"That's just it," interposed Harry. "I'm out to get them, too. Remember, murderers is what they are. You're the only man who can identify them. You're safe if they think you're dead.
"When we've talked this over, I think you'll agree that you're safer working with me, and that you'll have a better chance of seeing them landed, than if you go to the police."
"You're the boss," replied Stuart quietly. "You hauled me out. I'd be a bum sport if I didn't play the game the way you want it."
Harry Vincent grinned in the dark. He liked this chap. He believed that he would be a good man working for The Shadow. That could be settled after they reached Baltimore.
The night had started well — then had come failure. But that one incident — the purloining of Wallace Powell's road map — had turned disaster into gain. There were two men to be traced.
Harry had descriptions of both, and knew the name of one.
More than that, Harry had rescued a man who would prove useful in this campaign.
Tonight, a full report would go to Rutledge Mann — a record of events that would reach The Shadow. That report would state the simple fact that Harry Vincent had foiled one fiendish crime that the enemy had planned. And then, Harry knew, The Shadow would act!
Chapter VII — Death after Dark
An old man sat alone in the somber dining room of an ancient house. He was at a table, munching his food methodically. At times, he chuckled to himself. Something evidently amused him. The old man's expression was deceiving. The changing moods which passed over his features were mingled with signs of doddering senility and traces of uncanny shrewdness. His mutterings were coherent only to himself. They ceased suddenly as a middle-aged woman entered through a swinging door.