THE SHADOW HEARS
PROKOP sat sullenly in his apartment. He was seated in an armchair, his eyes gazing at the opposite wall. He was a shrewd and capable man; even though he was neither subtle nor tactful. He disliked work that took too long to finish. That was why he was in an ugly humor.
It was nearly twenty-four hours since the last meeting, at which he had been foiled in his efforts to seize Arlette. Prokop had set the meeting early, in hopes that the Red Envoy would not put in an appearance.
He had also expected that the Red Envoy would visit his apartment; in fact, he had waited up until after one o’clock. But the man of mystery had not arrived.
At this particular moment, Prokop was wondering about the Red Envoy. The man who came from Moscow was amazingly well-informed. He seemed to possess some access to the secrets of the gang.
Prokop resented this surveillance; at the same time, he feared the Red Envoy. Prokop was the type of man who respected only those whom he feared.
Prokop had learned one fact of interest during the day. An elevator had fallen in a warehouse near the home of Prince Zuvor. He had gained this news through the papers — not from one of his agents.
The fact that the elevator had crashed was interesting; that no one had been found in the wreckage was disappointing.
For Prokop had recently learned all about that elevator, through his agent, Fritz Bloch, the man who posed as Prince Zuvor’s servant.
The elevator had been adjusted for a catastrophe. But Prokop had hoped that some one would have been in it.
A slight sound interrupted Prokop’s musings. He looked up to see the Red Envoy standing before him.
The mysterious personage had arrived unseen. He had entered Prokop’s apartment unannounced. Now he was looking at Prokop; and his lips formed a straight, firm line beneath the crimson mask.
The Red Envoy did not speak. His expression appeared to be one of inquiry. He awaited a statement from Prokop.
When the latter had recovered from his astonishment, he went to the bookcase, and brought out his reports. When he turned around, he saw the Red Envoy sitting in a chair.
“I have very little progress to report,” said Prokop, in a reluctant voice.
“So I expected,” replied the Red Envoy dryly. “That is one reason why I did not visit you last night.”
PROKOP became a trifle nervous. The Red Envoy was between him and the door. As he looked at the man in the crimson mask, he fancied he saw something, beyond — a strange, dark shadow that rested just inside the door.
He stared for a moment; then, believing that the sudden arrival of the Red Envoy had started his imagination, he turned his attention back to the reports.
“Regarding Whitburn,” he said slowly. “I received word through Agent C, who was present at last night’s meeting. He says that Agent E is slowly getting results. He is afraid to make too sudden a step.”
“What have you done about this man Vincent — the one who was to be watched at the Metrolite Hotel?”
“I shall read you the complete report,” said Prokop. “Agent F registered at the Metrolite Hotel, under the name of Ernest Manion. He watched Vincent.
“The man received a letter. Manion obtained it. It proved to be a blank sheet of paper. We have tested it with chemicals. No writing appears.
“The letter was evidently a blind; for while Agent F was obtaining it, Vincent left the hotel. Agent F sent a message to that effect.
“In the meantime I received a message from Agent E, the man who is with Whitburn — under the name of Stokes. He had learned that Whitburn intended to hire Vincent to fill the vacancy on his staff.”
Prokop looked at the Red Envoy, expecting some token of approval; but the masked man made no sign.
“Agent F reported later that he had picked up Vincent’s trail. Vincent had entered a theater. F awaited instructions.
“I notified him that Vincent was going to Lake Marrinack. I told F to trail him, if possible. Vincent did not return to the Metrolite Hotel; F followed him to the Baronet Hotel.
“The next morning, Vincent managed to elude Agent F; but he turned up, as we had expected, at Lake Marrinack.”
“Is he there now?” asked the Red Envoy.
“Yes. Agent E tried to eliminate him by what would have appeared to be accidental death. Vincent escaped the trap.
“Before that, he communicated with some one in the village.”
“He must be eliminated immediately.”
“I sent word to that effect to Agent E. I told him to act quickly.”
“Send him further instructions. He must obtain the plans as quickly as possible. You have accomplished results in the past, Prokop. This is your greatest work. We can delay no longer.”
Prokop made notes; then he brought up the next subject.
“Report on Bruce Duncan,” he said. “Agent R has made no progress. Duncan has left town; she does not know where he has gone. Agent R is negligent.”
“You speak from malice, Prokop.”
“I am telling you a fact!” Prokop suddenly restrained his anger, as he noted the sternness of the Red Envoy’s countenance. “My report is correct,” he added, less bitterly. “Agent R has accomplished nothing.”
“Put another agent on the case. Immediate results are not necessary, even though they are desirable. This matter of Whitburn is most important.”
Prokop nodded. The Red Envoy made no further statement. That subject was closed. Prokop continued with his report.
“This refers to Prince Zuvor,” he said, with a shrewd gleam in his eyes. “I told you that the prince was dangerous.
“A man has called to see him. The man is a millionaire — his name is Lamont Cranston.” Prokop’s voice became suddenly triumphant.
“This man Cranston,” he added, “carries the sign of the Seventh Star.”
This time Prokop believed that he caught an expression of astonishment upon the Red Envoy’s lips.
“That means plotting,” said Prokop emphatically. “Prince Zuvor is a menace. He will make trouble for our cause. We should make an example of him.”
“You are anxious to dispose of Prince Zuvor?”
“I am,” admitted Prokop. “While he lives, my agents wonder why I do not strike him. Three of our men are detailed to watch him.
“Long vigil without result injures their morale. I have a plan which will surely dispose of him. I ask your permission to use it.”
“What is your plan?”
“Fritz Bloch,” said Prokop, in a low voice, “is our Agent K. He is posing as Prince Zuvor’s servant. He, above all others, desires the death of Zuvor. He has heard so much said in Zuvor’s home — so many statements denouncing our cause-“
“I understand,” interrupted the Red Envoy quietly. “Go on with your scheme.”
“My plan is this,” explained Prokop. “I shall give Agent K one of the new bombs — with the time-clock attachment. He can plant it in Zuvor’s house. Then pouf! It will be the end of the Zuvor and his czarist servant, Ivan Shiskin.”
THE Red Envoy was thoughtful. He seemed to be considering the merits of Prokop’s scheme.
“I shall do this at the meeting,” continued Prokop. “In the presence of all our agents, I shall delegate Agent K to the work. They will be exuberant — “
The Red Envoy held up a crimson-clad hand.
“What happened at Prince Zuvor’s house last night?” he questioned.
“I have not heard,” admitted Prokop.
“There was an elevator accident near there — ” began the Red Envoy.
Prokop smiled as he interrupted. He admired the insight of the Red Envoy.
The masked man knew that the accident had been the work of the Red agents, even though Prokop had not revealed the fact that his men had tampered with the elevator.
“That,” said Prokop, “was one of Prince Zuvor’s safe ways of leaving his house. A man should have died in that crash — somehow, he must have escaped.”
“Who was the man who escaped?” came the Red Envoy’s question.
“Cranston, perhaps,” answered Prokop. “I have not yet called Agent G, to learn if a report has come from Fritz Bloch.”
“Make the call immediately.”
Prokop went to the telephone. He gave a number.
Prokop had an ingenious method of communicating with his agents. At each meeting, an announcement was made of a new telephone number, where one of the agents — usually Agent G — would be stationed. Any messages were phoned by agents to that number.
By calling the number himself, Prokop could learn what the agents were doing, and could leave instructions for them.
To-night, he inquired if Agent K had phoned, Receiving an affirmative reply, Prokop began to take down words that were given him over the telephone, by Agent G. Fritz Bloch had sent a report in code.
The verbal message made no sense when Prokop had copied it. By referring to a code list among his papers, Prokop translated the message, and quickly told Fritz Bloch’s message to the Red Envoy.
“It was Cranston who came to Zuvor’s last night,” said Prokop. “The prince sent him away by the secret method. Something must have gone wrong. I imagine that the elevator broke before Cranston had a chance to enter it.”
“What else does Fritz say?”
“He tells me that Cranston made an appointment to meet Prince Zuvor at his home, one week from last night. The appointment will be at nine o’clock. They will then discuss important matters.”
The Red Envoy was thoughtful. Prokop, staring past the masked man, again observed that blackness that seemed so thick by the door. He became a trifle worried.
He was about to make a remark, when the Red Envoy spoke. This time the lips were expressive. They indicated the cunning thoughts that were in the man’s brain.
“I agree with you,” said the Red Envoy. “Zuvor is a menace. He must be destroyed. But you must be patient — for six days, at least.
“Our one great task is to obtain Whitburn’s plans and diagrams. Until we have them, any other action would be unwise.
“However, I am confident that we shall obtain the plans, within a few days. So I shall now tell you what I propose should be done with Zuvor. My scheme will enable us to dispose of two enemies instead of one.”
Prokop sensed that the masked man had thought out an ingenious arrangement. The next words of the Red Envoy proved that fact.
“Call a meeting,” said the Red Envoy. “Make it the night before Cranston is to come to see Zuvor. Give the bomb to the proper agent. Have it timed for ten minutes after nine. Place it in Zuvor’s house. The explosion will kill both our enemies.”
“And Ivan Shiskin, also,” added Prokop, in a pleased voice. “I shall give the bomb to Fritz Bloch — Agent K.”
“No,” said the Red Envoy thoughtfully. “Send Fritz a gray card. We do not want him at the meeting, if there is any danger that Prince Zuvor might suspect.
“Should Fritz come to the meeting, give him the bomb. If he is not present, send him a green card — which will tell him to leave immediately, because of threatening danger. Then he will be away.
“Agents B and M — those who are now watching Zuvor’s house — can attend to the planting of the bomb.”
“Very good,” replied Prokop. “I shall summon both of them to the meeting. How about Agent F — Volovick? I sent him a yellow card, you remember.”
“Bring him to the meeting. He has been away long enough. Send him a black card.”
Prokop could not control his delight, as he carefully wrote down the Red Envoy’s instructions. The spectacle of both Prince Zuvor and Lamont Cranston being blown to eternity was most pleasing to his imagination.
“But remember,” interposed the Red Envoy, “this must not go into effect unless we have managed to obtain Whitburn’s plans. But I expect to have them — very soon. I myself am going to Lake Marrinack.”
This prospect surprised Prokop. He had not expected action on the Red Envoy’s part. For a moment, he was tempted to object to this usurping of his power; then he realized that the Red Envoy was master.
“I shall go there,” declared the Red Envoy. “Notify your agent to expect me. I shall gain the plans. When I do — you will receive a telephone call — by long distance. It will give you time to make immediate arrangements.
“After making such arrangements, either remain here or leave a note, telling me where to call for the tickets — and just what my schedule will be. I have the passports.”
Prokop bowed in acknowledgment.
The Red Agent rose from his chair. As he did so, the shadow behind him seemed to grow. Prokop saw it, and uttered a startled cry. The Red Envoy, turning toward the door, obscured Prokop’s view.
“What is the matter?” questioned the masked man.
“Nothing,” said Prokop. He could see the door now — the blotch of darkness was no longer there. “I must be excited; I thought I saw something behind you.”
The Red Envoy made no reply. He walked to the door, opened it, and was gone. Prokop watched from his window, standing at the side, and peering through the crack of a shade. He did not see the Red Envoy in the street.
There was a reason. The Red Envoy took off his mask and gloves as he went down the dark stairs, and obscured his face in the collar of his coat.
When he left the door of the apartment house, he kept close to the wall, and was scarcely visible as he moved rapidly away.
People who were passing him did not see him; had they looked closely, they would have noticed his tall form, as it went along beside the dark wall.
But even the keenest observer would not have detected the shape which appeared a moment later.
For this second figure was nothing more than a shadow, which virtually grew from the darkness. It seemed to flit along the sidewalk, as it took up the trail of the Red Envoy.