aided him in his attacks upon Professor Whitburn and Commander Dadren. When he chose
to open a drive on Senator Releston, new minions would be on hand to aid him. The fact that
Harry Vincent had discovered no spy at Releston's was not surprising to The Shadow.
Hildrow's men were capable hands when it came to covering up their work.
The Shadow suspected a traitor at Releston's. Stollart, Smedley or Williston—any one of the
three might be the man. It was also possible that some regular visitor—Harry had listed
more than a dozen of the senator's friends—could be the agent used by Hildrow.
But nothing could be gained by uncovering the traitor. The Shadow had learned conclusively
that Hildrow kept his real identity from the men who worked for him. The unmasking of a new
spy would lead to a blind ending.
The Shadow was playing a waiting game. That was why he liked Harry Vincent's news. If
Senator Releston raised a hue and cry, Hildrow's task of gaining the plans would be
toughened. The Shadow knew that Hildrow—the unknown—was probably receiving reports
that matched those sent by Harry Vincent.
IN all his surmises, The Shadow was correct. On this very afternoon, Eric Hildrow, guised as
himself, was standing by the window of a living room apartment. He, too, was staring out
over the city of Washington.
A knock sounded at the door. Hildrow answered it to admit Marling. His chunky aid was
glum. He passed a letter to his chief.
'From Stollart,' informed Marling. 'Addressed to J. T. Ushwell, general delivery window at
the Arlington post office -'
'I can read the address,' interposed Hildrow, testily. 'You've read the letter; give me your
opinion while I'm reading it.'
'The senator's going to spread the news,' declared Marling. 'That's enough trouble, isn't it?
Meanwhile, Marquette and Vincent are hanging about. There's no chance to crack that vault.
If Stollart could only get the combination -'
'He never will,' put in Hildrow. 'Even if he did, a raid on the Hotel Barlingham would be a
mistake. Gunmen would be good hands to aid a getaway -'
'Well, if Stollart opened the vault, he'd be ready for a getaway.'
'He would be stopped before he started. No, Marling, I have been waiting solely for another
purpose.'
'To trick The Shadow?'
'Yes. He is our most powerful enemy.'
There was a short pause. While Hildrow speculated, Marling grunted.
'Maybe The Shadow's still on Death Island,' he declared. 'There's been no sign of
Whitburn; and you locked The Shadow in with him. Probably they're both dead -'
'Don't be a fool!' snarled Hildrow, turning his pasty face toward Marling. 'Do you think that
was Bragg that shot up the mob in the Hotel Halcyon? What about the fellow who dropped in
on the Northern Express? He got Wenshell and Hasker, didn't he?'
'Yes. It looked very much like The Shadow -'
'It was The Shadow! He's here in Washington. He knows that I've got to make another
move. I've been outwaiting him, that's all. But only because I did not want to press matters.
Never be too quick with any scheme, Marling, no matter how effective it may seem.
Sometimes, a change of the wind may bring a new idea.'
'Well, the wind's changed, chief.'
'Hardly. This action of Releston's was to be expected. It merely means that I must utilize the
plan that I have been holding for such an emergency.'
'You're going to Releston's yourself?'
Hildrow chuckled.
'I have been there, Marling,' he declared, 'as myself. Simply to talk about international trade
relations. To emphasize the personality of Eric Hildrow. I am going to pay further visits to our
friend the senator.
'But when I go to get the plans, it will be in another guise. One that Releston—or any one
else—will never suspect. That, however, will come later, Marling. The immediate job is to
forestall the senator's present intention. He must be weaned from his idea of starting a
search for Commander Dadren.'
'How can you stop him from doing that?' inquired Marling.
'Through Dadren,' chuckled Hildrow. 'Marling, bring me that set of diagram tracings.'
'The photostatic copies that you made?'
'No. The originals. I am going out with them. Remain here until I return.'
WHILE Marling was obtaining the plans, Hildrow donned the disguise that he used on the
day of Dadren's capture. The black beard obscured his pallid features when he strolled from
the little apartment.
Ten minutes later, Hildrow walked into a drug store. He made a telephone call from a booth;
then left and strolled in the direction of the Mall. Reaching Pennsylvania Avenue, he hailed a
taxi and ordered the driver to take him to an address on the Northwest outskirts of the
capital.
The cabby took Hildrow for some foreign diplomat. Reaching the Naval Observatory, he
threaded his way along Wisconsin Avenue, then turned to another street, still wondering
from what embassy his passenger had come.
Hildrow left the cab at the street corner that he had designated. He showed no haste as he
strolled along for a space of about fifteen minutes. At last he reached a small vacant lot that
automobiles used as a free parking space. Spying a dull green coupe, he approached and
opened the door.
A rough-faced fellow was behind the wheel. The man nodded when he saw Hildrow's black
beard. A member of Korsch's crew, the waiting driver had recognized the disguise that the
plotter was wearing.
Hildrow gave no order. He simply took his seat in the coupe and sat silent while the driver
started the car.
The fellow was picking a route that avoided traveled highways. Most of the roads that he
chose were well-paved, but only for a short stretch did he follow a course where traffic
thickened. That was along a highway that led by the bank of the Potomac. Shortly afterward,
the driver veered off to the right.
Several miles further on, the coupe turned southward, heading directly toward the river.
Coming through a woods, the driver chose a road where jagged rocks jutted up from muddy
ruts. Then came a bend of the river. They had reached an isolated spot above the Great
Falls of the Potomac.
The river was wide at this point. The coupe had arrived close to the lower end of a
thick-treed island that caused the spreading of the stream. Picking a grassy road that was
scarcely more than wheel tracks, the driver swung the coupe toward the river bank. There a
short bridge led over to the island.
Lost in the bend of the river, spanning the narrowest section of the stream, this bridge
looked frail and forgotten. No chance motorist would have attempted to test the wavering
structure. It took sharp eyes to see that the underpinning had been reinforced with new
beams that made passage possible.
Rolling across the bridge, the coupe came almost to a stop as it reached the end. It jolted
downward. Then it cut through a roadless clearing and stopped beneath a clump of trees.
