The Plot Master s-71 Read online

  "More than a half hour ago," stated the senator, "a man came here and announced himself

  as you. He looked like you, commander. He wanted the plans. We gave them to him."

  "What! Without demanding proof of his identity?"

  "Vincent was here. He took the man for you."

  "But did the rogue have tracings?"

  "No. He said that he had destroyed them; that they were unnecessary. He was in the living

  room with Stollart, dictating notes. He left by the outer door."

  "Is this Stollart?" demanded Dadren, looking at the secretary.

  Releston nodded.

  "What did the impostor dictate?" inquired Dadren, looking steadily at the secretary.

  "Odd references that I could not understand," was the reply. "It sounded like a rigmarole. But

  I thought -"

  "Of course." Dadren's tone was caustic. "Nobody thought. What kind of a story did this

  fellow tell you?"

  "None," growled Vic. "That's just why I began to suspect him. He said he was brought

  blindfolded into Washington; that -"

  "You have told me enough," interposed Dadren. "Listen to my story. You will know then why

  the rogue came here. In a sense, I am to blame for what has happened. Yet, do not be

  alarmed. We are better off than we were before."

  RELESTON settled back in his chair. Vic Marquette looked tensely interested. Stollart was

  listening carefully.

  "My captors," explained Dadren, "were holding me in an old shack somewhere near a

  railroad. I feel sure that it was on the Richmond line. South of Washington. I could hear trains

  going by at night.

  "Their leader, a black-bearded villain, could make nothing of the plans I carried. He thought

  they were duplicates of those that you received from Vincent. He wanted the originals. So he

  politely returned me these duplicates and suggested a compromise, through the letter that

  he made me write.

  "To-day, the bearded man went away. I suspected a ruse. I managed to talk with the guard

  whom he had set over me. That fellow, like others on duty at the shack, seemed

  discontented. Talking with the guard, I explained the terms that I had made. I learned

  something.

  "The black-bearded rascal had told his crew that he was getting fifty thousand dollars for my

  release. He was to split half of the money with them. My guard saw—from what I had told

  him—that he and the others would he left holding the bag. That was my wedge."

  "I begin to get it," affirmed Vic Marquette.

  "I told my guard that I wanted to escape," resumed Dadren. "I said that the bearded chief

  was double-crossing me as well as his own men. I offered amnesty to all and added that I

  would pay them the twenty-five thousand that I had promised to their leader.

  "I impressed the dissatisfied guard. He was going to talk it over with his companions. I told

  him to wait, until they had proof of their leader's perfidy. The guard came in the cell where

  they were holding me. He aided me in wrenching away the bars, a job that I had failed to do

  alone.

  "Then he locked the door and remained outside while I escaped. I made for the railroad. A

  freight was coming from a siding. I clambered into an open box car and rode into

  Washington. I came here at once.

  "This being Wednesday"- the speaker paused deliberately—"I figured that I could anticipate

  any game that our enemy was playing. Bringing the tracings with me, I was sure that all was

  safe. I thought that to-morrow, Thursday, would bring the crisis. But I was wrong."

  DADREN paused. Then, in a sour tone, he added:

  "The crook came here ahead of me. In disguise. Something that I had not expected. What a

  terrible mistake—to let him get away with those plans. Nevertheless, we can defeat him."

  "How?" queried Vic.

  "Here are the tracings," responded Dadren. "The villain does not know their value. He has

  merely reversed the situation. He has the plans, we have the tracings, instead of the other

  way about."

  "Say"—Vic Marquette had a sudden thought—"that fellow seemed to know what the

  tracings were for. How do you explain that, commander?"

  "I can answer it." The unexpected statement came from Stollart. The secretary was

  speaking earnestly. "Remember, sir"- Stollart turned to Releston —"that the impostor stalled

  a bit when the tracings were mentioned?"

  "I do," recalled the senator.

  "That's when he realized their importance," added Stollart. "He was bluffing, feeling us out.

  He caught on without our knowing it."

  "Stollart is right!" shot Vic Marquette, pounding the desk. "That guy's headed back for the

  shack in Virginia, to get these tracings that he had returned to Commander Dadren."

  "We can trap him there," added Senator Releston. "With Commander Dadren free and safe

  with us, we can move at once. This is a job for the Secret Service, Marquette."

  "You're right it is, senator," chimed Vic. "I'm calling the chief right away. We'll have a squad

  down there to grab the whole outfit. How close can you give us the trail, commander?"

  "I paced five hundred and fifty steps from the shack to the siding," declared Dadren. "I came

  in from the east side of the railroad, on a direct line. While in the box car, I counted

  sixty-three telegraph posts until we reached a little station called Alora."

  "That's enough," decided Vic. "Let me have the telephone, senator -"

  "Just a moment," interrupted Dadren. Vic stopped. "These plans"- Dadren picked up the

  tracings—"must go in the vault at once."

  "I shall place them there as soon as Marquette calls," promised Releston.

  "And I'll stay here with the senator," added Vic. "The chief will handle the squad."

  "I must see Vincent," declared Dadren. "Furthermore, I should report at once to the Navy

  Department."

  "Vincent is down there," put in Stollart, "at an inquiry that concerns Cedar Cove -"

  "What!" exclaimed Dadren. "I must go there, at once. This is important, senator. I can report

  to the department, see Vincent and talk at that inquiry, all at once."

  "Shall I go with him, senator?" questioned Vic.

  "You belong here," insisted Dadren. "You represent the Secret Service. I have placed the

  tracings in your charge. I may have to mention that at the inquiry. Otherwise, the Navy

  Department might demand the tracings.

  "You should stay here also, senator. Nevertheless, I should like to have some one

  accompany me. I shall be safe, for I am sure that my abductor has not yet learned of my

  escape. At the same time, I prefer to have some one with me -"

  "Take Stollart," interposed Releston, indicating the secretary.

  "Good!" A faint smile began on Dadren's lips. Stollart, too, showed repressed satisfaction.

  "Very well, senator"- Dadren waved his hand toward the desk—"you have the all important

  tracings. You know me to be the real Commander Dadren.

  "Come, Stollart. We must start. I shall call you from the Navy Department, senator."

  Turning on his heel, the second visitor strode from the office. Stollart followed close behind

  him. Vic Marquette grabbed the telephone, while Senator Releston remained at his desk.

  While Vic was telephoning, Releston heard the outer door slam as token of a departure. The

  gray-haired senator smiled. Not for a moment did he suspect that he and Marquette—for the

  second time within an hour
—had become the dupes of a clever game.

  CHAPTER XX. TO THE HIDE-OUT

  OUTSIDE the Hotel Barlingham, the man who looked like Commander Dadren beckoned

  Stollart toward an obscure alleyway. There the two stepped into a coupe. Taking the wheel,

  the impersonator headed toward the Northwest District. Then, in a growl that resembled Eric

  Hildrow's, he questioned:

  "What happened, Stollart? Give me the details."

  "I thought it was you, chief," replied the secretary. "I was taken in, like the rest of them."

  "You fool! You knew that I wouldn't arrive until after two o'clock. I didn't want to meet Vincent."

  "I thought you had changed your plan -"

  "I hadn't. We've been tricked as badly as Releston and Marquette. Do you know who that

  first fellow was?"

  Stollart shook his head.

  "The Shadow!" hissed Hildrow.

  Stollart trembled at mention of the name.

  "The Shadow came into the game," asserted Hildrow, his voice incongruous as it came

  from lips that looked like Dadren's. "He wanted the plans and he got them."

  "He may come back for the tracings," suggested Stollart, in an awed tone.

  "That won't matter," declared Hildrow. "I have photostats. We've got to land the plans, that's

  all. If we get them, Releston can keep the tracings. Anyway, I still hold Dadren. That's the one

  club that may work."

  "What fooled me," stated Stollart, "was when the fellow wanted to dictate notes in the living

  room. He hoaxed Releston and Marquette into leaving. Then he began to talk."

  "He dictated?"

  "No. He told me what to do—to sit tight while he ducked out through that front door. Bolt it

  after him, stall around for ten minutes or so, then go back and tell the senator that he had left

  for the Navy Department with my notes."

  "And you fell for it!"

  "I thought it was you, chief."

  "He didn't give you the countersign?"

  "No; but I didn't expect it. I knew you were coming, made up like Dadren. Ducking out

  through the front door was just what you might have done."

  "I guess you're right," admitted Hildrow.

  THE car was circling. Hildrow was taking an aimless course, apparently intending to remain

  in Washington. Plotting some counterstroke, he at last announced the beginning of a

  method.

  "I'm sending you back, Stollart," he decided. "Keep an eye on what happens. We'll frame

  our scheme while we ride along."

  "But The Shadow -"

  "He won't come back. Don't worry. He'll be after me. He's wise enough to know he can't

  trace me through you. Your hide will be safe, Stollart."

  "I'm not sure about that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because of something that just hit me. Listen, chief; you figured that The Shadow beat you

  to it, coming in there with the same disguise you're wearing."

  "That's it."

  "Do you think he's better at make-up than you are?"

  Hildrow considered. Then he shook his head. That was an admission that he did not care to

  make.

  "I don't think he is, chief," insisted Stollart. "Maybe he's a rum at that game. You've got it

  down perfect."

  "All right. What are you driving at?"

  "Well, if it was The Shadow who came in there, he took a long shot. Too long a shot. One

  that wouldn't have worked."

  "On account of Vincent?"

  "That's it. He couldn't have fooled Vincent. You didn't want to risk it, chief. That's why you

  came after two o'clock."

  "Well, if it wasn't The Shadow," sneered Hildrow, "who was it?"

  "Commander Dadren himself," returned Stollart.

  HILDROW shoved the brake and brought the car up to a curb. He turned to stare at his

  accomplice. Stollart was solemn. He could see a puzzled expression on Hildrow's face.

  "Figure it this way, chief," suggested Stollart. "The Shadow got into the game. He was trying

  to trace Dadren. He found him."

  "How do you know?"

  "I'm guessing. But it's a good guess. Suppose The Shadow discovered where you've

  hidden Dadren. Would he be able to get him out?"

  "Yes"- Hildrow was slow with the admission—"but when the crew found Dadren missing -"

  "He wouldn't be missing."

  "Why not?"

  "Because, chief, The Shadow could have taken his place. Armed and ready for immediate

  action, he wouldn't mind a fight -"

  "But Korsch knows what Dadren looks like."

  "So does Vincent. Better than anybody else."

  Hildrow whacked a big hand squarely upon Stollart's back. For once, the master plotter was

  enthusiastic.

  "You've got it, Stollart!" he exclaimed. "The whole thing fits. The Shadow found the hide-out.

  Got in with Dadren and talked to him. Dadren spilled the news about the letter that he had

  sent to Releston."

  "That's the only way it could have leaked out," put in Stollart.

  "So The Shadow steered Dadren back to Washington," continued Hildrow. "The Shadow

  stayed in his place. But even then, The Shadow was foxy. He told Dadren to get the plans

  clear away from Releston's."

  "Because he suspected that you had a spy there," added Stollart, in a troubled tone.

  "Dadren didn't have to fool anybody. He was himself. But he fooled me. The Shadow had

  tipped him to look for a spy, chief. The Shadow knew you were coming in as Dadren.

  "That's why Dadren told me to work with him. I gave myself away, thinking Dadren was you.

  He's ducked somewhere. He's waiting out of sight in Washington. Waiting for The Shadow

  to show up."

  Grimly, Hildrow wheeled the car from the curb. He took a new course. Stollart, still troubled,

  spoke as they rode rapidly along.

  "You're not taking me back to Releston's, chief," he pleaded. "I tell you, I'll be a goner if you

  do. I've worked with you. The jig's up. I've got to duck for cover -"

  "That's what you're doing," interposed Hildrow. "I'm doing two jobs at once. We're heading

  for the hideout where I had Dadren. It's a safe place."

  "Far from here?" Stollart was still troubled.

  "Up the Potomac," responded Hildrow. "We're moving there fast. Not on your account,

  Stollart—because you're safe enough. I'm out to get The Shadow before he makes trouble.

  "Korsch is guarding the fellow that he thinks is Dadren. The Shadow will be smart enough

  not to make a break until he knows Dadren is in the clear. I got in mighty close after Dadren.

  The Shadow doesn't know how quick I worked.

  "We'll be back at the hide-out before he pulls his get-away. Likely, anyway, that he'd wait

  until nearly dark. Thinking I was buffaloed. Figuring me running around Washington like a

  loon."

  HILDROW pressed the accelerator as they came to a clear stretch of road. The coupe

  swayed along at terrific speed. The crook handled it with care at every turn. Soon he was on

  the course that led above the Great Falls.

  He did not speak again until they had reached the wheel tracks that led to the decrepit

  bridge. Then the master plotter turned to Stollart, who was sitting, anxious-eyed, beside him.

  "All quiet along the Potomac," chuckled Hildrow. "There's the old bridge. Korsch has a

  cottage hidden on the island. We're here in time. We'll find our man."

  With this prophecy, Hildrow turned the car across the bridge. All was silent about the cottage

  when the master plotter
and his accomplice alighted.

  Only the faint rippling of the river disturbed the peaceful scene. Korsch, coming from the

  porch, stared in amazement as he saw a man whom he mistook for Commander Dadren.

  The hatchet-faced man reached for a gun; then he caught a signal from Hildrow.

  Korsch understood. Nodding, he preserved the silence as the two approached. In a whisper,

  Hildrow introduced Stollart; then explained matters to Korsch. Quietly, they went into the

  house.

  The lull had been maintained. Eric Hildrow, craftier than ever, was preparing for a battle with

  The Shadow.

  CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW'S FIGHT

  AS soon as the arrivals had entered the cottage, Korsch went into a room on the right. Three

  men were lounging there. Korsch beckoned to them. Drawing his revolver, the hatchet-faced

  man buzzed instructions to these underlings.

  Korsch led the group upstairs while Hildrow and Stollart were entering the little office. Still

  wearing the disguise that made him resemble Commander Joseph Dadren, Hildrow took a

  chair behind the desk. Producing a revolver, he laid it beside him. The pair waited.

  Upstairs, Korsch and his squad were cautiously approaching a closed door, where a guard

  was on duty. Motioning this man aside, Korsch unlocked the door and opened it. He entered

  a somber room. Its windows were closed with shutters; only the lifted slats admitted light.

  A figure stirred on a cot. Korsch studied a dim face. This prisoner looked like Dadren, but

  the light was too dim to be certain. Covering his quarry with the gun, Korsch ordered him

  into the hall.

  The prisoner stepped squarely into the path of looming muzzles. Surprised, he raised his

  hands. Korsch tapped him for weapons and found none.

  "March him downstairs," he ordered. "Hold him outside the office until I go in."

  The prisoner was conducted to the ground floor. Korsch paused by the office door. These

  men of his had not seen Hildrow's face. Korsch explained.

  "You'll see the chief behind the desk," he stated, "but he won't be wearing the beard. He'll

  look like Dadren, just like this guy does. Keep the prisoner covered."

  Korsch entered. He took his stand by Hildrow. The plotter gripped his gun. Both he and

  Korsch were covering the door when the other man thrust the prisoner into view.