'No. I have not.'
'We must communicate with him. It would be inadvisable for you to see him. I shall attend to the matter.
He is at his country home, I suppose?'
'I have called him there, but have received no answer. I suppose he was in the city, and his servant was
not at home. You should be able to reach him there. How is he concerned in this matter?'
Fellows shrugged his shoulders.
'I do not know,' he replied. 'I have instructions to communicate with him. That is all.'
'Could it involve—Arlette?' Harry's question was involuntary. It was not addressed to Claude Fellows;
but the insurance broker heard it. He studied Harry carefully.
'The girl interests you,' he said.
'She does,' admitted Harry. 'I told you how she helped me—that night, in the Pink Rat.'
'You still feel sure that she was the same girl that you saw with Bruce Duncan, the next day.'
'I am certain of it.'
Claude Fellows spread his hands, to indicate that the whole matter was a mystery to him.
'It would be best to forget the girl,' he said. Then, he added, with a smile: 'Forget her—as much as
possible. Your own work is more important. I told you that you may have been watched lately. Have you
observed anything that would indicate that fact?'
Harry mentioned the matter of the man in the lobby of the Hotel Metrolite. The insurance broker made a
note of it.
'Why go back to the hotel?' he asked. 'You are away now. Stay somewhere else to-night. Go to Long
Island in the morning.'
'Good idea,' replied Harry. 'I'll follow that suggestion.'
After leaving the office, Harry visited several stores, and purchased a new wardrobe, as well as a
traveling bag.
He registered at the Baronet Hotel, some squares away from the Metrolite. He went to the theater in the
evening, and returned to his room shortly before midnight.
Harry had just fallen asleep, when the telephone rang in his room. He sat upright in bed. Who could it
be?
He had told no one that he was stopping at the Baronet Hotel. Perhaps they had rung his room by
mistake. Harry let the phone ring for fully a minute. Then, more curious than startled, he answered the
call.
'Mr. Vincent?' It was the voice of the hotel operator. 'We have a call for you.'
Harry acknowledged his name. He had thought of using another name when he had registered, but had
finally, signed his own.
Another voice came over the wire. It was a woman's voice, also; but he did not recognize it for a
moment. Then he suddenly realized that Arlette DeLand was speaking to him!
'Mr. Vincent?'
'Yes.'
'I have something important to tell you -'
'Who is calling?' interrupted Harry abruptly.
'Do not ask my name. I cannot tell it to you. Listen, please -'
'Is this Miss DeLand?' questioned Harry.
'I cannot give you my name,' the girl insisted. 'You met me once— four nights ago in a place called the
Pink Rat -'
'I should like to know your name,' interrupted Harry.
'Please let me give you my message.' The girl's voice was hurried, and her tones were pleading. 'It is
very important. Do not leave town to-morrow. Do not go to Lake Marrinack. Promise me that you will
not go.'
'I can't promise -' Harry began.
'You must not go,' came the insistent voice. 'Promise me, Harry.'
The girl's voice seemed choking from emotion. She seemed unable to continue. Then there came a
sudden interruption. The connection was broken; and the voice of the operator intervened.
Harry endeavored to have the connection restored; but without success.
LONG after he had put aside the telephone, Harry Vincent lay awake, wondering. He was positive that
Arlette DeLand had called him; that she was the girl whom he had seen at the Pink Rat.
But he could not understand how she had learned that he was at the Baronet Hotel. Nor could he explain
her connection with these strange events that were developing.
Who was she? What was her part in the mystery?
If a friend, why did she try to conceal her identity?
If an enemy, why had she saved him four nights ago, and warned him to-night?
It was all beyond Harry Vincent's comprehension. Yet he was now sure of one important fact.
Lake Marrinack was a place where danger lay in store!
Mystery, excitement, and adventure. These three factors were intriguing to Harry's mind. The warning
that had come in the night had assured him that they were ahead.
Harry phoned the room clerk to call him at six in the morning.
He was anxious to start for Lake Marrinack.
CHAPTER XV. DEATH ISLAND
IT was late in the afternoon when Harry Vincent approached the vicinity of Lake Marrinack. Certain
events had caused him to delay.
In the lobby of the Baronet Hotel, he had been sure that some one was watching him, even though he
could not discover the invisible observer.
On that account he had taken a taxicab to the Grand Central Station; and on the way, he had noticed that
another cab was following.
Losing himself in the labyrinth of passages leading to the subway, Harry eventually had taken the shuttle
to the West Side subway, and had thus reached the Pennsylvania Station, where he had boarded a train
for Long Island.
All this had meant delay; he had missed the Bridgeport Ferry, and had been forced to wait idly in his car.
Detours in Connecticut had further retarded his trip. But now the road map showed Lake Marrinack was
near by.
Harry pulled the car to the side of the road, and took another glance at the map. He had studied it on the
ferry; but he had forgotten certain details.
There was a town called Marrinack, a short distance from the lake. The road continued past the town,
and skirted the shore of the lake. Harry decided that the town was the proper place to make inquiries.
His instructions were simply to report to Professor Arthur Whitburn. Harry had made no phone call to
Claude Fellows, to-day; yet he felt that he already had certain information.
The message from the mysterious woman was a sure indication that he was going to meet the right
Whitburn.
This expedition promised danger. Harry pondered over the circumstances as he drove easily along the
narrow, winding highway.
