HARRY VINCENT FINDS TROUBLE
Pondering over the strange disappearance that he had witnessed in the cellar of Blair Windsor’s house, Harry Vincent spent the next morning in a quandary. He seemed to have encountered an unsolvable riddle. The more he considered it, the more perplexed he became.
When early afternoon arrived, he had reached a state of mental desperation. Finding an excuse to drive to the town, he went away in his car.
Choosing an obscure field, he set up his wireless equipment and sent a message. He waited a long while, but no reply came.
It never occurred to Harry that he should have returned to Blair Windsor’s home, to listen in on station WGG at three o’clock. For once he misunderstood The Shadow’s directions. Orders that came from The Shadow were to be obeyed until countermanded. But Harry Vincent, this time, was in a bewildered condition.
He sent his message at one o’clock in the afternoon, stating where he was and what had happened. He neglected to request an immediate reply; simply stating that he was returning to Windsor’s home. And, waiting, he failed to get back in time for the message that came from WGG.
Harry worried more before dinner time. He had sent The Shadow the names of Perry Quinn and Bert Crull, hoping to learn which man to watch. And he was in a quandary.
At six o’clock, with scarcely any thought, Harry tuned in on station WNX. Every one was in the living room at the time. Dinner was to be served in half an hour.
Five minutes of the radio program went by, and Harry heard nothing of interest. Perry Quinn arose and strolled out to the porch. Harry decided to join him.
Scarcely had Harry left the room before the voice of the radio announcer began to talk about New York City. Certain of his words carried a definite emphasis.
“Those who come to see New York are amazed at the extent of the high-speed transit system. You can travel for miles along the double-tracked el, and in the four-tracked subway—”
Bert Crull looked up suddenly. Surprise was on his face.
He had been engrossed in a newspaper. Although he had not distinguished the words of the announcer, he had a vague impression that the voice had spelled his name.
“C — R - U — double L—”
The statement stood out in his mind. He listened to the radio. The announcer was discussing Central Park.
“What’s that fellow talking about?” asked Crull.
“New York City,” replied Blair Windsor.
“That’s funny,” said Crull. “When I get reading I only hear snatches of conversation. I couldn’t figure what the man was saying.”
He tried to dismiss the subject from his mind, although it puzzled him. He laid the paper aside, and continued to listen to the radio.
* * *
Harry Vincent and Perry Quinn came in from the porch. Dinner was ready, and the six men went into the dining room.
During the meal, two persons were silent and thoughtful. One was Harry Vincent. He was wondering which man he should watch: Crull or Quinn.
Had he heard the message that was intended for him, he would have chosen the former. Instead, he finally decided that Quinn should be the object of his observation.
The other meditative diner was Bert Crull. He kept pondering over the voice of the announcer that had seemed to spell his name. He finally decided that he had imagined the whole matter.
The evening was uneventful. Buckman and Harper went to the pool room. The other four indulged in a game of bridge. This was to Harry Vincent’s liking. It enabled him to watch both Perry Quinn and Bert Crull.
He contrived to tune in on WNX at nine o’clock. No message came. He wondered what had happened to The Shadow. He did not realize that he had missed two messages: one at three, the other at six.
The game ended at eleven o’clock.
Blair Windsor had arisen early in the morning. He was tired. He decided to go to bed. Perry Quinn retired a short time later. Buckman and Harper were still playing pool. Crull decided to sit up and read.
An idea occurred to Harry Vincent. He was determined to learn something of the mystery that lay in this house. He yawned and told Crull that he was going to turn in.
Leaving the room, he went to the stairs, but turned into an unlighted passage that was out of view.
By a circling route, he reached the head of the cellar stairs. He stole down and found his way to the corner where the man had disappeared the night before. There he waited.
An hour went by. Then Harry’s patience was rewarded. Some one came softly down the cellar stairs.
Harry could hear the man approaching through the darkness. Breathlessly he waited. The person was now close to him. He could hear the man fumbling among the shelves, not more than a yard away.
Then came silence. Harry waited for fully five minutes. Then he turned on his flashlight. He was alone!
This second occurrence of the mystery was annoying. Harry knew now that some secret lay in this place. He examined the shelves carefully, but found nothing.
How had the man disappeared?
Who was it?
Could it be The Shadow?
Harry felt that it was inadvisable to stay in the cellar, now that he had missed his opportunity. He went upstairs. Peering around a corner, he saw Bert Crull still reading in the living room.
Harry now suspected Perry Quinn; and this bore out his suspicions, unless — as he had conjectured before — The Shadow had entered the game.
Harry entered the living room. Crull looked up in surprise.
“Thought you had gone to bed,” he remarked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” said Harry. “Think I’ll take a walk outside. Want to come along?”
“Guess not,” said Crull. “I want to finish this book.”
As Harry Vincent went out the front door, Bert Crull closed the book and sat silently, with a thoughtful expression on his face.
* * *
It was a dark night outside. Harry strolled down to the road, and an uncontrollable desire seized him. He suddenly determined to visit the old farmhouse on the other side of the little hill. He decided to go around by the road.
Reaching the farmhouse, he noted a light in the second-story window. He climbed the shed roof, and cautiously strained forward to a position which enabled him to see within. Two men were there. Harry could see them through the space at the bottom of the lowered shade.
One was the old man whom he had seen before. The other was Vernon, Blair Windsor’s servant!
This was a startling surprise. Harry could not hear what the men were saying, for the window was closed. Vernon arose, as though to leave. Harry dropped to the ground.
His eyes noted a cellar window. He tried it, and it opened to his touch. He slipped in, and turned on his flashlight. He saw a stairway leading up into the house. He turned off the light as he reached the bottom step.
There he stopped and dropped beside the steps. A door had opened above.
Some one was coming down in the darkness. Harry heard two whispered voices. One sounded like that of Vernon. The door closed above; but the one person still came downward.
Harry heard the footsteps go across the cellar floor. Silence followed. Harry switched on his light.
This was a small cellar — a single room, yet it was entirely empty. There was an open bin in the corner. Harry investigated it. It was backed with wood against the wall.
Puzzling over the situation, Harry began to form a theory.
A man had disappeared from the cellar of Blair Windsor’s house. A man had disappeared here. The inference was that a passage lay between the two buildings.
Vernon was probably the person who had disappeared from Windsor’s home. He had come to visit the old man in the farmhouse. Now he had returned.
Harry was on the point of investigating the bin, when it occurred to him that an inspection of Windsor’s cellar would be more suitable. There, at least, he might have some excuse for prowling. Here he was a trespasser.
He turned out his light and climbed from the cellar window. As he arose to his feet something fell upon him from the darkness The quickness of the surprise attack overcame him before he could even gasp.
He received a stunning blow that rendered him almost incapable of motion. His arms were pinned beneath him; a cloth was thrust in his mouth.
Handcuffs clicked on his wrists. His captor was sitting on him so that he could not move his legs. Quick hands strapped Harry’s ankles.
Then the gag in Vincent’s mouth was securely fastened. He was half-lifted and half-dragged across the yard.
Harry thought for a moment that he was to be taken in the farmhouse. But instead, he was carried to an automobile.
The powerful man who had seized him thrust him into the back seat of the open car. They started along the rough road. Harry was jounced helplessly back and forth.
Who had captured him?
Where was he going?
Harry’s dazed mind could not answer either question.
Hopeless thoughts flashed through his mind. He had failed in his work. Harry was a prisoner. He had no way to notify The Shadow of his plight.