Harry Vincent stared gloomily at Bruce Duncan while they were eating their breakfast.
"Next Tuesday is coming soon," remarked Harry.
"Why remind me of it?" replied his friend. "If we don't do any more than we have during the last three days, next Tuesday can come and go without meaning anything to us."
"What can we do? We've lost contact by radio, and we've been instructed to use caution. We can't go prowling through the woods without exciting suspicion, can we?"
"Did you send a wireless message last night?"
"Yes, and I listened for a reply. Up to ten o'clock. No result. So I gave it up."
"You received a letter when we were in town yesterday morning. Whom was it from?"
"Fellows. He simply said to keep on lying low. I think something has gone wrong, Bruce. It's Saturday now, and we've been kept virtually idle since Tuesday night. It seems to me The Shadow has slipped out of the picture."
"Maybe he ran into trouble, Harry. He's looked for it often enough. He ran some big chances that night he pulled me out of Isaac Coffran's house."
"The Shadow usually manages to win out, Bruce. But this time it looks different. I'm going to run down to the village to see if there's another letter there. Unless Fellows gives us some definite instructions, we'll have to act for ourselves."
Bruce Duncan was thoughtful.
"Harry," he said, "we can't be far wrong in our location. The bus driver told us that he stopped at Ridge Road to let a man off on Tuesday night. The only reason that we haven't found the place is because we haven't looked."
"I agree, Bruce. But if we run into Chefano again, he'll be wise to the whole thing. You know that."
"If we had a plane, we could fly over this locality and make observations. You can see a lot from above."
Vincent grunted contemptuously.
"Sure you can, and what would Chefano think if he heard a plane buzzing in circles overhead? But wait! You've given me an idea. You know that mountain in back of us?"
"The one they call Rocky Summit?"
"That's the one. When I was in town yesterday, I saw one of the natives pointing it out to a stranger. He said that there's a path up the mountain. There's a clearing near the top, and you can see the whole valley from there. That's better than an airplane."
"We'd be pretty far away to observe anything."
"Not if we had powerful field glasses. We'll go downtown and see if we can buy any."
* * *
They were fortunate when they arrived at the village. Josh Stevens had an excellent pair of field glasses for sale.
"I had an order for them two years ago," he said. "When they came in, the customer had left town. I kept them anyway."
The morning mail had brought no letter from Fellows. So Vincent and Duncan set out for Rocky Summit.
Reaching the highest point on Mountain Pike, they turned up a side road and reached the path that led up the mountain. Very few persons made the ascent; the climb was not difficult, but the mountain was infested with rattlesnakes. The young men wore leather puttees and carried long sticks.
They found that the top of the mountain formed an excellent lookout. In a short while, they located the top of their cottage. The cabin on Seth Wilkinson's property could not be seen because of the trees.
"That's the trouble," observed Bruce. "We're looking down at an angle. I can't even see the Ridge Road."
"There's a portion of it, where it leaves the pike."
"Yes. That's plain enough. Look there, Harry. What's that below the road — that old gray building?"
Harry adjusted the glasses.
"It looks like a mass of ruins," he said. "There's a little white building alongside of it."
Duncan took the field glasses and made observations.
"It looks like an old stone house," he said. "Stone base, probably, with the top floors wood. There's been a fire there. Not much left of it except the ground floor. I can't figure what the white building is."
Harry Vincent drew a paper from his pocket.
"This may tell us," he said. "It's a back number of Culbertville's weekly newspaper. I was in their office a few days ago, making careful inquiries. I mentioned that I was interested in this part of the country, and they told me they'd obtain an old copy of their paper that contained information about this locality. I picked the paper up this morning, after I left the post office. Put it in my pocket and forgot it."
He found the desired article and read halfway through it. His face showed sudden interest as he exclaimed:
"Here it is, Bruce!"
"Read it," replied his companion, still looking through the glasses. Harry read:
"Not far from Culbertville is the Marsden house, now a blackened heap of stone. It was built on the site of an old Mennonite church that had been abandoned many years before. About fifty years ago, Harper Marsden, an eccentric resident of Culbertville, purchased a tract of land adjoining the old church property and chose that spot to build his home.
"The first floor was of stone, raised above an extensive basement, but the upper stories were made of wood. The building was erected close beside the old cemetery, which was all that remained after the church had been torn down.
"Harper Marsden lived there for several years; he was a wealthy bachelor and seemed to like his melancholy abode. He said that it would be his resting place, and in anticipation of his death he erected a mausoleum near his home. His prophecy that he would be buried there came true, but not as he expected it. The house was destroyed by fire, and Harper Marsden died amid the flames. His body was never recovered; it was probably lost beneath the stone wall at the rear, which crumbled into a mass.
"Since that event, no attempt has been made to restore the property. The front of the basement was not completely destroyed; it is still covered by the first floor. When the ruins were searched in hopes of discovering the body of the owner, two men were injured by falling stones. Since then the place has been avoided as dangerous.
"The property stands back from Mountain Pike, below Ridge Road. It was reached by a lane extending from Ridge Road, but the byway has fallen into disuse and has long since become little more than a path.
The iron fence erected by Harper Marsden still surrounds the property, including the ancient graveyard."
Bruce Duncan was still studying the scene below when Harry Vincent concluded his reading. He acted as though he had not heard a single word.
"Want me to read it again?"
"No," replied Bruce. "I heard it. That's why I'm so interested. I'm looking at the old cemetery."
"Can you see it from here?"
"Yes, to the left of the mausoleum. The tombstones look like little gray bricks. There's some one sitting on one of them."
"What!"
"Some one sitting on one of them," repeated Bruce. "A man, sitting on a tombstone. He looks very small, even with these field glasses. He's moving now.
"Harry, he's walking over by the mausoleum. He's running, now, toward the old ruins. Harry, it's the ape-faced man! He's gone!"
Harry seized the glasses. The object of his search had disappeared.
"Are you sure about it, Bruce?"
"Positive," Bruce declared. "Do you remember when the creature ran off through the woods, last Monday? It seemed to hop along the ground. I recognized that stride just now."
"I see something," remarked Harry. "A man outside the building. A man with a gray shirt. Chefano wore a gray flannel shirt when we saw him. It may be Chefano. He's gone now."
They took turns watching through the glasses, but neither saw any further motion near the ruins of the old mansion. They decided to descend.
"It's the meeting place, all right," declared Bruce as they walked down the path. "The old lane must be close to Mountain Pike. We went past it without noticing it. That's why we missed the man the other night. If we'd waited for the bus, we would have seen him."
The more they considered the matter, the more positive they were that they had located the place they sought. To make sure, they drove up Ridge Road and found the abandoned lane. Leaving the car, they walked cautiously along until they discovered the iron fence, which was constructed of iron bars, pointed at the top.
"Stop!" whispered Harry. "Look along the fence, Bruce."
On the other side of the pickets stood the ape-faced man. The creature's clawlike hands gripped the bars. Its head turned, and it saw the two men in the lane.
With an ugly snarl the brute ran along behind the fence until it neared the intruders.
"Come along," exclaimed Harry. "Back to the car. Chefano may be down here any minute."
Bruce glanced over his shoulder as he ran. The ape-faced creature was evidently human. It was clad in old, ill-fitting garments.
Back in the cottage, Bruce talked of their discoveries while Harry tapped a call on the wireless. It was late in the afternoon — time to go through the routine of sending a message, even though there was no hope of a reply.
"The creature is safe inside those bars," said Bruce. "That's why Chefano is keeping it there at present. I figure that he lived in the cabin so as to keep away from the meeting place except on Tuesday nights. But after that trouble in the road, he moved into the old ruins. I don't think he really suspected us of knowing anything. Our trouble with the ape-man was too obviously accidental. He played safe by moving; that's all.
"Did you see those gates in the fence? They were closed and locked with a chain. That must be the entrance to the place. On Tuesday night, the gates will be unlocked."
He ended his comments when Harry Vincent adjusted the ear phones. Both men lighted cigars.
Suddenly, Harry became alert. He listened intently for a minute. Then he sprang to the key.
"At last!" he exclaimed. "A reply!"
With his eyes on the code before him, The Shadow's agent worked with keen rapidity as he sent his report of the new discoveries.