The Red Menace

CHAPTER XXVIII MASTER MINDS MEET

ON this particular night, a strange effect came over the professor within a few minutes after he had taken his medicine.

Harry Vincent had scarcely left the room, when the white-haired old man began to gasp. Then he leaned forward upon the desk. His eyes closed, and he was still.

The door opened, and a figure entered. It came with amazing silence, and Professor Whitburn would not have observed it, had his eyes been open.

The Shadow leaned over Professor Whitburn. He pressed the old man’s forehead; then felt his pulse.

The old inventor was not dead; he was simply the victim of a powerful opiate. The wrong pills had been left on his desk by Marsh; and the action had been performed with the definite purpose of rendering Professor Whitburn unconscious.

The Shadow moved away from the desk, and stood motionless. He was a strange figure, this mysterious man, as he stood there.

His broad-brimmed hat was pulled low, and his cloak obscured the lower part of his face. Only his eyes showed from the dark depths that hid his features.

Those eyes were searching. They looked keenly in every direction, as though trying to discover some secret of the professor’s study. They were looking for a hiding place; and they sought it in some unusual location.

They stopped upon a bookcase. There were several shelves in the bookcase, and above them was a thick molding that ran the entire length. It was ornamented with carved sections.

The Shadow stepped to the bookcase, and ran his hand along the molding. His hands appeared for the first time; they were thin, well-formed hands, with sensitive fingers that moved as though filled with a life of their own.

The fingers stopped on one spot; they pressed; then moved to the left. A portion of the molding went inward, and slid beneath the next section. The opening showed a strip of metal, with a tiny keyhole.

The Shadow went back to the desk. He carefully raised the old professor, and leaned him back in his chair.

The hands of The Shadow found the professor’s watch chain. There were keys on one end; but none of the keys were suited to the little lock. The Shadow removed the professor’s watch.

Now the black-cloaked man became suddenly intent. He was holding the watch in his right hand. His left was poised above.

THE SHADOW was listening. His keen ears had caught a slight sound. His left hand moved beneath his cloak. Then it reappeared, and held a peculiar position, the fingers slightly apart. The right hand skillfully removed the watch from the chain, and laid it on the desk.

The Shadow stepped back, his eyes still intent upon the professor. He turned toward the door, and as he did, the door swung inward noiselessly.

A man stood there; a man whose face was obscured by a crimson mask. His hands wore red gloves; and one of them held a leveled automatic.

“Hands up!” came the command from the door.

The Shadow slowly raised his arms. He had apparently been caught unawares. The eyes beneath the mask were watching the figure in black; but they also seemed to look beyond; for they saw the opened molding of the bookcase.

“Do you know me?” questioned the masked man, in a harsh, sarcastic voice.

The Shadow did not reply.

“I am the Red Envoy,” said the man with the crimson mask. “You did not expect me.”

Still no reply.

“So you are The Shadow?” The Red Envoy’s tones carried bitter irony. “The Shadow — whose identity no one knows. I see that you have aided me.

“One of my agents told me to-night that he suspected the bookcase as the hiding place of Professor Whitburn’s papers; but he had not located the exact spot. I must thank you for your work.”

The masked man inclined his head in a short, quick bow. Still The Shadow was silent and unmoving, both his hands raised, slightly forward.

“A key is needed,” said the Red Envoy. “Where is it?” Receiving no reply, he added:

“Come. You would not have it said that The Shadow failed in his last experiment in master detection, would you?

“You have done half the work; finish the rest. For this” — the harsh voice spoke slowly and emphatically — “this is the last work you will ever do.”

The figure in the black cloak maintained its fixed position. It seemed to sway slightly, and the Red Envoy moved closer. His eyes were watching from beneath the crimson mask.

He knew that The Shadow was noted for his ability to dodge away from gunfire. But the range was short, now; there could be no escape.

“Ah!” The Red Envoy’s tone was one of triumph. “I see I have underestimated your ability. The professor’s watch is on the table. You placed it there. You have not yet opened it. Very well, I shall do that later.

“I know where the key is, now: between the back of the watch and an inner surface! Excellent. That enables me to do my work more quickly. A thin, flat key, within the watch.”

The Red Envoy was now gazing directly at The Shadow. He spoke again, and there was a note of finality in his voice.

“I do not know your purpose,” he said, “but it conflicts with mine. Therefore I intend to kill you. After I do so, I may take the trouble to learn who you are. But I may mention that I already have a very good idea of your identity.

“But before you die, let me inform you that I have detected the presence of your influence in many ways. I have looked forward to this meeting with you. I have also made excellent arrangements for just such a time.

“I expected that you would be here. My agents prepared for it. I myself have found time to accomplish several things before you came here.

“Your accomplice, Harry Vincent, was in the way. He interfered, and I deal quickly with those who seek to put themselves in my way.

“Beneath the cellar of this building is a room known as the submarine chamber. It is barred by a steel door, that opens with a combination. The only man living who knows that combination is Professor Whitburn, who lies there unconscious.

“Your friend — Harry Vincent — is in the submarine chamber. He has pleasant companionship in the person of a young lady who was formerly one of my agents, but who came here to warn him against me. I do not deal kindly with those who prove false to me.

“No power alive can save them; for water is pouring in upon them. They will live thirty minutes longer, perhaps.”

THE Red Envoy stopped abruptly. He was close to The Shadow now — not more than four feet away. The man in the black cloak had slumped; he seemed shorter than before. His upraised arms were drooping. His fingers were slowly closing.

“They will live thirty minutes longer,” said the Red Envoy. His words became very slow and distinct. “But they will outlive The Shadow by just thirty min — “

The left hand of The Shadow made a movement; the thumb and third finger snapped together. There was a flash of flame, and a sharp explosion, like a pistol shot, directly in front of the Red Envoy’s eyes.

The man staggered back, and threw his left arm across his face. Like Prokop, he had been momentarily stunned by the unexpected burst of flame.

(Note: When he recounted this portion of his chronicle, The Shadow raised his hand, snapped his fingers, and produced the very effect that I have described.

He informed me that it was an astonishing trick, known as “The Devil’s Whisper,” produced by the instantaneous action of two chemical compounds — one on the thumb; the other on the finger. The Shadow stated that he had improved the experiment, so that he was able to produce a most startling effect.

I have access to the chemical formula that will cause this amazing result; but I have refrained from publishing it because of its danger.

An inexperienced person runs great chance of serious injury when attempting this experiment. - Maxwell Grant.)

The crimson mask served as a partial protection against the blinding flare. The Red Envoy caught himself, as he encountered the edge of the desk, and promptly fired two shots at the spot where The Shadow had been.

But the man in black was no longer there. He had started toward the door as his opponent pressed the trigger.

Wheeling, the Red Envoy discharged two more bullets in the direction of the departing Shadow. But his eyes blinked beneath the red mask and the shots went wild.

The masked man closed the door of the study, and turned the key. Then he chuckled triumphantly. He knew where to find The Shadow, if he wanted him; and the man in black had gone to attempt the rescue of those who were in the submarine chamber.

It would be a futile attempt; yet it gave the Red Envoy the very opportunity he required. He had come to find the plans; they were now within his reach.

He had foiled The Shadow, even though that remarkable man had made a miraculous escape from certain death.

Working quickly, the Red Envoy pried open the back of the professor’s watch. He found the key, and unlocked the drawer. Reaching within, he seized a large envelope that lay there.

One minute later, the only person in the study was Professor Whitburn. The old professor still reclined in his chair, with the semblance of death upon his features.