want assurance that it will be delivered."
"By whom?"
"By yourself."
"To whom?"
"To a man whose name I shall reveal along with my own, if you agreed upon the
compromise."
"Name the intermediary."
"Very well," declared Hildrow. "I shall do so. You must agree never to mention his name in
connection with your abduction. I rely upon your honor."
"That is odd," scoffed Dadren. "You are no man of honor."
"But you are," returned Hildrow. "Do you consent to keep silence if I tell you the name of the
man who will receive your payment?"
Again, Dadren meditated. He could see no occasion to refuse this request. Quietly, he said:
"I agree."
"The man's name," announced Hildrow, "is Eric Hildrow. He is a friend of Senator Releston.
An expert on international trade conditions."
"I have heard of him."
"You will secretly pay him the money that the senator gives you."
"Yes."
"I trust you, commander," said Hildrow, seriously. "Therefore, I shall reveal my true identity."
Hildrow ripped the disguise from his face. Dadren was amazed at the change. He studied
the pallid countenance that the beard had hidden. Hildrow, in turn watched every detail of
Dadren's expression.
"Who are you?" questioned Dadren.
"Eric Hildrow," replied the plotter.
THE revelation produced a marked effect upon the commander. Dadren was astonished at
the depths to which Hildrow had sunk. He was also impressed with the belief that the man's
plight must be desperate. With it, he realized that he had promised not to mention Hildrow's
name.
That was Hildrow's crafty touch, the gaining of that promise. It showed him to be a trickster,
even when he was laying his cards upon the table. It brought conviction to Dadren's mind.
Hildrow observed it. Producing pen and paper, he passed them to Dadren.
"I shall dictate the note, commander," he declared in a weary, almost apologetic tone.
Dadren took the pen. He wrote the note, word for word, as Hildrow gave it, following the
pattern that the plotter had previously outlined. Hildrow read the letter when Dadren had
finished. Blotting the ink, he enclosed the message in an envelope and asked Dadren to
address it.
"I shall mail this letter," announced Hildrow. "For the present, however you will have to
remain here, commander. I shall order Korsch to make your stay as pleasant as possible."
He gathered up the plans and placed them in the portfolio. He tucked the little case under
his arm and made another apologetic statement.
"I must retain these," he said, "until I know that the terms have been accepted. After that,
commander, I shall return them to you. That will be on the day of your release."
Dadren watched Hildrow put on his false beard. Then the plotter called for Korsch. The
fellow entered. Hildrow used a disguised tone to instruct him that Commander Dadren was
to receive friendly treatment despite his imprisonment.
Then Hildrow left. He joined the man in the coupe and was driven back to Washington. He
transferred to a cab near the outside of the city. Later, he arrived at the quiet apartment
house.
MARLING was waiting when Hildrow walked in. He saw his chief remove the disguise. He
listened while Hildrow, chuckling, gave him the details of the conference with Dadren.
Marling stood astounded while Hildrow produced the letter that the commander had written.
"Mail it, Marling," ordered Hildrow.
"I can't," protested Marling. "Have you gone crazy, chief? Sinking the whole works for
twenty-five grand? Leaving yourself in Dadren's hands? Say, if I mail this letter, it means -"
"It means," interrupted Hildrow, with a chuckle, "that we shall gain success. Once that letter
is mailed, Marling, those missing plans will practically be in my hands. Are you fool enough
to think that I talked straight to Dadren?
"Listen: While I made my terms, I watched him. I studied his face until I knew it as well as my
own. I have his photograph, here in this table. It is an excellent likeness, the one that Hasker
sent us from Cedar Cove. That is all I need."
A look of understanding began to dawn on Marling's thick-set face. Again, Hildrow chuckled.
He saw Marling grin and nod.
"You've got it," laughed Hildrow. "Mail the letter and come back. I shall give you the details
on your return. A tip to Stollart will be easy. After that the game is mine."
As Marling hastened from the apartment, Eric Hildrow strolled to the window. He lighted a
panatela, then stared out toward the city. A mile away he saw the squatty outline of the Hotel
Barlingham.
A twisted smile appeared upon the plotter's face. Eric Hildrow had bluffed Commander
Joseph Dadren. The next to fall for the game would be Senator Ross Releston. And with
them, The Shadow would be deceived.
So thought Eric Hildrow.
CHAPTER XVI. TERMS ARE MET
"LOOK at this, Marquette."
Senator Releston passed a letter to the Secret Service operative. Releston was seated at
his desk, opening the morning mail. Vic was close by; Stollart was at the filing cabinet in the
corner.
"From Dadren?" queried Vic, in amazement.
"Looks like it," responded the senator. "The signature appears genuine. Come here,
Stollart; perhaps you can help us."
The stoop-shouldered secretary approached and studied the letter. He nodded; then went to
the filing cabinet and produced other letters. He brought them to the desk. These letters
were under Dadren's file; though typewritten, they had the signature. It matched.
"Call Vincent," said Releston to Stollart. "I want to talk to him."
The secretary went out and returned with Harry. Releston motioned the young man to a
chair. Referring to the letter, Releston began to speak.
"Here is a communication," he declared, "that was mailed in Washington late yesterday
afternoon. It purports to be from Commander Joseph Dadren.
"He wants me to guarantee twenty-five thousand dollars for his release. I am to make the
payment as he will tell me. I have merely to refrain from issuing a statement that the
commander has been kidnapped.
"Such action—or lack of action—will satisfy his captors. If I agree, Commander Dadren will
come here a free man, prior to Thursday noon, bringing with him the complete set of missing
tracings that belong with the plans."
"You're wrong there, senator," put in Marquette. "Read that last part again. It says that he will
bring his set of duplicate plans."
"You're right," declared the senator, referring to the letter. "But I don't see that there is any
difference, Marquette."
"There's plenty of difference," asserted Vic. "Somebody dictated that letter to Dadren. The
fellows who have got him don't know that the tracings go with the other drawings. They think
he simply had duplicates."
"An excellent point, Marquette," approved Releston. "It is your turn, Vincent. You have heard
Marquette's criticism. Tell me: as Dadren's secretary, does this sound like a letter that the
commander would have written?"
HARRY took the message and read it carefully. He shook his head.
"Commander Dadren would not have used this wording," said Harr
y. "He copied it from
some one's dictation. There is proof of it. The letter was written slowly and carefully.
Commander Dadren usually scrawled messages in haste."
"Ah! You believe that Dadren actually wrote the note?"
"Absolutely! It compares with certain expense sheets that he made out for me to copy.
Those were items that he took time to write with care."
"There's a point, senator," added Vic. "If they'd been faking Dadren's writing, they'd
probably have picked one of his scrawly samples. Don't you think so, Vincent?"
"Probably," agreed Harry. "I have the expense sheets with me. We can make a
comparison."
Ten minutes later, the expense sheets lay beside the note that Dadren had written. Senator
Releston was nodding in conviction that the letter was genuine. The other three men agreed
with him.
"That settles it," asserted the senator, firmly. "We shall meet the terms. We shall expect
Dadren's arrival. All of us. The senate is not in session. I shall spend all my time here."
"Count on me," put in Vic Marquette. "I'm not going to move out until Dadren shows up. You'll
be here, too, Vincent?"
"I have to go to the Navy Department," recalled Harry. "At three o'clock, Wednesday
afternoon. I'll be gone one hour. Merely to give a statement about the men employed at
Cedar Cove. The department may take over the commander's equipment."
"You'll be here practically all the time then," stated Vic Marquette. "We'll have Stollart with us
besides. Well, senator, I see it the way you do. Let's get Dadren safely here. Of course,
there's liable to be trouble about the money -"
"Not a bit," inserted Releston. "I shall pay it gladly. I would deliver twice that sum—four times
the sum—without a question. Provided that Dadren is delivered. I haven't seen the
commander for two years"- Releston paused reflectively—"but I should be able to recognize
him. Most of our negotiations were by correspondence."
"Has Stollart met him?" questioned Marquette.
"I don't think so," replied Releston. "Have you, Stollart?"
The secretary shook his head.
"I've only seen Dadren's photograph," remarked Vic. "But Vincent served as his secretary.
We'll count on you, Vincent -"
"Commander Dadren can identify himself," interrupted the senator. "Our plans are made.
We shall adopt a policy of the strictest secrecy. Inform no one else. Do nothing that may
frustrate this arrangement."
SHORTLY afterward, Senator Releston left for the senate building. Harry remained in the
office. Vic Marquette spoke to him.
"I'm going over to make a routine report," said the operative. "Stick around, Vincent, while
I'm gone."
Harry nodded. Vic departed, and not long afterward Stollart left the room.
When the secretary had gone, Harry sat down at the desk. Keeping an eye on the door, The
Shadow's agent drew a pen from his pocket and inscribed a report to The Shadow.
Going to the window, Harry folded the message and put it in an envelope. He made a slight
motion with his hand. The envelope flashed in the sunlight. Across the street, a man noted
the signal.
Harry thrust the envelope in his pocket and walked to the door. Stollart was not about, nor
were the servants, Smedley and Williston. Harry did not like to leave the office; he and Cliff
always stayed there, except when Senator Releston was on hand. But he felt sure that a
brief departure would cause no harm.
He went out through the waiting room and opened the front door of the apartment. Leaving
the door ajar, Harry headed for the elevators and loitered by the mail chute.
The man who had seen him from across the street was Cliff Marsland. Cliff would come up
on the elevator to the floor above; then descend by the stairway. That would be Harry's
opportunity to pass him the envelope. They had worked the stunt before.
BACK in the apartment, Stollart had returned to the office. The secretary's face showed
tenseness. Stollart was holding letters in his hand; he intended to tell Harry Vincent that he
was going out to mail them. But Stollart saw no sign of Harry.
Quickly, the secretary crossed the room. Seating himself by the desk, he called a number.
He knew that it was a pay booth in the Union Station. Some one was supposed to be on
hand to receive the call.
A ringing sound; then came a voice that Stollart had heard before, although he did not know
the speaker. It was Marling. He spoke a key-word that Stollart understood. Lips close to the
receiver, Stollart gave the news.
"All set," he whispered hoarsely. "They fell for it... The time for the deal will be Wednesday
afternoon, right after two o'clock. Vincent will be out. For an hour. Navy Department... No,
nothing important... Yes, he'd probably recognize Dadren... I'll be ready..."
Stollart dropped the receiver abruptly and moved over toward the filing cabinet. He had
heard the sound of a closing door. A few moments later, Harry Vincent sauntered into the
office. Harry had passed the report to Cliff. He had arrived too late, however, to catch
Stollart telephoning.
It was not long before Vic Marquette returned. Senator Releston came in later. The vigil had
begun. From now on, those in the know would await the promised arrival of Commander
Joseph Dadren.
Harry Vincent was satisfied. He had sent word to The Shadow. His report, though brief, had
missed no point.
But Harry Vincent was not the only one of the four watchers who felt that he had played an
important part. Stollart, the smug secretary, had also passed the word along. Another of Eric
Hildrow's traitors, Stollart had paved the way for the master plotter's coming stroke.
CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW LAUGHS
NIGHT. A light was glowing in the room of Henry Arnaud. But the occupant of that room was
not in view. The light came from a table lamp that held a heavy shade. The only sphere of
illumination lay beneath the lamp itself.
Hands appeared beneath the light. Long, white hands, with fingers that moved like detached
creatures. Upon one finger glittered a resplendent gem: The Shadow's girasol. That jewel
was the only token of identity that The Shadow wore.
Temporarily, this Washington hotel room had become The Shadow's sanctum. Here, The
Shadow was analyzing the purpose that lay behind the letter from Commander Dadren. The
Shadow had read Harry Vincent's report in its entirety.
Pen and paper beneath the light, The Shadow was inscribing written thoughts in ink of vivid
blue, that faded as soon as it had dried. This was The Shadow's method. His keen
deductions came readily from the moving pen.
Unlike Senator Releston and Vic Marquette, The Shadow was finding a catch in the terms
which Commander Dadren had suggested. He knew that the letter had been dictated. He
was looking for the ideas that lay behind it.
$25,000
The Shadow's hand inscribed the sum required. A soft laugh sounded from the gloom above
the lamp. The Shadow could see the reason for the sum specified. Eric Hildrow—the man
whose identity was yet unknown to The Shadow —had chosen that amount with a purpose.
He had picked the highest sum at which he thought Senator Releston would not balk. It was
not the money that he sought. The amount would
be trivial to so masterful a plotter. Man of
murder that he was, Eric Hildrow would have decided to kill Dadren rather than let him go at
so low a price.
Agreement
The single word appeared from The Shadow's pen. It told what lay behind Hildrow's
scheme. By getting Releston's accord, by lulling the senator to a belief that Dadren might be
released, the plotter had forestalled Releston's intention to notify the press.
Informant
Again, The Shadow laughed. How had the unknown plotter discovered that Releston was
about to spread the news? Why had he acted at the most crucial moment? There could be
only one answer: A spy in Releston's camp.
Stollart
The Shadow inscribed the name upon the blank space from which the preceding word had
faded. Polmore had been close to Professor Whitburn. Hasker had been Commander
Dadren's most trusted mechanic. It was obvious that Stollart was the only man in a position
to watch Senator Releston as closely as the master plotter required.
A pause. Then The Shadow's hand moved again. Slowly it inscribed two words; they told in
brief, the substance of Hildrow's game. They announced the only stake that the crooked
plotter could be after.
The plans
THE SHADOW'S deduction was well-calculated. He had noted an important item in Harry
Vincent's report. That was the fact that Dadren's letter had specified that the commander
would return bringing the "duplicate plans."
A crafty statement. The plotter had used it to fool Dadren. It had deceived Vic Marquette as
well. The Secret Service agent thought that the enemy had gained no inkling of the purpose
which Dadren's tracings were designed to serve.
But the Shadow, convinced that Stollart was a spy, saw clearly that Releston's secretary
must have informed the master plotter of the letter that Dadren had enclosed with the plans
themselves. Stollart, like Harry and Vic, had been present when Releston had told the story
of the tracings.
How did the unknown schemer intend to gain the plans from the senator's vault? The place
was too well watched. Stollart, a spy and not a fighter, could not be depended upon to gain
them. Harry's description of Releston's strong room had satisfied The Shadow.
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