chefano wore a gray flannel shirt when we saw him. It may be Chefano. He's gone now.'
They took turns watching through the glasses, but neither saw any further motion near the ruins of the old mansion. They decided to descend.
'It's the meeting place, all right,' declared Bruce as they walked down the path. 'The old lane must be close to Mountain Pike. We went past it without noticing it. That's why we missed the man the other night. If we'd waited for the bus, we would have seen him.'
The more they considered the matter, the more positive they were that they had located the place they sought. To make sure, they drove up Ridge Road and found the abandoned lane. Leaving the car, they walked cautiously along until they discovered the iron fence, which was constructed of iron bars, pointed at the top.
'Stop!' whispered Harry. 'Look along the fence, Bruce.'
On the other side of the pickets stood the ape-faced man. The creature's clawlike hands gripped the bars. Its head turned, and it saw the two men in the lane.
With an ugly snarl the brute ran along behind the fence until it neared the intruders.
'Come along,' exclaimed Harry. 'Back to the car. Chefano may be down here any minute.'
Bruce glanced over his shoulder as he ran. The ape-faced creature was evidently human. It was clad in old, ill-fitting garments.
Back in the cottage, Bruce talked of their discoveries while Harry tapped a call on the wireless. It was late in the afternoon - time to go through the routine of sending a message, even though there was no hope of a reply.
'The creature is safe inside those bars,' said Bruce. 'That's why Chefano is keeping it there at present. I figure that he lived in the cabin so as to keep away from the meeting place except on Tuesday nights. But after that trouble in the road, he moved into the old ruins. I don't think he really suspected us of knowing anything. Our trouble with the ape-man was too obviously accidental. He played safe by moving; that's all.
'Did you see those gates in the fence? They were closed and locked with a chain. That must be the entrance to the place. On Tuesday night, the gates will be unlocked.'
He ended his comments when Harry Vincent adjusted the ear phones. Both men lighted cigars.
Suddenly, Harry became alert. He listened intently for a minute. Then he sprang to the key.
'At last!' he exclaimed. 'A reply!'
With his eyes on the code before him, The Shadow's agent worked with keen rapidity as he sent his report of the new discoveries.
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE FIFTH MAN
AT one o'clock Tuesday afternoon, Harry Vincent and Bruce Duncan were eating lunch in the Culbertville restaurant. They were seated at their customary table in the corner, by the window. Their voices were low, for there were other diners in the restaurant.
'To-night,' said Harry, 'we have another opportunity. Let's hope we can do better than we did last week.'
'Our orders are just the same,' replied his companion. 'Watch the meeting place and intercept the fifth man.'
'Yes, but we are now sure of the meeting place.'
'We thought we were sure of it last Tuesday night.'
'You don't think we're wrong about it now, do you?'
'Don't forget one thing, Harry. This fellow Chefano is as clever as the devil himself. For all we know, he may be laughing at us this very minute.'
Harry shook his head.
'Don't be foolish, Bruce,' he said. 'Everything is all right now. Our one worry is how we are going to handle the situation. But I believe that will work out well. To-night we will receive our final instructions.'
'We didn't get any last Tuesday night - when we needed them most.'
'Something was wrong then. The Shadow expected to be here; at least that's my opinion. But he didn't arrive.'
'Maybe he won't be here to-night.'
Harry Vincent did not reply.
'Suppose,' added Bruce Duncan quizzically, 'that we do not receive further instructions. What are we to do when the fifth man arrives? Follow him or warn him?'
'Follow him, of course.'
'It would be better to warn him.'
'Impossible,' said Harry. 'We couldn't do that in the dark. Remember, each of these men has come secretly to the meeting place. Another is due to-night. He will be suspicious of everything until he reaches his final destination. If we should step out of the darkness and speak to him, he would look upon us as enemies.'
'We might wait for him here at the station.'
'That would be better, but even then he would be suspicious. Most important of all, our orders are specific; we are to begin our watch before midnight. We can't be out by the old ruins and be here, too.'
Bruce Duncan shrugged his shoulders. Somehow he doubted Vincent's faith in the wisdom of The Shadow. It was true that Bruce owed his life to the timely aid The Shadow had given that night at Isaac Coffran's. But the failure of a week ago had somewhat curbed Bruce's enthusiasm.
A TRAIN pulled into the station across the street. It was the afternoon local from Harrisburg. Bruce Duncan studied the few passengers who alighted. One was a heavy-set man with a ruddy complexion who stood on the station platform and surveyed the scene curiously.
Bruce watched the stranger. The man walked over to the bus and talked for a minute with the driver.
Then he crossed the street and disappeared from Bruce's view.
Harry Vincent was reading a newspaper. Bruce Duncan slipped quietly from his chair and left the restaurant. He moved across the street and approached the bus driver.
'Hello,' said the driver. 'Going to ride out with me?'
'No; we have our car here in town. I just came over to say 'Hello.''
'Reckon I'll have another passenger for Ridge Road to-night. It seems like I let somebody off there once a week.'
