The Eyes of the Shadow

CHAPTER XVIII. FELLOWS LEARNS SOMETHING

Claude Fellows reclined comfortably in the cushions of the limousine and puffed a cigar in contentment. It was Friday evening; he was on his way to a party in New Jersey.

The chubby insurance broker had many wealthy friends. Most important of them all was Lamont Cranston, a millionaire who owned a fine estate in New Jersey, twenty miles outside of New York.

Cranston was holding the party to-night. He had sent one of his cars — chauffeur included — to bring Fellows.

Cranston was a good friend to have. Fellows had known him back in the days when the insurance business had been less prosperous. The millionaire had always given him encouragement. The only trouble was that Cranston was so often away. Like other persons of wealth, he apparently went South in the winter and North in the summer. It was said that he often traveled to Europe.

At any rate, it was an event when the big house in New Jersey was open and guests were invited.

Fellows had always felt that Cranston might have helped him out of his financial trouble a few years ago.

But that had occurred when the millionaire was away. Fellows had pulled out of his predicament, thanks to The Shadow. That had been his first experience with his mysterious employer.

Fellows had performed his services faithfully and well. He no longer had worries. Checks came in regularly, even when his insurance business was slow. He had never been able to identify The Shadow; now he was no longer curious about the matter.

To-day he had sent in a most important report. Harry Vincent had come to his office and had told of an interview with Bruce Duncan. Not only had Fellows learned of Isaac Coffran's fiendish schemes and the secret of Bruce Duncan's uncle; he had listened to a well-thought-out theory that Vincent had evolved.

All these matters had gone in the morning report. The stenographer had taken the envelope to the dingy office on Twenty-third Street. A reply had been received. It was a simple one — instructions to Harry Vincent to wait with Bruce Duncan at the Metrolite Hotel until further notice.

Vincent had seemed a bit impatient. But Fellows had taken the whole affair very calmly, and his soothing advice had quieted the eager young man. It was evident that The Shadow intended to think matters over carefully. The situation was unquestionably a difficult one.

The limousine had passed through the Holland Tunnel. It had traveled several miles into New Jersey and was now running along an unimportant highway. The chauffeur pulled up at a small service station.

"Always get my gasoline here, sir," he explained to Fellows, opening the rear door of the car to do so.

"I have no objections." The insurance broker smiled.

The chauffeur closed the door. Fellows shut his eyes and yawned. As he did, he thought he heard the door open and close again. Probably the chauffeur had not shut it tightly the first time.

The limousine was moving again. The insurance broker was completely alone in back; in fact, he was entirely by himself, for the glass partition was closed behind the chauffeur.

"This is really comfortable," he said aloud.

"I agree with you," replied a voice.

Fellows was startled. The voice had come from the corner of the car. It was black there, for there were no lights along the road. But Fellows was not surprised simply because he heard the voice; it was the tone of the voice that startled him. He had heard it before — long ago — that weird whisper. It had always seemed friendly to him, but he could well imagine it as a voice that could create dread apprehension.

"The Shadow!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," came the sibilant whisper. "To-day's report was excellent."

"Thank you," replied Fellows.

"Realizing that you would be alone," said the voice of The Shadow, "I took this opportunity to join you on your journey. I have been thinking matters over. Listen carefully while I tell you what our new plans will be. You can give Vincent his instructions tomorrow."

Fellows leaned back in the seat and shut his eyes. He felt more accustomed to that strange, whispered voice. It was low but clear. Every word seemed to impress itself upon his mind.

"The fourth man, picked for death, will reach the meeting place on next Tuesday. At ten o'clock a train leaves Harrisburg — southwest, through the Cumberland Valley. I believe the meeting place is in that direction — perhaps among the surrounding mountains.

"Before next Tuesday the place must be discovered. You may intrust that work to two men — Harry Vincent and Bruce Duncan.

"You will receive a memorandum to-morrow morning by nine o'clock."

The big car turned off the road and stopped between stone gateposts. A keeper appeared in the glare of the lights and opened the iron gates.

The limousine swung up the driveway. It stopped at the entrance to Cranston's mansion. The chauffeur opened the door on the side where The Shadow sat. The porch lights shone fully into the interior of the automobile. The insurance broker could see the entire seat as he stepped out.

The car was empty!

At some instant — probably when they had stopped at the gates — The Shadow had disappeared, silently and invisibly.

Fellows could not believe his senses. He almost doubted that he had had a companion in the limousine.

He would have considered it all a dream, but for those clear thoughts and statements that still lingered in his mind.

He went leisurely into the house. He gave his hat and coat to a waiting servant. He was ushered into the large living room.

Lamont Cranston greeted him with a smile. The millionaire was a comparatively young man, but his face seemed a trifle old. In fact it was almost masklike, as though his features possessed an artificial mold — a surface over a face beneath.

Cranston's eyes were twinkling in a kindly manner.

"Glad to see you, Claude," he said.

"Thanks for sending the car," replied Fellows.

"That's all right." The millionaire laughed. "But I've been worrying about you, old man. Rather a dull trip it must have been — coming out here all alone."

"I didn't mind it."

"That's good." The millionaire's face took on an almost solemn expression. "Yet it must have been rather lonely for you. So I'll send a few of the other guests back with you to-night. It will be more interesting than to sit all alone — alone with darkness — and shadows."