Chapter 21

SHADOWS

It required some little time for me to determine that my shadow was one of the "Japanese"; for it was a most intangible and elusive shadow. Whatever else I might think of these worthies, I could not deny that their ability to hang on a man's trail, and at the same time keep themselves well-nigh invisible, amounted positively to genius. With all my doubling back and lurking in doorways around corners, the fellow never came up to where I could get a good view of him.

Of course it occurred to me that here was a chance to attempt a capture. But was it? The fellow was so slippery and artful that I risked a greater chance of losing him altogether. And then, to capture one of the quintet--or whatever their number might be--would more likely than not merely serve as a warning for the ring-leader of the crowd. Doubtless I could drag nothing at all from the fellow, even though I did succeed in laying hands upon him. If he had been set to watch me he would continue to do so unless I scared him away. I resolved to let him alone for the time being; but the first thing I did after reaching Dr. De Breen's offices was to ring up headquarters and request the Captain to send a man to get on my shadow's trail.

The doctor gave me a bad half-hour. The instant he was through I hurried to a window to learn how events were progressing in the street. Before I had time to ascertain whether my shadow was still on duty, or whether the Central Office man had showed up, my whole attention was absorbed by the appearance of two familiar figures on the opposite side. They were Mr. Fluette and Alexander Burke, walking along together in the most intimate manner imaginable.

I glanced at my watch; it still lacked a minute or two of ten, the hour Mr. Fluette had jotted on his calendar along with the extraordinary memorandum. Inasmuch as he and his strangely chosen companion were moving rapidly, it was a reasonable assumption that he was even then on his way to keep his engagement.

For a moment I stood irresolute. I was very anxious to follow the twain to the rendezvous, while at the same time I did not want to lose my shadow. I glanced eagerly up and down the street, studying the hurrying crowd on the walk, but could not see him anywhere. Then I hurried out to the elevator, and within the next minute was dropped to the ground floor.

I was obliged to walk fast to get within range of Fluette and Burke again--not an easy thing to do among the crowd--but still I could see nothing of my headquarters man, nor of the Jap. And right then I perceived the last mentioned. He had manifestly only at that instant caught up with the speculator and his companion--though why I had failed to see him before I can't imagine--and he was evidently addressing one or the other, or both of them.

It seemed to me that the fellow was trying to make his presence as inconspicuous as possible. He strode stolidly along, close behind them, looking into the shop windows and apparently not noticing the two men at all. Yet I knew that he was talking to them. I could tell by the surprised way with which both Fluette and Burke swung round and stared at him.

I quickened my steps. Yes, the Oriental was talking, and talking volubly. And, if I might judge by the consternation and anger reflected in the faces of his two auditors, his message was anything but welcome. That is to say, Alfred Fluette's strong features showed these emotions, while, as always, it was difficult to read what was going on behind Burke's impassive mask. Still it was pretty plain that the secretary was utterly at his wits'-end.

At last the three stopped at a corner, where they moved up close to the building to avoid the rush of pedestrians. I dared not draw near enough to hope to hear any of their conversation; I could do no more than watch from a distance, trusting to their absorption to keep them oblivious of my proximity.

Both were now excitedly questioning the Jap, who seemed to be wholly unmoved by their agitation. Presently Fluette turned angrily upon Burke. From his manner it was not difficult to imagine that he was soundly berating the secretary, who, whenever he could make himself heard, was just as plainly attempting to present some extenuating argument.

The entire episode was perplexing enough, but what immediately ensued caught me unawares. Without the least warning the trio separated, each hurrying away in a different direction. At this critical juncture a voice said, right at my ear:

"Shall I stick to Burke?--or follow one of the others?"

I jerked my head round to confront Fanshawe, the man detailed to keep Burke under surveillance. I had not observed him before--not surprising, since he had just caught up with me--but I welcomed his presence now.

"Stay with your own man," I shot at him, and turned to look for the Jap. He was gone.

To make the account of this discomfiting episode as brief as possible, I shall say, merely, that out of the three men whom we were watching, two of them walked away from under our very noses without our having the slightest idea in which direction they went. How did they do it? The momentary diversion occasioned by Fanshawe's arrival, the brief distraction of our attention, had been sufficient. He lost track of Burke, and I never had so much as another glimpse of the Jap.

We had the assistance of another headquarters man, too. The one for which I had telephoned showed up immediately after Fanshawe addressed me. The last-named skurried away to find Burke, while Pennington, my other colleague, and I devoted our efforts to catching the Jap.

"One of those Japs has been shadowing me all morning, Pennington," I advised him. "He 's as shifty and evasive as a fox. Fall half a block behind me, and if he shows up again give me a signal and close in. I want him."

But he did n't show up.

It was humiliating to be outwitted by the Oriental--it was the second time for me, too; it would be calamitous to lose Burke. The day dragged along, and when each succeeding minute brought no news of him my anxiety increased by leaps and bounds. Before nightfall, every available man in the department was scouring the city for the ex-secretary.

Subsequent events, however, showed that we might have spared ourselves all the trouble and worry; for one more pertinacious even than Fanshawe clung to Alexander Burke's heels all that day and night.

I found time during my purposeless running to and fro to learn that Alfred Fluette had arrived at his brokers' offices in Quincy Street shortly after ten, where he remained until the Board of Trade closed, and that Genevieve had left on an afternoon train for a brief visit with relatives in Merton, Ohio. Fluette had failed in his engagement; Genevieve had kept hers.

Some time after dark I boarded a Sheridan Park car, and rode out to the Page place; I don't now know why, unless it was because of the disastrous turn affairs had taken, and that I hoped, in this dismal, dispiriting environment, to find a balm for my depressed feelings.

It was only that morning, in the midst of a blinding snow-storm, thoroughly disheartened by the loss of the ruby, that Stodger and I had left the old house; but as I approached it that night, it bore every appearance of having been abandoned for years instead of only a few hours. No smoke curled from the chimneys; no light gleamed at any of the windows. In its white setting of snow, it loomed silent and spectral.

In the afternoon I had turned the keys over to Mr. Page's lawyer, and how I hoped to effect an entrance--if I had any such intention at all--I have long since forgotten. It may have been because it was here that I first met Genevieve, that I came mooning through the cold and snow. She was gone upon a journey; I knew that I could not see her for days; and perhaps I thought to find some companionship in the more intimate associations clustered about the dreary spot. At any rate, here I was. And I saw nothing else for me to do than to turn round and go back to town again.

However, I started to enter the gate. Next instant I stopped short. The snow bore other tracks besides Stodger's and mine--tracks pointing toward the house instead of away from it. They were fresh, made since the snow ceased.

I advanced a little farther into the yard, where the tracks had not been obliterated by pedestrians on the sidewalk, and soon comprehended that they had been made by two men. Were they in the house now? And if so, who were they? What errand could be so pressing that it would bring anybody here on such a night?

My indifference and discouragement fell away from me in a flash. Cautiously I followed the trail up to the front steps, where at first I fancied it disappeared upon the porch. Still I could not see a glint of light, nor did the most attentive harkening favor me with the slightest sound.

It occurred to me while I stood pondering on the porch that, after all, Mr. White--Felix Page's lawyer--might have been responsible for the tracks in the snow. It was possible that he had sent somebody to look after the place; a caretaker, perhaps, who would stay here until a disposition could be made of the property.

But this idea no sooner occurred than it was dismissed. All at once I noticed that one pair of foot-prints, instead of mounting the porch steps, had turned to one side. They led off to the east, and disappeared round the wing in that direction. The two persons had not come in company; the first, I presently concluded, had carried a key, and the second had been following him. There were no retreating impresses to indicate that either had departed.

I tiptoed to the front door and turned the knob. The door did not yield. Then for the first time I recalled the window which our housebreakers had forced the night before; unless the latch had been repaired during the day, it would be an easy matter to gain access to the dining-room, which was located in the western wing.

Now it was the eastern wing or gable which sheltered the library, the conservatory, and Mr. Page's bedroom, and it was thither the second man's foot-prints led. I followed them round the corner of the house.

From their appearance it was easy to trace all the mysterious intruder's movements. Evidently after the door had closed behind the first arrival, Number Two had stood for some time at the east end of the porch. Then he had moved toward the same end of the house, pausing at every window and trying the sash to ascertain whether it was fastened. Turning at the corner, he had proceeded along the side of the house, still testing the windows and bestowing particular attention upon the glass conservatory. This was true of every window as far as the bedroom, at least; beyond that I did not explore. Just as I drew opposite the first of the bedroom windows I came to an abrupt halt.

There was a light in the room.

Nor was this all. Some person was in the room, too, and by the silhouette on the blind I could see that he was industriously applying himself to some task, the nature of which I could not determine. The longer I watched the shadow on the blind, the more puzzled I grew. I could imagine no occupation that would account for such singular actions.

The shadow was a man's; I could distinguish that much. He appeared to be bending over something, while his hands flew hither and thither, as if they were performing a quick-step upon a piano. But no sound of music came from the lighted room.

It would be impossible to say how long I stood there, the snow nearly to my knees, fascinated by the remarkable antics of that shadow. Then of a sudden the hands ceased flying. The man straightened and became motionless, as if startled by some unexpected sound.

Well, perhaps within the next second he knew what had alarmed him; I 'm sure that I did not. The shadow flashed away from the blind. Then my scalp tingled and the blood seemed to freeze in my veins.

From within the room there came a most unearthly cry. It was weird, terrifying, utterly unlike anything I had ever heard--save once. For it was a repetition of the wild, inhuman note that had thrilled me when I first dashed open the bath room door the previous night.

The terrible cry was not immediately repeated, but for a while the utmost confusion prevailed within. I could hear furniture knocked and slammed about, a tumult of stamping, scraping feet, and once--for the briefest moment--another shadow was projected upon the blind.

It was a hideous, squat, dwarfish shadow. Two long gorilla-like arms were upraised in an abandonment of fury. Then came that awful, blood-curdling scream again, and the shadow's owner seemed to plunge headlong forward.

Another crash followed. The light was suddenly blotted out. The silence was once more absolute.