Returning to his room, Harry closed the door. He left the light on while he locked the big
envelope in the table drawer. Then, as an afterthought, he opened the door and began to go
over expense sheets, at the table, where men in the hall could see him.
HALF an hour passed. The men turned off the radio and headed for their rooms. Ten
minutes after all were gone. Harry closed the door and extinguished the light. He was sure
that no one suspected the important part that Commander Dadren had given him.
The Shadow's scheme had worked. Harry Vincent had done well in the emergency. He had
managed to obey The Shadow's order. He had prevented the plane trip with the plans. Yet
Harry was not quite sure that he had fulfilled the complete injunction.
Commander Dadren was flying to Washington, as scheduled. That trip had not been
prevented. Nor could it be. Further argument with the stern commander might cause trouble.
Yet Harry felt that he had accomplished the important part of The Shadow's order. The
plans, at least, were not going with Dadren.
The Shadow relied upon his agents to use their own judgment in a pinch. Harry Vincent had
played his hand with success. He had done the most within his power. To-morrow, a report
to The Shadow. Then to Washington with the plans that Dadren had given him.
CHAPTER IX. THE SHADOW STRIKES
ONE hour after dawn, Harry Vincent was awakened by a knock at the door of his room. He
answered the call, to find Wilkins and Holgate awaiting him.
'The skipper's ready to take off,' informed Wilkins. 'Wants you down at the cove, Vincent.
Says to bring along those expense sheets and whatever else you have.'
With the order delivered, Wilkins and Holgate departed. Harry dressed hurriedly. He
unlocked the drawer of the desk and removed the envelope that contained the plans. He put
it in a briefcase along with other papers. Then he hurried from the big blockhouse.
Commander Dadren's plane was drawn up beside the boat house landing. An amphibian
ship, it was equipped to take off from water or ground. This type of plane was suited to
Dadren's needs, for the cove offered the only landing spot in the vicinity. Traveling to
Washington, Dadren would be flying over land; hence he could use any airport that he might
require.
The commander was standing on the planking by the boat house. Although attired in civilian
garb, he had the bearing of a naval officer. Harry, approaching, easily distinguished the
skipper from the rest of the crew.
Arriving, Harry noted Hasker in the amphibian. The mechanic was a heavy-set, rough-faced
fellow who had accompanied Dadren on other flights. He seemed impatient to start the trip.
Dadren, too, appeared anxious to be off. He beckoned Harry to hurry up. When Harry
reached his side, Dadren spoke in a querulous, testy tone that all could hear.
'What kept you, Vincent?' he demanded. 'I told you to be up at dawn. I wanted to see those
expense sheets.'
'I have them here, sir,' apologized Harry, exhibiting the briefcase. 'I have corrected the
expense errors; and I have arranged the letters for the files.'
'I don't have time to go over them now,' returned Dadren. 'Half an hour would have sufficed.
You have been neglectful, Vincent. You have caused me a great deal of trouble.'
'Sorry, sir.'
'That doesn't help. However, I shall give you another chance. Get busy this morning.
Complete your work here. Then bring all your papers to Washington.'
'By train, sir?'
'Yes. Wilkins will drive you into town in time to catch the afternoon express. I shall need a
secretary after I reach Washington. Meet me to-morrow, at my hotel.'
Dadren stepped to a wing of the ship. He drew a small portfolio from beneath his arm and
stowed it in the pilot's seat. The commander took the controls, with Hasker perched in the
open seat behind him.
A few minutes later, the propeller of the amphibian was whirling. The plane started across
the blue-watered cove, heading in the direction of the inlet. It gathered speed; its glistening
wings rose above the water. Rising, the plane headed seaward, then banked and swung
along the coast. Commander Dadren had begun his flight to Washington.
HARRY VINCENT left the boat house while the other men were standing about. Returning to
headquarters, he entered the empty building and made directly for the telephone. He put in a
call to the hotel that was located five miles from Cedar Cove.
Over the wire, Harry Vincent talked briefly with a man named Cliff Marsland. In guarded
tones, Harry indicated what had happened at Cedar Cove. No one listening could have
caught the gist of his remarks. For Harry was talking to another agent of The Shadow.
Cliff, waiting near Cedar Cove, would put in a long-distance call to Burbank. Unless
instructions came back to the contrary, Harry Vincent would follow Commander Dadren's
order. He would leave for Washington, taking along the set of plans that the skipper had
given him.
Harry was sure that no danger remained at Cedar Cove. Last night's episode had been of
his own doing. As yet, there was no indication that a spy actually was in camp. Harry had
acted only at The Shadow's bidding; and even now, Harry wondered what had inspired The
Shadow to send his emergency order.
If outside persons were trying to learn the secret of Commander Dadren's model submarine,
they could learn nothing at Cedar Cove. Dadren was canny; he had tested different devices
at various times. The submarine, now beneath the boat house, was incomplete. An
inspection of it would reveal nothing to spies.
Only the plans were complete. They held the secret of an invention that was apparently
destined to revolutionize naval warfare.
Entering his own room, Harry Vincent stowed his precious briefcase in the closet. He locked
the door; then sat down at the table and began to work on detailed report sheets. He was
determined that no one would learn that the plans were in his possession.
COMMANDER DADREN'S amphibian was a slow ship. Its heavy landing equipment
handicapped it. That was why Dadren had taken off so shortly after dawn. He wanted to
arrive in Washington before noon, and he needed an early start to accomplish his desire.
Plodding through a head wind, the cumbersome plane jounced north across the Carolina
coastal region. Dadren was a stolid pilot; Hasker, behind him, seemed accustomed the
monotony of the journey. As slow hours moved by, the ship reached Virginia and continued
onward. Washington was not far away.
All the while, the commander had his portfolio close beside him. It was wedged between his
body and the side of the pilot's seat. With his goal almost reached, Dadren smiled beneath
the goggles that he had donned. He felt sure that Harry Vincent had been
over-apprehensive, so far as danger was concerned.
Then came a break in the monotony. Dadren was flying at an altitude of five thousand feet.
Nearly a mile below, lay a wooded acreage; beyond it, the spread-out buildings of a small
town. The chart showed the place to be the village of Tarksburg.
Between the woods and the town was an open stretch that looked like a flying field. Two
biplanes were in sight; as Dadren passed above, one of the ships took off. It ascended with
surprising speed. Watching the plane, Dadren was sure that a stunt flier was at the controls.
For a dozen miles, the commander kept his amphibian ahead of the biplane. He had almost
forgotten the stunt flier when he suddenly became aware of the fact that the ship was above
