The Plot Master

CHAPTER XIII IN WASHINGTON

AT nine o’clock the next morning, Harry Vincent was seated by the window of a room in a Washington hotel. Smoking a cigarette, The Shadow’s agent watched the passing traffic along a broad boulevard. A smile showed on Harry’s lips.

The fray aboard the Northern Express had been explained to the satisfaction of the law. The train had steamed into Washington one hour late; but Harry, Cliff and the other two passengers in the lounge car had been cleared of all responsibility. More than that, they had earned the commendation of the sheriff in the town at which they had stopped.

A newspaper which lay on Harry’s writing table carried two headlined stories. One concerned the disappearance of Commander Joseph Dadren. It was believed that the former naval officer had crashed in some wooded district. The other story told of the holdup aboard the Northern Express. Neither the bandits nor their accomplices had been identified.

That was the reason for Harry’s smile. He had concealed the fact that he was in the employ of Commander Dadren. He wondered what the newspapers would say should they learn that Hasker — mechanic missing with the lost flier — was one of the bandits who had been killed in the fight aboard the train.

The public was not to know of this connection. There was one man, however, who must be informed. That was Senator Ross Releston. Arriving at the Union Station, the night before, Harry had gained a note, thrust in his hand by some one passing in the crowded train shed. A message from The Shadow, ordering him to this hotel.

Here, Harry had found a room reserved for him; a new note on the writing desk. Further orders from The Shadow. Harry was to call on Senator Releston this morning, to deliver the envelope from Commander Dadren.

Senator Releston lived at the Hotel Barlingham. Leaving his own hotel, Harry hailed a taxi and stepped aboard with his precious briefcase.

The driver started off along a diagonal avenue, sped for a dozen blocks through a network of streets that bewildered Harry. Then the cab swung two-thirds of the distance around a parklike circle and took to another avenue. It stopped in front of the Hotel Barlingham.

THE hotel, although modern, was older than most of the large establishments that Harry had seen in Washington. Conveniently situated in the Northwest District, it was close to the centers of activity. This had probably recommended the hotel to Senator Releston, together with the fact that the avenue in front of the Barlingham was less traveled and more quiet than other thoroughfares.

The lobby was ornate, but rather antiquated. At the desk, Harry learned that the senator’s apartment was on the sixth floor. As he rode up in a jerky elevator, Harry wondered why Releston had chosen so old an establishment. He learned the reason when he arrived on the sixth floor.

When he rang a bell at the door of Room 642, Harry was admitted by a plainly dressed servant. He found himself in a large lounge room, which apparently served as a waiting room, for doors led off in every wall. Glancing through one opened portal, Harry saw an inner hallway with more doors.

It was evident that the Hotel Barlingham was specially arranged with many-roomed apartments. It afforded space that the more modern hotels could not provide except at exorbitant rates.

The servant stood waiting, while Harry looked about. Then the man inquired:

“Your name, sir?”

“Mr. Vincent,” replied Harry.

“You have an appointment with Senator Releston?” asked the servant.

“Not exactly,” returned Harry. “Simply inform him that I have come from Commander Joseph Dadren.”

At that moment, a tall, stoop-shouldered man was passing through the inner hall. The fellow caught Harry’s words and stepped into the waiting room. His long, pointed face was quizzical. He spoke to the servant.

“Who is this gentleman?” inquired the newcomer. “Has he told you his business, Smedley?”

“He comes from Commander Dadren,” responded the servant.

“Then I shall talk to him, Smedley,” decided the stoop-shouldered man. “You may go.”

As soon as Smedley had departed, the lanky man turned to Harry Vincent. He introduced himself as he extended his hand.

“My name is Stollart,” he announced. “I am Senator Releston’s secretary. You are from Cedar Cove?”

“Yes.”

“And your name is—”

“Harry Vincent.”

“Wait here.” Stollart paused to glance at the briefcase under Harry’s arm. “I believe that the senator will see you.”

Harry sat down in a comfortable chair. He waited for about one minute. Then Stollart returned and requested him to follow. They went into the little hallway, turned left and came into a room that was furnished like an office.

A gray-haired man was seated behind a desk. His face was kindly in expression, yet it possessed a ruggedness that Harry noted instantly. Senator Ross Releston had steely eyes that showed him to be a man of determination. Rising to greet his visitor, he delivered a handshake that was viselike. Then the senator turned to introduce a man who was standing by the desk.

HARRY VINCENT stared as he recognized a square, firm face. Sharp eyes met his gaze, then twinkled as a slight smile appeared upon lips that were ordinarily set and sober. Harry knew this visitor in Senator Releston’s office.

“Vic Marquette!” exclaimed Harry. “You are here—”

“In behalf of the Secret Service,” returned Marquette, as Harry paused. “For the same purpose that brings you, Vincent. Matters concerning the disappearance of Commander Joseph Dadren.”

“You men have met before?” inquired Releston, in a tone of surprise.

“Yes,” returned Vic, dryly. “On several occasions. Particularly at a place called Death Island, where Vincent was the confidential secretary of Professor Arthur Whitburn.”

“Ah! Commander Dadren’s friend.”

“So I understand. Am I correct, Vincent, in assuming that you met Dadren through Whitburn?”

“Yes,” nodded Harry, in reply to Vic Marquette’s question. “Professor Whitburn recommended me to Commander Dadren. I was at Cedar Cove, serving as the commander’s secretary. I spoke to him yesterday morning, just before he took off on his flight to Washington.”

“He gave you a message for me?” inquired Releston, anxiously.

“More than that,” replied Harry. “He entrusted to me the plans for his new submarine. I have them here, in this briefcase.”

Senator Releston had seated himself behind the desk. He came to his feet when he heard Harry’s statement. He reached for the envelope that Harry withdrew from the briefcase. Eagerly, he ripped it open and drew forth pages of well-inked diagrams.

“Here they are, Marquette!” exclaimed the senator, as he went through the heavy pages. “Apparently Dadren was too wise to risk them in an airplane flight. He must have scented danger. Dadren is a clever man.”

SPREADING the plans upon the desk, the senator opened a small envelope that had come with them. He read the message that he found within. His face clouded for the moment.

Harry, Vic and Stollart watched Releston’s change of expression.

“An odd situation,” stated the senator, as he began to gather up the sheets of plans. “It would have been best if Commander Dadren had entrusted all of his diagrams to Vincent. We would then hold them in their entirety.”

“Some of the plans are missing?” inquired Marquette.

“According to the note,” replied the senator, “these plans are incomplete. We must, however, give credit to Commander Dadren for his cleverness. This diagram, for instance” — he examined a sheet and passed it to Vic — “is lacking in certain important details.”

“Why?” questioned the Secret Service operative.

“Because,” returned Releston, referring to the note, “part of the plan was done on transparent paper. Commander Dadren made only this single set; but unless the transparent sheets are placed upon the others, the plans are useless.

“Commander Dadren tells me, in his message, that he is bringing the necessary tracings. Until we have them, we have nothing. At the same time, if the commander has fallen into evil hands, his enemies are thwarted.

“They have captured plans that look like duplicates. Actually, they have only gained the missing portions of the diagrams. It is a stalemate, gentlemen. What the consequences may be is something that I can not venture to predict.”

“I can,” put in Vic Marquette. “This will work out well, senator. I came here because I suspected that Commander Dadren had been taken prisoner by unscrupulous enemies. I have been wondering whether or not he was still alive. Now I know he is.”

“Because of these incomplete plans?”

“Yes. They won’t harm Dadren until they get these plans to go along with the others. Probably they’re puzzled, wondering whether Dadren’s tracings are fake or genuine. He’s probably smart enough to keep them guessing. Meantime, senator, we can turn these plans over to the Navy Department.”

“No,” replied Releston, shaking his head. “Commander Dadren states that he does not want that done until he adds the tracings. Read the note for yourself, Marquette.”

Vic looked annoyed when he faced the firm-visaged senator.

Releston smiled. Rising, he went to a corner of the office and drew back a curtain to reveal the steel door of a vault.

“This is my strong-room,” he announced. “A bank in my home city was installing a larger vault. I purchased the old door and had it brought here. The closet into which it opens is metal-lined and protected with alarms.

“No one knows the combination but myself. I change it frequently and I allow no one in here while I am opening the vault. You may rest assured, Marquette, that Commander Dadren’s plans will be quite safe while they are here.”

“You are sure that no one can enter—”

“My subordinates can all be trusted. Stollart here, is thoroughly reliable. My servants — Smedley and Williston — are quite trustworthy. Stollart” — Releston turned to the secretary — “conduct Mr. Marquette and Mr. Vincent to another room while I put away the plans.”

THE secretary led the way out into the little hall. Instead of taking Harry and Vic into the waiting room, he continued onward and ushered them into a living room. Vic looked about and noted a bolted door.

“Where does that lead?” he questioned. “Out into the main hall on the floor?”

“Yes,” replied Stollart. “This room is an extension of the senator’s suite.”

“Then any one could enter by that door.”

“Hardly. It is always kept bolted.”

While Vic Marquette paced about, Harry Vincent sat down in a chair by the window. Stollart stood at the side door of the room.

Then came a call from the senator’s office. Releston had put away the plans. He was summoning the other men back.

“Go into the office, Stollart,” suggested Vic. “Tell Senator Releston that I am talking with Vincent. We will join him later.”

Stollart hesitated.

“Orders from my superior,” added Vic. “I am questioning Vincent about conditions at Cedar Cove. Tell the senator he will have my full report.”

Stollart departed. Marquette closed the door to the inner hall. He came over by the window and spoke to Harry in a low tone.

“VINCENT,” said Vic, frankly, “this is not the first time our paths have crossed. I mentioned Death Island to the senator; I could have added other incidents. In fact, our last meeting was here in Washington, at the time of the embassy murders.”[2]

Harry nodded.

“You are an agent of The Shadow,” continued Vic, quietly. “He has aided me in the past. I know that he must have arranged for you to be at Cedar Cove. On that account, I do not intend to cross-examine you.

“It was The Shadow who brought me here to-day. I received a telephone call last night. I recognized the voice of The Shadow. He gave me an important tip; to communicate with Senator Releston regarding the disappearance of Commander Dadren.

“When you walked in, I knew that The Shadow was playing his part in the game. I knew that he expected me to cooperate with you. I am ready to do so. With that understanding, I should like to hear anything that you are permitted to tell me.”

“That fits in with my instructions,” replied Harry, in a frank tone. “However, there is very little that I can tell you. I was watching affairs at Cedar Cove. I found nothing to report. Then I received instructions to prevent Commander Dadren from taking off with the plans.

“I faked a burglary in the commander’s laboratory. Dadren thought enemies were about; he gave me the plans that I brought here to Senator Releston. I thought that I was carrying the plans complete. But there is something else, Vic. That robbery on the Northern Express, last evening.”

“You were in the mess?”

“Yes — but I gave a name other than my own. I knew that Senator Releston would clear me if the sheriff learned that I had given a fictitious identity. Those bandits, Vic, were after the briefcase that I carried.”

“You knew them?”

“One of them.”

“Who was he?”

“Hasker, the mechanic who disappeared with Dadren.”

VIC MARQUETTE stopped his momentary pacing. He stared at Harry in amazement. This, indeed, was news to the Secret Service operative. At last, Vic found his voice.

“Great work, Vincent,” he commended. “Keeping that out of the news was a big help. They’ve got Dadren. It’s a sure bet they’ll be after the plans that the senator is keeping here. You heard me suggest that those plans be taken to the Navy Department.”

“I did. Do you intend to press the matter?”

“No. I have changed my opinion. I want the plans to remain here.”

It was Harry’s turn to show surprise. Vic Marquette smiled. Then the Secret Service man explained himself.

“The plans will stay here,” he declared. “So will you and I. We’ll work together watching them, along with these subordinates whom the senator trusts. A lot of visitors come here, Vincent. The senator has his regular offices over in the senate building, but he receives certain persons here.

“We’re going to check on every one who comes in. We’ll see if the crooks show themselves. When they do, we can trap them. I’ll arrange matters with my department. So far as The Shadow is concerned — well, it will be your job to keep in touch with him.”

Vic motioned Harry from his chair. The Secret Service man led the way back to Releston’s office. They found the senator seated at his desk. Stollart was in a corner, filing papers in a large cabinet.

“I’ve been talking with Vincent,” declared Marquette to Releston. “He tells me there was trouble at Cedar Cove the night before Commander Dadren left. I think that we may be due for trouble here, if you keep those plans in your safe.”

“I am following Commander Dadren’s request,” returned the senator. “He entrusted the plans to me and specified that they should be kept here until—”

“I know,” interposed Vic, bluntly. “But he also trusted Vincent; and I have my duties as a Secret Service operative. That’s why I’m suggesting that Vincent and I remain here while you are keeping the plans in your vault.”

“An excellent suggestion!” commended Releston, warmly. “I shall feel much more at ease if you two are on duty. Arrange that as you see fit, Marquette. This apartment is a large one. We shall have room for you.”

“Good!” declared Marquette. “One more point, senator. We have every reason to believe that Commander Dadren has been abducted. Vincent was aboard the Northern Express last night. One of the unidentified bandits was Hasker.”

“What! The mechanic with Dadren?”

“The same. He was in the plot. He came with the gang because he could point out Vincent. Those bandits were fakes. They were after the briefcase that contained the plans.”

“This seems incredible! Yet we can rely upon Vincent’s statement.”

“Exactly, senator. It’s a good break that the news was kept out of the newspapers. That’s why I want it all to remain quiet. Let the public think that Commander Dadren crashed.”

“But if he was actually kidnapped, the law should know—”

“The law does know. I shall report to my superior. Leave this to the Secret Service, senator. It’s our best chance to find Dadren.”

Senator Releston considered Vic’s statement. At last, he nodded his consent.

“For the present, Marquette,” he said, “I shall agree to your suggestion. If you fail to gain results, I shall reverse my decision. The case is in your hands for the time being.”

Vic Marquette smiled in satisfaction. He nodded as he turned to Harry Vincent. The game was on. Vic and Harry were installed. They had begun their duty as guardians at the spot where new crime must surely strike.