Three disguises; beneath them, a face of which The Shadow had no description. In the
battle aboard the Northern Express, tools of the master plotter had also been effectively
disguised.
Though Hildrow's various make-ups may have been hastily donned, there was no question
but that the rogue was a master in the art of disguise. Therein lay his strongest forte. It was
the weapon upon which he trusted in all his dealings.
The Shadow laughed as his hand wrote prophetic words. The inscription faded. Then an
object came into the light and rested there. It was a photograph of Commander Joseph
Dadren; one that Harry Vincent had sent to The Shadow weeks ago.
KEEN eyes studied the portrait. Their glare seemed to burn through the picture, as if
seeking the face of the villain who was using Dadren in order to accomplish a fell purpose.
Softly, The Shadow laughed.
He had noted every feature of Dadren's face. He would not forget the details. He pressed
the photograph to one side. Then he made a last notation:
Wednesday. Two o'clock.
The time that Harry Vincent was scheduled to go to the Navy Department. The beginning of
a short period when Harry, who knew Dadren well, would be absent from Senator
Releston's.
As the writing faded, The Shadow inscribed two new words, both of which related to that
hour on the coming Wednesday:
Before. After.
A whispered laugh crept through the room as The Shadow clicked the light switch. A form
moved softly toward the window and drew aside the curtain. Keen eyes gazed off toward the
myriad lights that formed a resplendent glow about the capital city.
Gazing upon the scene, The Shadow laughed again. The echoes of his low, sinister tone
seemed to repeat the words that he had written.
'Wednesday—two o'clock—before—after -'
There lay the crux of coming combat. There was The Shadow's plan to offset the cunning of
the unknown plotter, Eric Hildrow. Both would move. One would win. The Shadow's laugh
betokened confidence.
Hildrow's hidden purpose; his coming thrust to be delivered at a timely hour—these were
factors that others had failed to see. The depth of Hildrow's strategy had baffled Dadren,
Releston and Marquette.
Harry Vincent had not seen the game. The Shadow, alone, had analyzed it. Moreover, he
had picked the one way by which Hildrow's methods could be most effectively thwarted.
What Hildrow planned; the measures that could beat him— these were the thoughts that
sprang in detail through the brain of that being beside the window.
New crime would strike in Washington, that city that sparkled beyond The Shadow's
window. Theft of mighty consequence; murder of a man who had striven to aid his
country—these were the crimes that must be beaten.
Only The Shadow knew.
CHAPTER XVIII. WEDNESDAY BEFORE TWO
WEDNESDAY afternoon found Harry Vincent in the office of Senator Releston's apartment.
Vic Marquette was there; so was Stollart. Only Senator Releston was absent.
Morning hours had drifted by. No word had come from Commander Dadren. These waiting
men had discussed the matter; both Harry and Stollart had agreed with Vic Marquette when
the Secret Service operative had proclaimed that the commander would not show up before
to-morrow morning.
Two o'clock was nearing. Harry was due to leave shortly for the Navy Department. The
footsteps from the hallway broke the monotony. The three men turned, to see Senator
Releston enter.
Releston's quizzical look was answered by a shake of Vic Marquette's head.
'No word from Commander Dadren,' mused the senator, seating himself at the desk. 'I am
inclined, Marquette, to believe that we are the victims of a hoax. We may have made a
grave mistake by giving our acquiescence to that note from Dadren.'
'Don't make any change until to-morrow noon,' put in Vic. 'We'd better play the game the
way we started it, senator.'
'Certainly,' agreed Releston. 'Nevertheless, I -'
He paused. Smedley had entered to announce that a caller was in the waiting room. He
handed a card to the senator. Releston came up from his chair and made a gesture with
both hands. Smedley, understanding, hurried out to call the visitor.
'Is it Dadren?' demanded Vic.
Releston nodded. He was too excited to speak. Then Harry Vincent, looking toward the door
saw Commander Dadren enter.
SENATOR RELESTON recognized the visitor's face. He came around the desk to shake
hands with the rugged-faced commander.
A smile appeared upon Dadren's lips as the freed prisoner spied a box of cigars upon the
senator's desk. Without a word, he released his hand from Releston's and helped himself to
a perfecto. He lighted the cigar, delivered a grunt of satisfaction and seated himself in a
chair. Puffing contentedly, he began to speak.
'I can talk now,' declared Dadren. 'I haven't had a smoke for a week. Those rascals left me
without a cent in my pockets, otherwise I would have stopped at a cigar store on my way
here.'
'Where were you held prisoner?' questioned Releston.
'I don't know,' replied Dadren. 'Today, I was blindfolded and placed in an automobile. The
car seemed to drive in circles. Men on both sides of me— ruffians with revolvers.
'They brought me into Washington. I guessed, from the sound of traffic, that we were in the
city. Then they shoved me from the car. I ripped away the blindfold. I was in an alleyway a
block below this hotel.'
'What kind of a place did they have you in?' inquired Vic Marquette.
Dadren stared suspiciously at the Secret Service operative. Releston introduced Vic. Then
Dadren spied Harry Vincent and came to his feet to shake hands with his secretary. After
that, he remembered Vic's question.
'We can talk about that later,' declared the commander. 'Another matter is more important.
Tell me, senator, are the plans safe? The ones that Vincent brought?'
'They are here in my vault,' declared Releston.
'Let me see them,' suggested Dadren.
Releston waved his hand toward the door. While Dadren looked puzzled, Harry explained
that the senator allowed no one in the office while he turned the combination of the vault.
Harry led the way into the front living room. Marquette and Stollart followed. Dadren sank
comfortably in a chair and puffed deeply at his cigar.
Soon Senator Releston joined them. He gave the diagrammed sheets to Dadren. The
commander studied them and nodded in satisfaction.
'All is well,' he declared.
'You have the tracings?' questioned Releston.
'No,' answered Dadren. 'I destroyed them.'
'What! You mean -'
