BRUCE DUNCAN’S FRIEND
THE telephone bell awoke Harry Vincent in the morning. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He had slept late; for the grueling adventure of the preceding night had exhausted him.
As he reached for the phone, he felt a twinge in his left arm — a reminder of the bullet that had wounded him.
The voice on the wire was deliberate.
“Mr. Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we send the shirts you ordered? We received your letter this morning. Hello! Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” replied Harry.
There was a click from the other end. The speaker had apparently been cut off. Harry listened for a moment; then smiled as he hung up the receiver. The interrupted call had given him the full message.
“Send letter here.”
That had been the meaning of the three emphasized words. It was a short, cryptic message.
Harry was used to such calls. He had heard them by phone; he had listened to them over the radio. A few words, stressed at intervals, could carry complete instructions.
It was obvious that the call had come from Claude Fellows. The insurance broker was the man through whom Harry communicated with The Shadow.
So he was to send the letter to Claude Fellows. What letter?
Harry called the hotel desk.
“Any messages for me?” he asked.
“A letter here, sir.”
“Send it up.”
When the letter arrived, Harry merely noted that it was addressed to him. He placed it in a long envelope, and addressed it to Claude Fellows.
It was after nine o’clock, so Harry dressed and went to the Grandville Building. There he left the letter with Fellows’ stenographer. After that he went out for breakfast.
Evidently there were to be no immediate duties for him. Last night, Harry had congratulated himself upon his skill in trailing Volovick, the man who had been following Stanley Berger. But that had ended in a fiasco.
Harry had fallen into a simple snare; The Shadow had been forced to rescue him.
Last night had furnished plenty of excitement. But now it appeared that he had been dropped from the task of watching Stanley Berger. Harry felt somewhat piqued.
He went back to the hotel and read a newspaper. In the journal he saw the account of Stanley Berger’s suicide.
Harry whistled softly. So that was why he had been relieved from duty!
He could not believe that Berger was dead. It was a strange, unexplainable sequel to the events of last night.
A MAN entered the lobby while Harry was still pondering over the demise of Stanley Berger. Spying Harry, the newcomer approached and slapped him on the back.
Harry was startled by the suddenness of the greeting.
“Bruce Duncan!” he exclaimed.
“None other,” was the reply. “How’s everything, Harry?”
“All right. Come on up to the room. We can talk a while.”
When they reached Harry’s room, the two men began a long conversation.
They had not seen each other for some time. Bruce Duncan had been abroad. He had just recently returned to America.
When Harry had last seen him, Duncan had been worried, and his appearance had shown it. Now he was the picture of health; a fine, clean-cut chap of powerful physique.
At first the talk was of Bruce Duncan’s trip abroad. Finally Harry lowered his voice, and referred to events of the past.
“Has everything been all right?” he asked. “All right since the affair of the Russian jewels?”
Bruce Duncan nodded.
“You have told no one?” questioned Harry.
“No one,” replied Duncan. “I have preserved absolute secrecy.”
“Have you ever seen the messenger since — “
“Berchik? No. I have no idea what became of him.”
“You are wise to keep your secret.”
“I know it, Harry,” said Bruce Duncan soberly. “You can be sure that I have kept silence. You know the secret of those jewels.
“They were the wealth of a Russian prince. My uncle was to receive them, and give shares to other people. But my uncle died before Berchik arrived, and the task fell upon me. I distributed the shares anonymously.
“There are only two men in America who know that I received the jewels. You and myself.”
Harry Vincent shook his head.
“The Shadow knows,” he corrected.
“That is true,” agreed Duncan. “Of course The Shadow knows. Had it not been for The Shadow, you and I would be dead.”
“He rescued me again, last night,” said Harry, quietly. “Remember, Bruce, you must never mention The Shadow — to any one but myself.”
“I understand. Your connection with The Shadow is as important a secret to you as the jewels are to me. Well, I have the jewels stowed safely away in a safe-deposit vault.
“I know where they are. But do you know where The Shadow is?”
“He seems to be everywhere, Bruce,” laughed Harry. “I have had exciting adventures since I last saw you; and I appear to be on the verge of new experiences.”
A ring from the telephone interrupted the conversation. Harry answered.
“Oh, yes,” Duncan heard him say. “I forgot that the insurance policy ran out to-day. I’ll stop over before five o’clock.”
Harry hung up. He resumed conversation with Duncan.
THE subject changed; they discussed various unimportant matters, and finally Bruce Duncan reverted to the trip from which he had just returned.
“One makes many interesting acquaintances, traveling abroad,” he said. “I met a German coming back on the boat. He has been living here in New York for several years.
“He invited me to a party, night before last. I was introduced to some very interesting people. One in particular — “
He smiled and looked at his watch.
“I have a luncheon engagement,” he said. “Can’t you come along with me? I’d like you to meet the person of whom I am speaking.”
“Who. The German?”
“No. My new friend. The one to whom I was introduced.”
“All right,” agreed Harry. “I don’t have anything to do until late this afternoon, when I have an appointment with an insurance man. I’ll be glad to go along with you.”
Harry was glad to have met Bruce Duncan again.
They continued their talk as they left the hotel. Harry learned that Bruce was living alone, in an old mansion which had belonged to his uncle.
Bruce’s only attendant was a faithful Hindu servant, named Abdul. The Hindu had been abroad with Bruce.
“I couldn’t get along without Abdul,” remarked Bruce, as they walked down Broadway. “He’s been with me for years. I brought him back from India, after a trip around the world.
“He’s helped me out of some difficult places. He’s not only a good bodyguard; he seems to have some instinctive power that enables him to see danger before it arrives. His only fault is that he talks very little. He keeps his knowledge to himself.”
THE two men entered the lobby of a Broadway hotel. Bruce led the way to the hotel cafe. The head waiter recognized him.
“I have a table for you, Mr. Duncan,” he said.
“There will be three of us,” announced Bruce.
They sat at the table, and puffed at cigarettes. Bruce Duncan’s eyes were toward the door. Suddenly he arose, and left the dining room.
He returned a minute later. Harry looked up to see him approaching with a young woman as his companion. Rising from the table, Harry turned to meet the new arrival. It had never occurred to him that Bruce Duncan’s friend might be a girl!
“Miss DeLand, may I present Mr. Vincent — “
Harry was staring in amazement before Bruce Duncan had completed the introduction.
The young woman was the one who had come to his assistance last night, in the Pink Rat!
He had seen her at a distance then; now, at close vision, she appeared more beautiful than before. Harry was positive of her identity; and he fancied that he saw a gleam of recognition in the girl’s eyes.
Harry quickly regained his composure.
“Haven’t I met you before?” he questioned.
The girl shook her head. She no longer betrayed a look of recognition.
As they sat at the lunch table, Harry Vincent was thoughtful. The tone of the girl’s voice, her smile, and her manner left no room for doubt.
She was the girl who had rescued him. Why did she pretend not to recognize him? What was her purpose with Bruce Duncan?
Was she a friend or an enemy of The Shadow?