THE man designated as Agent K received the bomb. Prokop explained the mechanism, in a
matter-of-fact manner, as though taking it for granted that the agent understood.
Then he let the man join the others, while he proceeded with another announcement.
'A great victory has been won for our cause,' he said. 'I cannot tell you its exact nature; but among us
are those who worked long. They are here to-night, after a long absence.
'I welcome them, in the name of the cause. Before this week is ended, our leaders in Russia will have
plans that will enable them to defeat their enemies in aerial warfare.'
This news was received with acclamation, whispered remarks expressing the sentiments of the group.
Then Prokop spoke his final words.
'Remember, Agent K,' he said, singling out that individual. 'You must not fail. Should you fail, others will
carry out your work. If you fear that you may fail, say so now.
'You are the one that I have chosen. I rely on you to destroy the enemies to the cause which you
represent.
'Remember: Destroy, even though it may mean your own life. We are willing to die for our cause.'
'We are willing to die,' responded the members of the group.
The man who held the bomb stood motionless. The others crowded about him for a few minutes, while
they looked at the piece of mechanism in his hands.
A brain was working within the black hood which Ivan Shiskin wore. It was groping for the truth, and its
efforts were only partly successful.
It had taken Ivan a while to realize that he was in the midst of Red Agents. When he had fully understood
that fact, he had been suddenly summoned, and the bomb had been placed in his possession.
This was where his master came, when he left his home disguised as Fritz Bloch! For months, Ivan had
aided Prince Zuvor to disguise himself.
He had wondered why his master had been able to leave the house in safety under that disguise, while the
house was being so closely watched.
It never occurred to his loyal mind that Prince Zuvor could be one of these. He was sure that he
understood the exact circumstances. His master had been spying on these Reds, through clever use of the
disguise.
He had told them that he was a servant of the Russian prince. They had believed him.
Ivan was filled with admiration for his master.
But why had he been sent to-night? Prince Zuvor could have come himself. What were the last words
that the prince had told him?
'Go, in the name of the czar!'
That sentence kept repeating itself over and over in his mind; then it became identified with a statement
made by the leader of this gang.
'We are willing to die for our cause.'
HIS cause was greater than theirs! To Ivan, the name of the czar meant more than life. He began to
believe that Prince Zuvor had sent him here for a great purpose.
His master had been different to-night. He had himself enabled Ivan to arrange his disguise. Princely
hands had formed the features of the mythical Fritz Bloch upon the countenance of a Russian servant.
In all his thoughts, Ivan exaggerated.
He did not know that it was not his master who had sent him here, but another, a pretended Prince
Zuvor.
He did not realize that the purpose of his mission was simply to bring back the bomb, that it might be
obtained as evidence against the Reds.
All that his brain could grasp was that these men had threatened the death of Prince Zuvor; that he had
been delegated to that task; that if he failed, others would assume the duty.
His loyalty to Prince Zuvor; his mission in the name of the czar. These beliefs dominated Ivan's mind.
He suddenly realized that he was standing alone; that the members of the group had drawn apart. The
meeting would soon be over.
It was then that Ivan Shiskin sprang to mental action. Slowly and deliberately, he turned toward the wall,
and adjusted the dial on the bomb.
He put the mechanism in motion. He glanced up, and noted that the leader was turning to leave the room.
Ivan made one more adjustment of the dial, and with a cry of triumph he flung the bomb toward the door.
The heavy object struck the floor. The bomb exploded instantly. The walls shook, and the house
collapsed. The cellar was filled with a mass of smoke. All who stood there were buried in the debris.
Not one of the Red agents survived the horrible catastrophe. They died, still clad in the robes that
concealed their identities. Most of them were killed instantly.
Ivan Shiskin had gone—gone in the service of the czar! He had died to save his master, Prince Zuvor, in
whom he believed, and to whom he was loyal. He was willing to die for his cause, and in dying, he
brought his enemies to their doom.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE SILVER COMET
VIC MARQUETTE was thinking—thinking in the silence of his hotel room— thinking in total darkness.
That darkness had existed ever since his visitor had arrived.
Marquette had left the door ajar; a hand had come through the opening, and had turned off the light.
Then an invisible form had entered, and had seated itself in a chair. A voice had spoken from the
blackness—a voice that was no louder than a whisper. For half an hour it had held Vic Marquette
spellbound.
For the secret-service man had known the identity of his unknown visitor. That personage had been The
Shadow; and he had calmly proposed a scheme that had proven bewildering.
The Shadow had explained facts to Vic Marquette—terse, pointed facts; and when he had finished
speaking, he had left but one solution - a single plan of action, to which Marquette could do nothing other
than agree.
Yet it was fully fifteen minutes after his visitor had gone when Marquette aroused himself to action.
The Shadow's plan was a remarkable one—it depended upon chance to a great degree. Yet Marquette
had faith in The Shadow. He knew that the man performed seeming miracles.
The plan which he had proposed demanded courage and ability; one important detail depended upon
Marquette. Yet Marquette was to assume no risk whatever.
The secret-service man turned on the light. He picked up his hat, and left the room. He went to the street
and called for a cab. He gave the driver the name of a hotel on Sixty-second Street.
Reaching his destination, Marquette told the man at the desk that he wished to speak to Lieutenant
Branson.
The room clerk shook his head.
'Orders not to disturb,' he said. 'He is asleep.'
'I must see him,' replied Marquette firmly.
