Strampf began to pass the time by quizzing the other agents. He wanted facts regarding The Shadow's past; and Strampf showed that he was very well informed on a great many of The Shadow's methods.
Fortunately, the agents were able to parry his questions. They, themselves, knew but little regarding The Shadow, other than the facts that Strampf mentioned. Since Strampf had those details, the prisoners admitted that they were correct. Beyond that, they furnished nothing of importance.
WORKING alone on the black-ray machine, Burbank had his back to the living room. He could hear Strampf's rasped questions; and Burbank sensed that they had taken an insidious tone. If the prisoners continued to show themselves of no value it would not be long before Strampf recommended that they be slaughtered.
Burbank wanted to stall with the intricate machine; but he began to think of another plan. Perhaps if he got it working, the prisoners would have a better chance. Burbank hated to see the apparatus get into criminal hands; but he felt sure that he could fix it so it would keep going out of order.
So he calmly hooked up wires and adjusted portions of mechanism, until he struck two features that puzzled him.
Certain essential parts were missing, yet they had all been there when the machine was stowed away, for Burbank himself had dismantled it. The Shadow would have had no cause to remove them; for he had put the packed device in an obscure storehouse, where no one would have occasion to meddle.
Standing back to study the machine, Burbank made his second discovery. The thick base of the machine was equipped with two knobs, ready for electric wires. Those posts did not belong there. Only The Shadow could have placed them.
Burbank instantly saw the reason. The base was hollow. It could contain compact equipment for sending a radio beam.
Burbank connected the posts. With that move, he put the beam in action. After a few minutes, he did more.
Burbank fingered the wire; every time he loosened it he interrupted the beam. Burbank made those spaces into dots and dashes of a special code. He was sending a message to the persons who handled the direction- finders.
Burbank detailed the interior arrangements at this prison. He added snatches of conversation that he heard from the other room. Most important, was an ultimatum that Strampf delivered. The lean man spoke it to the other prisoners.
'You don't know much,' sneered Strampf. 'Maybe there is a way to jog your memories. I'll give you until tomorrow night at nine. If you won't talk by that time, you will be dead! Like The Shadow!'
Ace Gandley, listening, showed a leer of anticipation. The job would be one for his machine-gunners. He could picture the prisoners lined up against the wall, withering under the rattling fire. After that, a blast would wreck this house. Fresh corpses would be buried like The Shadow's.
Toying with the wire, Burbank transcribed the news. He set nine o'clock as the absolute dead line.
Twenty-one hours for The Shadow's aids to live. That was all.
Burbank was completing the message when Strampf came into the little room. Coolly Burbank kept up his tactics with the wire under the glaring investigator's very eyes.
BURBANK had chosen the best policy. Any quick move would have aroused Strampf's suspicion. The very carefulness of Burbank's methodical process deceived Strampf.
Burbank finished the message, gave the wire a few careful adjustments to announce that he was signing off. Then loosening the wire entirely, he arose and spoke to Strampf.
'Some parts are missing,' declared Burbank. 'The machine won't work without them.'
'You're stalling like the others,' returned Strampf. 'I see the game! You hid some of the parts!'
Burbank denied it. Angrily Strampf called in Ace and another guard. He told the pair to frisk Burbank and search the room. They did. They pummeled through the mattresses of the two-decker bed that belonged to Burbank and Mann. They found nothing.
Strampf glared at Burbank who shrugged his shoulders. Pointing a bony finger at the ray machine, Strampf ordered:
'Fix it!'
'I can't!' Burbank's tone was frank. 'I need those parts. Since you haven't found them, I can prove what I say. Look!'
Burbank took paper and pencil. He drew a complicated diagram for Strampf's benefit. Burbank marked two portions of the penciled book-up.
'If I had those,' he insisted, 'the machine would work. Here! I'll give you the exact details and dimensions. Get them made up at a good machine shop. I'll do the rest.'
Strampf took the paper, with the snapped promise:
'You'll have those parts tomorrow!'
Burbank knew that Strampf's statement was a wide one. It would be a few days before the special parts could be shaped. That would mean a respite for Burbank; but not for the other agents.
Still, Burbank was confident that it would not matter. He was sure that the prisoners could expect The Shadow before nine tomorrow night.
SOON afterward, a telephone jangled in an empty apartment close to The Shadow's temporary headquarters. In his cramped abode, The Shadow heard the tingle. That unanswered call was the signal that he awaited.
Like a human wraith, The Shadow glided from his hiding place.
He paused outside the building to look up to the windows of the apartment that the Melrues occupied.
All was well there. Skirting the apartment house, The Shadow made sure that no prowlers were about.
Choosing a circuitous course that avoided well-lighted streets, The Shadow arrived at Farrow's.
He found Farrow with a map spread on the table. It showed Manhattan Island in large scale. Farrow had marked two spots: his own apartment and the office where Doctor Sayre was located. From each he had drawn a straight line. The two met near the East River.
Farrow ran his finger along his own line; then pointed to the other.
'Sayre called,' reported Farrow. 'He gave me his line from the direction-finder. The common point must be midway in the East Side block. There was something else - a message in Burbank's usual code. I picked up most of it; Sayre supplied the rest in dots and dashes, though he did not know their translation.'
With that Farrow passed The Shadow a decoded copy of Burbank's message. The Shadow read the details. In whispered tone, he told Farrow to call Sayre and arrange shifts so that one would always be on duty. Burbank might find later opportunity to send more information.
The Shadow was gone when Farrow had finished his telephone call to Sayre. Amid the blanket of the outside night, The Shadow was retracing his route to his headquarters.
Strampf's feelers were about. Those ever-present finger men were continuing their fruitless search for the Melrues. One glimpse of The Shadow would have given any of those spies important news for Strampf.
None gained that glimpse. The course that The Shadow took was one of utter invisibility.
The Shadow had learned crime's ultimatum. Tomorrow would end his waiting game. Before nine tomorrow night, the cloaked foe of crime would make his reappearance from the dead. Then would begin the swift, hard thrusts with which The Shadow hoped to vanquish evil.
Those future moves would be bold and dangerous. Deep plans were needed to make them effective.
One false step could bring death to the captured agents, disaster to the Melrues, doom to The Shadow himself.
Tomorrow was a balance scale, gripped in the hand of Fate. Which way the weight would swing was a matter that no one could predict with certainty.
No one, not even The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVIII. FRANCINE EXPLAINS
SHORTLY after dawn, George Melrue awoke with a headache. Despite promises he had made to Francine, George was still drinking rather heavily, on the excuse that it was the only thing he could do to pass the time quickly in this isolated apartment.
