suspected that Pierre Armagnac had friends here.
The Frenchman's visit had been accepted by Partridge as a bluff; for he had doubted the statements which Armagnac had made concerning operations in foreign countries. Now, it appeared that others were associated with Armagnac's purpose; and they were still free to continue whatever work they contemplated.
For the first time, Lucien Partridge was apprehensive for his gold. He had detected Armagnac's interest in where the gold was kept; in fact, Partridge had led Armagnac to that spot so that he might study the Frenchman's reaction. But he had been fooled when he had believed that Armagnac had come here alone.
Partridge's thoughts turned to Lamont Cranston. He doubted that Cranston could be connected with Armagnac. Of one thing Partridge felt certain: that he had managed to keep his affairs segregated. No, Cranston was a menace from another quarter.
What of this man—Marquette? Unquestionably, he was a secret-service agent—the same as Fitzroy, who had come here to make cautious inquiries, not suspecting that Partridge was the brain behind a world-wide plot. Until now, Partridge had felt security in his ability to pass himself as a friendly, harmless old man.
A glance at Marquette convinced him that the ruse would still work so far as this one individual was concerned.
Armagnac, of course, could not have been deceived; but now Armagnac was dead—one less enemy with whom to contend. Cranston—there was no question about him. So long as he lived, Cranston would be a menace.
But Partridge was not dealing with Cranston at present. Marquette was the danger of the moment.
The secret-service man was waiting for Partridge to speak. So far, Partridge had evidenced no suspicion.
Hesitation would produce suspicion.
Partridge realized that as long as his enemies came one by one, they were playing into his hands.
Marquette, though unsuspicious, was an enemy; for he was seeking to trace the cause that had brought death to Jerry Fitzroy.
Marquette must be lulled. That was Partridge's dominating thought. Quickly the old man shifted other matters from his mind. He returned to the primitive plan that he had found so effective in the past.
Marquette knew too much. It would be best to dispose of him before he learned more.
In conformity to his usual practice, Partridge began to prepare his victim for the slaughter. He adopted a pose that indicated deep concern. When he spoke, he lowered his crackly voice as though speaking in the strictest confidence.
'Danger has always threatened me,' he said. 'That is because men have sought to steal the products of my inventive mind. Sometimes plots have been made against my life. This house of mine, with its great fence about it —this is no eccentric idea. It is my protection against those whom I know to be dangerous.'
Vic Marquette listened intently. The old man's speech seemed truthful. Marquette knew that there were men across the river who were dangerous and inimical to Lucien Partridge.
He made a mental comparison between his adventure there and his reception here. On the face of it, Lucien Partridge appeared to be a persecuted man, apprehensive of the designs of men who were unquestionably villains.
'I am being preyed upon'—Partridge's words were vague and rambling—'by persons whom I have never seen; by men whose identities I do not know. Only some good fortune has kept me from disaster.'
As the old man talked on in the same vein, Vic wondered if The Shadow might be the one responsible for the good fortune that had saved Lucien Partridge from harm. In his wheedling speech, the old man had luckily struck upon a trend of thought that was producing a strong effect upon Marquette.
'If I were sure'—Partridge's words were tinged with artfully feigned doubt—'that you were a friend, I would tell you of much that I have suffered. I must be cautious in what I say, for my enemies will stop at nothing.
'Would it be possible for me to meet you somewhere other than here? Some place where I am not afraid of spies—where I am not worried about my inventions?'
'Where would you suggest?'
'I can come to New York. All would be safe here, for I can trust the men who work for me. But it would not be wise for us to travel there together. Suppose'—the old man was thoughtful as he proposed the plan—'that you leave on the early-morning train; then I can come later in the day, bringing only Vignetti with me.'
Marquette controlled a sudden suspicion that arose in his mind. He formulated a quick plan.
Let Lucien Partridge think that he had left Westbrook Falls. He could remain here, watching, to make sure that the old man would go to New York as he promised. Then Vic could follow.
THE secret-service man produced a card from his pocket and wrote the name of a hotel upon it. He handed the card to Lucien Partridge. The old man read the address.
'Meet me there,' said Vic, 'at ten o'clock to-morrow evening. I shall prove conclusively that I am the man I represent myself to be. By cooperating with me, you will be able to protect yourself against all who wish you harm.'
This time, it was Lucien Partridge who was deceived. He saw no subterfuge in Marquette's statement.
He was convinced that his visitor intended to go to New York on the early train. The old man glanced at the clock.
'It is nearly three,' he said. 'The Limited arrives in Westbrook Falls at four thirty. I shall have Vignetti drive you to the station.'
Vic knew that he must accept the offer in order to avoid suspicion. That could work to his advantage.
The ticket office would not be open. He would let Vignetti see him get on the train; then he would get off at the first stop, and ride back on a westbound local.
'Come,' said Lucien Partridge. 'I shall summon Vignetti.' He led the way through the hall.
In the silence of that large mansion, Vic Marquette sensed that many men were present—guards who served Lucien Partridge and were in readiness for any attack upon this place.
They found Vignetti in the laboratory. Lucien Partridge gave a sign. The Corsican helped the old man don his smock. As he drew on his gloves, Partridge was talking in Italian; then he turned to Marquette.
'I am going back to work,' he said with a smile. 'I have instructed Vignetti to take you to the station. I shall say good-by.'
A clock in the corner of the laboratory was pointing to five minutes of three. Lucien Partridge extended his gloved hand to bid Marquette good-by. The secret-service man stepped forward to accept the friendly clasp.
Lucien Partridge was smiling. Vignetti, behind Marquette, was leering. The secret-service man saw only Partridge—not the other. He sensed no danger in the old man's amiable parting action.
For Lucien Partridge's smile was lulling and kindly. It was the smile he always wore when he reached forth to deal the creeping death upon an unsuspecting victim!
Vic Marquette was ready to grasp the hand of doom!
CHAPTER XIX. THE SHADOW INTERVENES
AS Vic Marquette's hand was about to enter the deadly clutch of Lucien Partridge's poisoned glove, a startling sound broke the tense silence that existed in the old man's laboratory.
The strident ringing of a loud alarm came as an unexpected token of approaching danger. The ringing broke and was repeated; throughout the distant portions of the house, other bells jingled as in answer.
The effect of this interruption was instantaneous. Lucien Partridge paused, with hand outstretched, his eyes staring in amazement.
Vic Marquette, startled by the noise, dropped back instinctively, dropping his arm to his side. A surprised scowl appeared upon Vignetti's face as the Corsican looked quickly toward the door.
The sudden ringing of the bell had brought salvation to Vic Marquette. Because of it, he had escaped the handclasp proffered by Lucien Partridge. The timely intervention had temporarily freed the secret-service man from the menace of the creeping death.
Heavy footsteps were pounding down the stairs. Partridge's henchmen were answering the alarm. Their prompt response inspired the old man to action. Forgetful of Marquette's presence, he uttered a cry that explained all.
