Harry Vincent completed his message. He was wearing the ear phones while he jotted down the reply which he was receiving.
'I have full instructions,' he announced. 'The arrival of Major Weston had made it unnecessary for us to watch the old ruined house. We are to wait here and be cautious for another week. It is probable that the sixth man will arrive next Tuesday. We must intercept him, also, if possible. The Russian, we now know, is due a week from Wednesday. That is the night that we shall attack.'
'But to-night,' objected Bruce. 'What about tonight? Won't Chefano be suspicious when Major Weston does not arrive?'
'That matter was covered in the message,' replied Harry. 'The nonappearance of one man will mean nothing. Chefano has no proof that Major Weston received the messages that were sent him. Nor has he any proof that Major Weston intended to keep the appointment. One man less means one less crime. He will surely wait until the Russian appears. This plan which The Shadow has arranged will protect Major Weston.'
There was a note of finality in Harry Vincent's voice. The plan did not satisfy Bruce Duncan. He looked inquiringly at Major Weston. To his surprise, the Englishman agreed with Vincent.
'I am satisfied,' he said. 'I shall be pleased to remain with you until a week from Wednesday night - the time originally appointed. I shall accompany you to the meeting place on that night.'
CHAPTER XXIX. LAMONT CRANSTON DISAPPEARS
DOCTOR WELLS seemed highly pleased with the condition of his injured patient, Lamont Cranston.
'You have been improving rapidly,' he said, as be stood at the foot of the bed. 'I have rarely witnessed such a rapid recovery.'
'Excellent,' observed the millionaire, who was leaning against propped-up pillows. 'How soon will I be on my feet?'
'You are almost on your feet now,' replied the physician. 'You have walked about the room to-day. But you must not try to be active for a while. Let me see. This is Tuesday afternoon. It was a week ago last night that you were injured. Suppose we wait until next Tuesday, before you leave the house.'
'All right,' yawned the millionaire.
'Has Mr. Fellows been here again?' questioned the doctor.
'Not since the time you summoned him last week,' answered Cranston. 'He brought Burbank here, you know. Burbank has communicated with him.'
'Oh, yes; Burbank, the wireless operator. I haven't seen him yet.'
'He spends most of his time upstairs. Wireless is my hobby, you know. I experiment frequently. I feel satisfied to know that my work is going on, even though I am incapable of attending to it.'
'You may be able to take a hand at it yourself, by the end of the week,' said the doctor.
'That's encouraging. The way I feel to-day, I could be up and around - outdoors - anywhere.'
'Forget that idea,' ordered Doctor Wells.
The door opened, and Richards entered. The servant gave a sheet of paper to Lamont Cranston.
'Mr. Burbank sent this down, sir,' stated Richards. 'He said it came in at three o'clock.'
Cranston's keen eyes scanned the paper before him. Then the millionaire tossed the message on the bed.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as though engaged in deep thought. Doctor Wells could see the paper. It was inscribed with a series of dots and dashes - a wireless code.
Suddenly the millionaire seized a pencil. He wrote rapidly on the reverse side of the paper. Doctor Wells was amazed at his remarkable activity. Cranston paused occasionally as though inspired by sudden thought, then he continued to inscribe his series of dots and dashes. He passed the paper to Richards.
'Tell Burbank to send this.'
Doctor Wells noticed that the injured man seemed weary as he laid his head against the pillows.
'Don't try to be mentally active,' he said. 'It will prove quite as bad as physical strain. I advise you to forget your wireless for a few days.'
Lamont Cranston seemed to be giving the matter consideration. Doctor Wells turned to Richards, who had just returned from the wireless room.
'Richards,' he said, 'can I rely upon you to see that Mr. Cranston does not overdo himself? Has he been using much mental effort - particularly in reference to the wireless upstairs?'
The valet hesitated. He looked at his master.
'Tell him the truth, Richards,' said Cranston, with a smile.
'Well, sir,' admitted the valet, 'he has seen Mr. Burbank quite often. I would say, sir, that it has spruced him up a bit. But he seems to become very tired at times, sir.'
'Very bad,' said the physician. 'You must forget this hobby of yours until the end of the week, Mr.
Cranston. I am not sure that it is advisable for Burbank to be here.'
The man in the bed motioned wearily to Richards.
'Bring me a sheet of paper and my green fountain pen. An envelope, also. Remember, the green fountain pen.'
He received the articles.
'Now, Richards,' he said, as he began to write, slowly and laboriously, 'go and bring Burbank here.'
Lamont Cranston was sealing the letter in the envelope when the wireless operator arrived.
'Any reply to that last message?' asked the millionaire.
'Yes,' said Burbank. 'Here it is.'
He showed a paper that bore a short series of dots and dashes. Cranston smiled.
'That's an O.K.,' he said. He wrote a short reply. 'Send this - it will be your last message. You have your car here, haven't you, Burbank?'
'Yes.'
'After you've sent the message, come downstairs and bring your car from the garage. You can take Doctor Wells to his home; it will save Stanley another trip. I won't need you any more, Burbank. We'll close the station until the end of the week. Take this letter into town with you; I've already addressed it to Mr. Fellows.'
Richards helped the injured man as he tried to push the banked-up pillows from beneath his head.
Lamont Cranston turned on his side and closed his eyes. His recent efforts seemed to have taken all his strength.
'You have done wisely,' said the physician quietly. 'You need a great deal of rest. Your strength has merely begun to return. I shall count on Richards to see that you do not overexert yourself during the next few days.'
The doctor pulled down the shades at the windows. He motioned Richards and Burbank from the room.
At the door he glanced toward the man in the bed. His patient was quiet - possibly asleep, thought the doctor.
One minute after the door had closed, Lamont Cranston sat upright. His body shook with silent laughter.
He slipped silently from his bed and made his way to a closet in the corner. He took clothes from their hooks and dressed with amazing rapidity.
Unlocking a table drawer, he removed various articles a small rolled bag of tools; an automatic revolver, a flashlight, and a bulging wallet. He moved silently toward a window. The sash moved upward without noise.
ABOUT ten minutes after Doctor Wells had left his patient apparently asleep, Burbank came down from the wireless room. He went to the garage for his car. The physician joined him at the door of the house.
The quiet wireless operator drove Doctor Wells to his home, which stood on a curving lane in the town of Merwyn.
The physician congratulated himself as he walked up the steps of his residence. He had handled a rather difficult patient in a most satisfactory way.
'He must have rest,' murmured the practitioner. 'I am glad he finally accepted my verdict. He went to sleep like a child. He thinks he has recovered his strength, yet the least effort tires him. I actually don't believe he is capable of walking downstairs alone, at this very minute.'
It never occurred to Doctor Wells that he might have watched Burbank's coupe as it rolled up the lane toward the wide boulevard a block away. Had he done so, he would have been amazed.
