AT half past eight the following evening, Frederick Froman descended the steps of his home and looked up and down the street. He saw a cruising cab, and hailed it. As he entered the vehicle and gave an address to the driver, Froman did not notice a man on the other side of the street.
This individual was a well-dressed young man who might have been taken for a chance passer-by, but as soon as the cab started toward the nearest avenue, the young man became suddenly active. He threw a searching glance at the blank windows of Froman’s house; then walked hurriedly along the street in the direction the cab had taken.
Harry Vincent, the agent of The Shadow, was still on watch. His plan to follow Froman was well calculated. It was a comparatively short distance to the nearest intersection. The cab had encountered a red light, and was still waiting to make a left turn, when Harry arrived at the corner.
As Froman’s cab swung down the avenue, Harry hailed a passing taxi and took up the pursuit before the other vehicle was out of sight.
Froman’s destination was the apartment house where Parker Noyes lived. When Froman entered the building, Harry Vincent was close behind, and heard the other man ask the way to the lawyer’s apartment. Harry followed no farther; he left the building, and walked down the street to find the nearest telephone.
Arriving at the door of the lawyer’s apartment, Froman knocked, and when the servant answered, asked if Mr. Noyes was at home. Receiving a reply in the affirmative, the visitor extended an engraved card, which the servant eyed in a curious manner. It bore the name:
F. O. FROMAN.
The man ushered the visitor into the apartment, and took the card to his master. He returned and courteously conducted Froman into the little office. Noyes, seated by his desk, looked up in a puzzled manner as Froman appeared, motioning his visitor to close the door behind him.
“WHY are you here?” questioned Noyes. “You know it’s not safe. I ordered you to stay away because too much contact may be dangerous!”
“It was important that I come,” answered Froman. “I’m worried, and I decided a personal visit would be the only solution.”
The lawyer nodded slowly. Like Froman, Noyes seemed troubled. Froman detected his companion’s attitude, and put a short, quick question:
“Regarding Helmsworth?”
Noyes nodded again thoughtfully. “He was in to see me again to-day,” he declared. “I have solved the trouble at last. Helmsworth has admitted that the cruising distance is too great for his submarine. He doubts if he can make it to Riga and return. He wants to put into some port.”
“It’s impossible!” exclaimed Froman. “That would ruin everything! Helmsworth should have told you long ago!”
“That doesn’t help the present situation,” responded Noyes. “It simply means that we will have to utilize the alternate plan.”
“By way of Paris?” Froman asked.
“By way of Paris.”
“Impossible, also! It can be arranged to perfection, so far as reaching Paris is concerned. But from then on—” Froman shook his head.
“I gained something of an inspiration this afternoon, after I had talked with Helmsworth,” Noyes said. “I did not intend to tell you about it until after I had done the preliminary work.
“I have found the very man we need” — the old lawyer smiled cunningly — “and I expect him here within the next hour.”
“Who is he?” demanded Froman.
“You will learn that later,” answered Noyes, with a cryptic smile.
Froman seemed piqued by the lawyer’s mysterious attitude. He began to protest, but Noyes stopped him with a gesture.
“Let us change the subject,” suggested the attorney. “Tell me why you came here tonight.”
“I am worried,” admitted Froman sourly. “I have been worried since last night. Bad luck seems to have followed me. I lost one of my most trusted men, and I cannot account for it!”
Noyes raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“I did away with Holtmann,” declared Froman in a matter-of-fact tone. “I told you last night that I intended to. I learned all he knew, and there was no use keeping him. But I lost Sergoff, in the bargain, and I cannot understand how it happened.
“I put poison in Holtmann’s food” — Froman was speaking in a calm, explanatory way — “and Sergoff was to go down and view the body. He went; and when he didn’t return, I went down and found him dead.”
“Holtmann or Sergoff?”
“Both!” declared Froman. “The poison finished Holtmann; but Sergoff was brutally slain. His neck was broken, and his head dashed against the floor.”
“Holtmann must have killed him,” said Noyes. “I see no mystery there.”
“The evidence supports your theory,” responded Froman. “The position of the bodies showed that a struggle must have taken place between the two men. But the whole situation is incredible.
“Picture this: Holtmann so weak and helpless he had scarcely strength enough to eat when I left him, and Sergoff armed and powerful. I would not have believed that any two men of far greater strength than Holtmann could have combined to beat Sergoff to death.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Noyes, “it was due to the effect of the poison. Holtmann may have experienced an agony that gave him superhuman strength.”
“I believe you are right!” returned Froman, the idea occurring to him for the first time. “Yes, that must be the explanation. Nevertheless” — Froman shook his head seriously — “I feel sure that it is an evil omen. Perhaps you think I am superstitious. If I am, it is because my superstitions bear fruit.
“I feel convinced that our well-calculated plan is due to fail. They are waiting in Moscow for action. They want it now. We cannot wait!”
RISING, Froman began to pace the floor nervously. This man was a paradox. He had calmly taken human life in a most insidious and gruesome manner; yet his nerves were cracking under the strain of inactivity.
Parker Noyes sensed his companion’s disturbed condition and spoke reassuringly.
“By action,” he said, “I suppose you mean action in Moscow? So long as you know the work has been completed there, I presume you will be satisfied. Am I not correct?”
“You are,” said Froman decisively. “I should like to send word that our men may proceed any time — to know that they are free to act — to avoid this dependence upon Helmsworth.
“You recall that my scheme of using Paris as a temporary base was founded on that thought. But from Paris to America has proven an insurmountable obstacle.”
“It was an obstacle,” smiled Noyes. “I think that it will no longer remain one. My plan involves a new person, but one who will prove quite as reliable as Helmsworth. In fact, I am not eliminating Helmsworth. He has his place in this arrangement.
“I am glad that you are here, Froman, because I can speak more freely with my next visitor. I have a very excellent arrangement, which will enable you to check on what I say, and advise me whether to proceed or not. I shall show you that, when the time arrives.”
“I am willing to rely upon you,” agreed Froman. “After all, your mind has been the directing one. When I first thought of my gigantic scheme, I lacked method by which to put it into practice.
“Every suggestion that you have made, every action that you have ordered, has worked to perfection, so far. You know the situation as well as I know it. I have one group of connections; you have another. Frankly I am worried. All my methods are ready to be utilized. They need your directing hand.”
Parker Noyes smiled with satisfaction. These two men formed a remarkable contrast, despite the fact that they were comrades in crime.
Frederick Froman was stern-faced and inflexible, although he now professed nervousness. Parker Noyes was still the kindly, gray-haired man; even his smile of malicious satisfaction was benign and fatherly.
Before the conversation could be resumed, there was a rap at the door. The lawyer answered and found his servant standing in the hall. A few low words were spoken, then Noyes closed the door and turned to Froman.
“Come,” said Noyes.
He led the way to one of the massive bookcases and pressed the side of a shelf. The entire bookcase swung outward, revealing a hollow space.
“This is quite as interesting as the entrance to your torture dungeon,” remarked Noyes with a smile. “You will note the peculiarity of these shelves. This upper shelf” — he indicated a row of books— “is arranged so that you can see through from the back. Should you desire to signal me, press this button. I will see the signal. One press will mean to end the conversation; two to continue. When I pause, it will mean I am awaiting your signal.”
Frederick Froman stepped into the narrow compartment. The old lawyer closed the bookcase. It clicked into place, completely concealing the man behind it.
Parker Noyes resumed his seat at the desk. He waited quietly until there was another rap at the door. He ordered the visitor to come in. A man entered, and Noyes ushered him to a seat at the opposite side of the desk, so that his back was turned toward the bookcase which shielded Froman.
The visitor was David Tholbin.