'You are wondering,' stated Lawsham, seriously, 'if I told Miss Delton all the facts that I know. I did so, Mr. Vincent; and yet -'
He stopped, stroked his chin; then, abruptly:
'Wait here a few minutes, Mr. Vincent.'
Harry heard the professor go out through the hallway, down the stairs to the basement. It was very still, oppressive, in that little parlor. The curtains seemed like a shroud, that might rip aside at any moment, to bring danger.
For, as Harry reasoned it, crooks would be quite as interested in the affairs of Professor Lawsham as they were in those of Dick Remingwood and Arlene Delton.
As he waited, Harry sensed a sound. It was like a low, sibilant hiss carrying from the dim hall beyond the curtains. He pictured it as coming from the stairs to the second floor. Harry smiled. He felt the watchful presence of The Shadow.
Professor Lawsham returned bringing a small clutter of papers. They were letters, memo slips, and other items, that the professor had found in a desk downstairs. But as he and Harry searched through them, they found nothing that pertained to Dick Remingwood.
As he gathered up the papers, Lawsham found a yellow slip; he stared at it, then fished around and produced another that resembled it.
'These are odd,' he remarked. 'Memos that my assistants left for me. Regarding long-distance calls from Hadley, New Jersey.'
Vincent took the slips. They had been written in different hands, but both held the same notation.
'I remember those calls,' nodded Lawsham. 'They came on successive nights. Someone calling from Hadley; but both times, they were cut off. Where is the town of Hadley, Mr. Vincent?'
Harry wasn't sure. He had heard of the place; that was all. But the matter interested him.
'Those calls might have been from Remingwood,' Harry suggested. 'Do you agree, professor?'
'I do,' replied Lawsham. 'Why not go there, Mr. Vincent?'
Harry considered. He said that he ought to tell his chief about the matter, but the office was closed. As Harry put it, he should ordinarily postpone the investigation until the next day.
'But this is an extraordinary case,' reminded Lawsham. 'No time should be lost. Do not worry about expenses, Mr. Vincent. I shall guarantee payment for your services.'
'All right,' agreed Harry. 'But if I do find Remingwood, what then?'
'I understand,' returned Lawsham. 'You do not know him; therefore, you would not recognize him.'
That wasn't the thought that Harry had in mind, but it was certainly an obstacle in itself. Harry stressed that point. The professor had a solution.
'Take Arlene with you,' advised Lawsham. 'I know she will be glad to go. She will know Dick, if you find him.'
THE plan had logic. Harry agreed to it, provided that Arlene wanted it. Professor Lawsham said that he would talk to the girl, when she telephoned. He called a servant, sent the batch of papers downstairs.
Hardly had Lawsham and Harry resumed their conversation, before a telephone bell jangled.
The telephone was in the hall. Lawsham answered the call; it was Arlene's. Harry overheard the professor suggesting the trip to Hadley. Finally, Lawsham arrived, smiling, in the doorway.
'Arlene agrees,' he declared. 'She wants to talk to you, Mr. Vincent; to tell you where to meet her. She wouldn't tell me where she was' - Lawsham's expression had sobered - 'and I consider that quite wise.
'Arlene fears that men might even attack here, to make me tell where she can be found. Therefore, she does not want to burden me with dangerous information. I have assured her, however, that I am quite safe. My servants are good guards.'
So confident was Lawsham, when he made the final statement, that his face showed a shrewd gloat. He was thinking of what might happen to anyone who tried to thwart his own endeavors. He seemed to look forward to such attempts with a satisfaction that bordered upon triumph. He revealed himself as one whose own schemes could offer real opposition to any one who opposed him.
His hands were twitching, their long fingers acting as though they were breaking something between them.
Certainly, Professor Lawsham, once aroused to action, could become a most dangerous foe.
Harry, meanwhile, was finishing a short conversation with Arlene. Lawsham's manner had calmed when Harry turned about.
'We're going to Hadley,' said Harry, on parting, 'and we'll make the trip in a hurry. If mobsters do get wind of it, we'll be back here before they can move.'
DARKNESS was thicker when Harry stepped from the old house. This time, he was positive that watchers were about. He felt confident, however, that he was also under the guarding eye of The Shadow. Harry was cool as he strolled to the corner.
Taking a cab, he rode to a garage three blocks away. Stepping into a sedan that was parked there, he consulted a road map, then drove to a small West Side apartment house. Arlene joined him there. They drove north along Broadway, toward the George Washington bridge.
Harry explained that the town of Hadley was some twenty miles northwest of Manhattan, in the New Jersey foothills. A good road led there, but traffic would probably be light.
'If anyone is trailing, us,' declared Harry, soberly, 'that highway will be the first place we'll know it.'
They crossed the big bridge, traveled along the turnpike, then veered to the road that Harry had mentioned. Arlene had not forgotten the statement regarding possible followers. As they sped along a straight stretch, she looked back through the rear window.
Far behind them, Arlene saw dim lights round a turn. From their motion, she could guess that another car was picking up speed. Tensely, Arlene gripped Harry's arm, for she was positive that they were being trailed. Realizing that Harry would have to handle the car, Arlene felt suddenly helpless. She knew that she could not battle with an overtaking outfit of mobsters.
Then, from the blackness of the rear seat, came the token that responded to Arlene's very thoughts. It was a whisper, low, indefinable, but it carried a tone of sinister mirth.
Arlene's fears vanished in that instant. She and Harry were not alone in the speeding sedan. With them was a fighter whose prowess could vanquish any marauding crew.
The Shadow!
CHAPTER XIII. THE HOUSE IN THE HILLS
THE trailing car made no effort to overtake the sedan, during that ride to Hadley. Harry was showing plenty of speed, and the sedan was powerful. Perhaps the followers were finding themselves lucky in merely keeping on the trail.
In fact, there were times when Arlene thought that they had shaken their pursuers; but always, that other car bobbed into sight again, somewhere far behind.
Harry was noting the speedometer. They were due at Hadley; but there was no sign of a town, until he slowed to cross a single-track railway line. Just past a deserted station, they took a turn and came upon a few dingy buildings spaced along a road.
One was an old post office, another a weather-beaten store, both closed for the night. There was a building that looked like a grange hall, its windows black and silent. Then one hanging light announced a filling station. Harry pulled up beside a building that was scarcely more than a shack.
A man in greasy overalls came out, nonchalantly picked up a gas hose. Harry leaned from the window and called to him.
'Sorry,' he said, 'but the tank's nearly full. We're looking for a place somewhere around here. A friend of ours is staying there.'
The service-station man repressed a grin.
'He might be up at Doc Broyce's place,' he said. 'What kind of a fellow is this friend of yours? Sort of nervous?'
