It was the second night of Stuart Bruxton's sojourn in Greenhurst. So far, nothing had occurred to disturb the tranquillity.
Of all places, this peaceful summer resort seemed a most unlikely one for strife. It was for that very reason that Stuart was now alone in his room at the hotel, making his plans for this night. Stuart had been sent here to Massachusetts to conduct an investigation. He had been advised not to act decisively without first reporting to Harry Vincent.
His duty was one of observation. But Stuart felt that observation and action would go very well together; and on this occasion, he intended to try it out.
He had come here to watch two men, without interfering in their normal plans. Luck had broken his way. Paul Hawthorne and Sherwood Mayo had proved to be on friendly terms.
Sizing the two up, Stuart was well convinced that Hawthorne held a very minor position in the mind of Mayo. On the contrary, the multimillionaire loomed as a large factor in Hawthorne's limited world. Sherwood Mayo was a man of large affairs. Paul Hawthorne was a speculator, and something of an adventurer. Mayo appeared care free. Hawthorne seemed to dread some danger. These facts were significant. If a menace really existed for Hawthorne -
outside of the man's own imagination — it must come from an outside source. The promoter gave indications of fearing secret enemies.
On the other hand, Mayo's position, which seemed so secure, might be threatened without the millionaire realizing it. Mayo did not impress Stuart as a type of man who would bother with trivialities. Some scheme might be on foot without the millionaire suspecting the existence of a plot. Mayo was out of the picture tonight. That morning, his speedy monoplane had zoomed over the hotel, headed south for New York. That lightened Stuart's appointed task by half. He had only Hawthorne to consider at present.
But Stuart had a feeling that there might be a third man in this drama. He could not forget that tall, shadowy figure that he had seen outside the gate of Mayo's estate!
Tonight, Stuart intended to play the part of an active observer. From a package on his bed, he removed a suit of dark clothing — rough, ill-fitting garments that he had purchased in the village. Attired in these, he would not be recognized. There was a side door to the hotel, and it was no task to slip in and out without being observed.
Dressed, Stuart grinned as he viewed himself in the mirror. He looked like a farmhand ready for a night out. The dark, long-visored cap came over his eyes. That would do for the present. He could hide his features more effectively, later on.
Stuart slipped a businesslike revolver into his coat pocket. It was a short, snub-nosed.32
that made no bulge. He stole downstairs and left by the side door.
Once again the night was pitch black. Hovering clouds obscured the starlight. It was an ideal time for a secret prowl.
Striding up the road to Hawthorne's, Stuart found his thoughts reverting to the mysterious person whom he had seen beside the pillar of Mayo's wall.
Was that being at large tonight? The thought caused Stuart's hand to creep to his coat pocket. Perhaps the man had some connection with those fiends in Maryland! If so, an encounter here would be enjoyable. Stuart felt that he would like to meet both the old man with the smiling face and the monster, Grady.
Cautiously nearing Hawthorne's, Stuart saw a light in the window. He made a sweeping circuit through the woods, and crawled toward the house.
Beneath the window, Stuart crouched as he looked about him. Positive that no one was near, Stuart rose and peered through the window.
Hawthorne, at his table, was going over accounts. In a corner was a dull-faced young man
— probably the promoter's assistant. Hawthorne had mentioned that such a man lived here. Stuart dropped away from the window and prowled about the house. Satisfied that there was no one in the vicinity, he turned toward Mayo's. Stuart knew that there was no one but the Filipino servant at the millionaire's lodge. With Mayo away, what were the chances of the strange, shadowy person being present? None, Stuart decided.
He felt sure that the man — if it were actually a living being and not an imaginary figure that Stuart had seen — would be more concerned with Mayo than with his home. With Mayo away, Stuart decided that the premises about the lodge would be deserted. It was an ideal time to investigate that neighborhood. Stuart reached the approach to the house, and noted that the lamps on top of the pillars were not lighted. So he went directly through the gateway, and soon saw a light in the low-lying second floor of Mayo's lodge. That, Stuart decided, must be Louie's room.
There was also a light downstairs — a single lamp in Mayo's living room. Stuart again adopted his circuitous tactics and peered into the downstairs room. No one there.
He went in back of the house, and reached a large level area — Mayo's landing field. From here he could see the Filipino's quarters.
Stuart watched the man's window a short while, and just about the time he had again decided to approach the house, he saw the light go out. Then came the noise of a window being raised. Evidently Louie had retired.
To make sure, Stuart moved silently back to the house, and again looked in the living-room window. The place was still deserted.
Stuart felt sure that the light had either been forgotten or that it was customary to leave it on all night. With that decision, Stuart Bruxton smiled quietly to himself.
Now, he could go back to Hawthorne's house, make another inspection, and return to his room at the Inn. But that was not Stuart's intention. He was going to introduce the element of action into this prowl. In that room was a desk. In a pigeonhole of the desk was a key. The key unlocked a drawer. Within the drawer was a package of envelopes that Sherwood Mayo had started to unbind — and then had changed his mind.
It was Stuart's plan to take advantage of the millionaire's absence and inspect that package. He wanted to know whether or not Sherwood Mayo had been bluffing when he had said that he had forgotten to bring the proper package from New York.
Softly, Stuart tried the living-room window, it was looser than he had anticipated. It had evidently been locked, but the fastening was not a firm one.
Stuart pushed the sash inward; then upward. It gave under pressure. With only a slight rattle, the window opened.
Stuart waited a full minute; then drew his body through the opening and into Mayo's living room. He stole to the doorway, crouching low as he moved. He listened.
Satisfied that Louie could not have heard his entry, Stuart went back to the desk and fished in the pigeonhole. He found the key. Then, with a slight smile on his lips, Stuart bethought himself of two precautions.
He removed the revolver from his right coat pocket and set it softly on the table. From his left coat pocket, he produced a blue bandanna handkerchief, and tied it about his face. Two eyeholes which Stuart had cut that afternoon served to transform the bandanna into a perfect mask. There was a remote chance that he might encounter someone here — either Louie or some unknown person. In either case, Stuart intended that his identity should remain wholly unknown.
With revolver close at hand, Stuart unlocked the desk drawer. He opened it and found a cardboard box. This, he believed, was the object that contained the package of envelopes.
Opening the box, Stuart discovered a packet that looked very much like the one which Mayo had exhibited. He raised the loose flap of the first envelope and drew out a sheet of paper. It was entirely blank.
Replacing the paper, Cliff tried the second envelope with the same result. Each succeeding envelope had similar contents. All blank!
Was this the packet that Sherwood Mayo had shown? If so, the millionaire's statement had been correct. It must be the wrong packet.
It was also possible that the original packet had been taken away, and this one left instead. Why?
The envelopes were in Stuart's left hand. His right hand, resting on the desk, touched the handle of the revolver. Stuart's eyes were staring at the green blotter on the desk, his mind completely centered on the puzzling problem that confronted him.
It was instinct that told Stuart someone was approaching. In a flash, his hand seized the gun, and he whirled to ward off approaching disaster.
Even before his masked eyes could observe the menace — before he could level his gun, Stuart received the full attack of an antagonist.
A white-clad form sprang from a few feet away. An arm twisted itself about Stuart's neck. A quick, sweeping hand clutched the revolver and flung it across the room.
Grimly, Stuart locked himself in the struggle. He knew almost immediately that he had to contend with Louie, the Filipino. The servant must have heard him downstairs, and made a stealthy approach. This fight at close quarters was to Stuart's liking. He gripped the man's body with his strong hands, and sought to obtain a dominating hold.
But, to Stuart's astonishment, his foe was too formidable to conquer. Louie had gained the advantage by his surprise attack. Stuart, with his superior physique, should have offset that advantage. But he could not.
Stuart was a capable wrestler, but the Filipino was a master of jujutsu. They struggled back and forth, Stuart's teeth grating and his breath coming fiercely. Louie's wiry arms were controlling him, twisting him sidewise, despite Stuart's most strenuous efforts.
Stuart realized that he was being drawn into some hold that would give the Filipino the advantage. To prevent this, he wrestled one arm free, and tried to swing his opponent to the floor. That proved to be the very thing that Louie had desired. Twisting suddenly, the Filipino raised Stuart's body upward, and flung him headlong.
Stuart lost his hold as he somersaulted through the air. He felt a terrific impact against the back of his neck. For a moment he lay prone, his arms sprawled helplessly. Then he shot his hands upward and seized Louie's body.
The lithe Filipino countered the attack. He was twisting again, and under his expert efforts, Stuart's arms were pinioned beneath his own back. Staring straight upward through the eyeholes of his tight bandanna mask, Stuart saw the gleam of a knife blade in the Filipino's hand.
The blow which Stuart had received had weakened him for the instant; now, with death close at hand, he broke loose with his right hand, and clutched at the descending wrist. The action stopped the downward stroke.
Then Louie's left hand struck Stuart's arm, and the Filipino's left knee settled the defense.
Stuart was pinioned again, helpless, despite his writhing.
The Filipino's left hand was planted firmly against Stuart's mask. The fingers dug through the eyeholes. Stuart could see nothing now — but he knew that the murderous blade was aiming for his throat. No action of his own could have saved Stuart at that instant. He was utterly at Louie's mercy. A second was all that the Filipino needed to drive the knife blade home and end the life of this intrepid man. Stuart was closer to death than he had ever been — even when he had been trapped in the fiery house in Maryland!
It was the unexpected that brought the rescue. The knife stroke never fell. The brutal, boring fingers were suddenly withdrawn from Stuart's eyes.
Before the helpless man's blurred vision, the gleaming blade flashed sidewise and downward. A black-gloved fist had materialized from nowhere. It had landed against the face of the Filipino!
As Louie toppled sidewise, Stuart was freed. He rolled over in an effort to regain his feet.
As he turned, Stuart saw the white-coated Filipino rising before him. The murderous man was dodging the new antagonist. Once more, the gleaming knife flashed; then a mass of blackness blotted out the form of the Filipino.
The mask obscured Stuart's vision. As he pulled the handkerchief down to his neck, he saw Louie's form rise upward toward the ceiling, as though elevated by an invisible force! It was an amazing blur to Stuart's blinking eyes.
Then the Filipino hurtled headlong. The gleaming knife clattered to the floor.
Bewildered, Stuart saw Louie lying stunned. Looking back at the spot where the Filipino had been, he saw the answer.
In the center of the room stood a man in black — a tall figure clad in a flowing cloak. His face was obscured by the brim of a hat. From beneath, glowed keen eyes that viewed Stuart. The folds of the man's black cloak were swaying; and Stuart caught a glimpse of a bright, crimson lining. It was the mysterious man whom he had seen the night before! Here, in this mellow-lighted room, the tall figure seemed more mysterious than before. It was a shadow that had come to life — a solid being materialized from nothingness. Stuart's eyes were staring; his ears received the next weird impression. From that tall, sinister form came a mocking laugh. It was a cry of victory — the sardonic mirth of an avenger! Those burning eyes were staring toward the unconscious form of the murderous Filipino. The hidden lips were voicing the swift triumph!
This man had rescued Stuart; but was he friend or foe? Had he stopped the death thrust of the knife to deliver death of his own choosing?
Seized by a sudden fear, Stuart could think of but one course; to protect himself in case this being of the night should prove to be an enemy!
Across the room, he saw his revolver, lying beneath a chair. Stuart acted on impulse. He leaped for the spot where his gun lay, intending to gain the weapon as a protection.
He stumbled as he reached his objective. On his knees, Stuart clutched the.32 and threw himself around to cover the stranger. Then came amazement.
The man in black was gone! Stuart was alone, with the sprawled form of the helpless Filipino!
Was it all a dream? Could the rescue have been a thing of fancy? Even as Stuart wondered, his ears caught a sound that seemed to echo from outside the house. It was a long, eerie laugh — that same triumphant laugh of the man in black!
Stuart pocketed his revolver and dashed from the house. He stood in the thick darkness.
He could see nothing he could hear nothing. The weird rescuer was swallowed by the night.
Retracing his steps toward the road, Stuart wondered. He had found the front door unlocked when he had rushed from the lodge. It was through that door the stranger had entered. The man must have unlocked it — for it seemed likely that Louie would have barred the door at night. On a chance, Stuart wended his way to Hawthorne's. He crept to the house and peered into the window. Both men were at their places. It was obvious that neither had been out of the cottage.
Slowly, Stuart went back toward the Inn. His body was bruised and lame. He took his time; and stopped frequently to listen.
As he neared the hotel, he heard a distant sound. It was the faint humming of an airplane motor. Was Mayo returning? Stuart waited. The black sky gave no sign of the plane. The purring sound faded. Stuart recalled that there was a landing field a few miles from Greenhurst. Had the plane taken off from there? The plane was departing, not arriving; so it could not be Mayo's ship.
Stuart was wondering as he went into the hotel; wondering about the man; wondering about the plane. Somehow, there seemed to be a connection.
In this, Stuart was correct. Heading southward, The Shadow was flying to New York!