Something in Duncan's voice told Harry that an unusual discovery had been made. He listened intently for
a further explanation.
CHAPTER XXI. THE ROOM IN THE TOWER
DUNCAN spoke in a low voice. 'On the way from New York I stopped in a small town in Connecticut.
While talking with a garage man, I learned that there was a dangerous curve a few miles farther on. A car
had gone over the edge—into a precipice.
'The driver of the car had been killed. Yet the cause of the accident had not been ascertained. I saw the
car; it was there in the town; and the broken rear axle made me believe that something had smashed it
before the accident.
''Who was driving the car?' I asked.
''The fellow hasn't been identified,' I was told. 'The New York license was a phony. They brought the
man's body in; it's in the morgue now.'
'There must be a morbid streak in my nature. I decided to go over and view the body. It was in the back
room of a local undertaking establishment. When I saw the face, I recognized the man immediately.'
'Who was it?' questioned Harry.
'Berchik,' replied Duncan. 'The man who brought the jewels from Russia. They got him—because he
knew. Do you wonder why I'm in danger?'
'You are in danger, Bruce,' replied Harry soberly. 'Be sure to give that information to Fellows, so it will
-'
'So it will reach The Shadow.' Bruce Duncan supplied the ending of the sentence with promptness. 'I'm
going to do that, Harry.'
'Have you seen any danger threatening yourself?' questioned Harry.
'None,' replied Bruce. 'Only -'
'Only what?'
'I can't understand why this girl—Arlette DeLand—took such sudden interest in me. I was introduced to
her by a German whom I met coming back on the boat from Europe. I knew nothing about the man's
history. I am wondering if Arlette could be -'
'Arlette is all right,' interposed Harry. He could feel indignation sweeping over him. 'She saved me
once—the night before I met her with you. Got me out of a bad jam -'
'She didn't recognize you when she met you!' exclaimed Bruce.
'I know that,' admitted Harry. 'But she was the same girl. She called me up, before I came here—to
warn me against the place— which proves -'
'Which proves that she's mixed up in the affair,' interrupted Duncan calmly.
THESE words stunned Harry Vincent.
He realized that Bruce Duncan had clearly summed up the situation. Arlette must be a factor in the events
which had transpired. Her presence at the Pink Rat had been no accident. Her acquaintance with Bruce
Duncan; her mysterious phone call—
'You're right, Bruce,' admitted Harry thoughtfully. 'She's in it; but somehow, I trust her.'
'While I'm staying clear of her,' replied Duncan. 'Maybe she fell for you, Harry. At the same time, take
my advice, and be careful.'
Harry suddenly realized that they had been talking for a long time. Their meeting had served its purpose.
It was not wise to remain here longer.
'When will I see you again?' he asked Bruce.
'I don't know. You will be notified, I suppose—just as you were before.'
'Don't forget to mention the radio in your report, then. That is important. I can't listen to WNX after eight
o'clock.'
Harry left his friend, and went cautiously back to the store. He did not enter the building; instead, he went
across the road to the garage, and talked with the proprietor. He made arrangements for his car to be
kept there until further notice. Then he started back to the wharf.
There was no sign of the motor boat. Evidently Stokes had returned to Death Island. It was not yet half
past ten. But as Harry stood on the wharf, he heard the chugging of the motor—and the boat suddenly
appeared around a point in the lake.
If Stokes was coming from the island, he had chosen a roundabout way. Harry thought quickly; then
ducked back into the woods. He had a hunch that Stokes had docked the boat farther down the lake
and had visited the village.
Waiting until the boat had pulled up at Harvey's Wharf, Harry advanced along the path, whistling as he
approached. He noticed the boat, and clambered aboard, without even greeting the man who was at the
helm.
That seemed to suit Stokes. He gave no sign of welcome. He piloted the boat directly back to Death
Island. Harry handed him the flashlight, with the single word: 'Thanks.'
DEATH ISLAND was black and silent as the boat approached. No twinkling lights to-night; no phantom
shapes. There was no sign that anything out of the ordinary existed in that tract of land that loomed from
the center of Lake Marrinack.
Stokes went in to Professor Whitburn's study, when they had reached the house. Harry took it that he
was reporting their return.
After a half hour of reading, Harry decided to go to bed. He went upstairs, and as he passed, he noted
that the door that led to the tower was ajar.
Harry's room was under a corner of the tower. He had been conscious of that fact the night before. It
had troubled him; yet it had indicated nothing. But to-night, he seemed to detect a faint tapping on the
ceiling of his room. It continued intermittently; then stopped.
The sound was peculiar, yet methodical. The taps came in rhythmic beats. They could not be made by
any one working, for they changed their rhythm too often.
Finally the sound ceased. Five minutes passed. It began again; then stopped. Another interval, of perhaps
five minutes. Again a short series of taps.
This was enough for Harry. He had felt that the tower demanded investigation. Now he was sure of it.
The door that stood ajar was a temptation.
Opening his door, Harry stepped into the darkness of the hallway. He slipped silently along, until he
found the door of the tower. It was still ajar.
Wearing soft slippers, Harry crept up the stairs. He moved with the utmost caution; the creaky stairs
groaned very slightly.
The stairway was a winding one. As Harry turned a bend, he noted a faint light from the room above.
The light was so insignificant that it could not be observable outside.
His steps becoming slower, Harry reached the top. There he could discern the objects in the room; for
faint moonlight penetrated the apartment, through a skylight.
Each corner of the room accommodated a black machine. These metal contrivances, which seemed fitted
to the wall, were hardly distinguishable.
