It was eleven o'clock. For three hours Harry Vincent had been watching from the vacant store across the street from Isaac Coffran's house.
At eight o'clock a man had entered. In accordance with instructions, Vincent had called on the telephone.
A quiet voice had answered him and had received the information.
Harry had made a second report at nine o'clock, and a third at ten. It was time for a fourth call, yet he had nothing new to say — simply that the man who had entered the house had not come out.
Speculation had gripped Harry's mind. He could see Isaac Coffran's house fairly well, for the street was lighted. The place appeared to be impregnable. The iron-shuttered windows formed a veritable fortress.
He imagined that the sides and the rear of the house were similarly protected. He would have supposed that the house was empty had he not seen the man enter.
He was sure that the visitor was Bruce Duncan. He had not had an opportunity to observe the man closely, but he could tell that he was not over thirty years of age, and of more than average height and weight.
He picked up the telephone and called the number. While waiting for the connection, Harry wondered who the person with the quiet voice could be. Some agent of The Shadow. He doubted that it could be The Shadow himself. The Shadow might be out of town — perhaps in Harrisburg!
The thought was not encouraging. To-night's adventure might show sudden developments. It was more than four hours from Harrisburg by the fastest train. The Shadow, superman that he was, could not be in the capital of Pennsylvania and in Manhattan at the same time. That might account for the delay in action.
Vincent knew from experience that when danger threatened The Shadow's presence was invaluable.
Harry also wondered where the person whom he was calling was located. Probably at some temporary place, which was being used for to-night only.
"Hello." It was the quiet voice coming across the phone.
"Hello," said Harry. "Everything the same."
"Keep watching."
"Wait!"
Harry had seen a man come stealthily up the street. The fellow was outside the store window now, looking at the house across the street.
"What's up?" asked the methodical voice.
"There's a man outside the window," answered Harry in guarded tones.
"Outside your window?" asked the voice. "Or outside the window of the house?"
"Outside my window. Right here."
"What does he look like?"
"His back is toward me. Wait. He's turning now. I can see his face. It's a dark face. He looks like a Hindu."
"What's he doing now?"
"Sneaking across the street. He's trying the front door of the house."
"Keep watching him."
"I am watching him. He's back in the street. He's looking up at the house. Evidently he sees he can't get in. Now he's going around to the right side."
"What's he doing there?"
"I can't see. The house is a trifle down the street."
"Tell me immediately if he comes back."
There was a lapse of fully two minutes. Then Vincent saw the Hindu reappear in front of the house.
"He's back," he said in the phone.
"Keep watching," ordered the voice.
"Right. He's looking at the front of the house, just above the sidewalk. He must have found cellar windows on the side. There are none here in front. Now he's going to the left side of the house."
"Can you see him there?"
"Just barely. He's in an alley — a narrow alley — and it's dark. I can just make out his outline. He's stooping now. Trying the windows. He won't have any luck; this house is certainly heavily barred. Ah!"
"What is it?"
"He must have found a loose fastening. He's working on a window. About halfway back. I can just see him."
"Don't lose sight of him."
"I won't. He seems to be working harder. Now he's stopped. He's trying to push himself into something. He's flat on the ground. There he goes! Feet-first! He's in — completely in!"
"Wait one minute. Tell me if he reappears."
* * *
Harry remained silent, his eyes glued on the spot where the Hindu had disappeared into the side of the building. He could detect no motion.
"Has he returned?" questioned the voice.
"No," answered Harry. "I'm sure he has gained an entrance."
"It is time for you to act," said the quiet tones. "Until to-night it has seemed impossible to effect an entrance into that building. Now it has been done by some one else."
"Shall I enter the way the Hindu went?"
"Yes. But be cautious. Listen to my instructions."
Harry was intent.
"In the table drawer," said the person at the other end of the wire, "you will find three articles. A piece of chalk. A small flashlight. An automatic pistol, fully loaded.
"When you leave the store, make a chalk mark on the door. Put a tiny arrow on the sidewalk pointing across the street. Mark your path to the spot where you enter.
"Once in the house, your chief duty will be to find Bruce Duncan, the young man who entered at eight o'clock. Mark your path as you go through the house.
"Use the flashlight as little as possible. Use the automatic only in case of necessity. I can give you no more advice. The rest is up to you."
Harry waited, but the monotonous voice did not continue. He was about to speak when he heard the click of the receiver at the other end of the line. He opened the table drawer. Groping in the dark, he found the articles mentioned. He made his way cautiously to the street; there he placed the first chalk mark on the door.
The fresh air added new vigor to Harry Vincent. The time for action had arrived! He was on the verge of a mysterious adventure. His mind dwelt on the thoughts of what lay ahead as he went stealthily toward the house, making his chalk marks as he moved along.
The Hindu had pried open a hinged iron shutter. Harry discovered this after a quick examination which did not require the flashlight. Inside the shutter was an iron grating. This must also have been loose, for it was swung inward.
The flashlight made a circle on the floor of the cellar as Harry pressed the button of the tiny instrument. It was a dark, gloomy cellar, that seemed to fade away in endless depths. The Hindu had entered in the darkness. Harry did likewise.
His feet clicked as they struck the stone floor. Blindly, Harry Vincent moved forward; as he did, he sensed that something was taking place beyond him. He fancied that he heard a sound some distance away.