The body of Dale Wharton had been washed ashore on Long Island. This was a step toward the solving of the mystery which had shrouded the disappearance of the wealthy sportsman. But both police and journalists had met with disappointment.
The latest report — the one on Mann’s desk — said that the police could find no evidence of foul play.
Wharton, it was known, had been under the influence of liquor when he had started on his trip through Long Island Sound. Two bottles, one empty, the other nearly so, had been found in his pockets:
Everything indicated that Wharton had fallen overboard from his boat and had drowned. This solution was both simple and practical.
An intoxicated man, at the helm, might well lose control of the craft. A sharp turn, and overboard he would go. That, the authorities said, was what had happened to Dale Wharton.
Yet this case was not a closed issue so far as Rutledge Mann was concerned. The investment broker was patiently awaiting a report from Clyde Burke.
In response to instructions from The Shadow, Mann had dispatched the alert reporter to Long Island. Burke had found no difficulty in convincing his city editor that a look into the Wharton death might be advisable.
The afternoon was waning. Burke’s report should be there soon. Mann showed no signs of impatience, but he was actually anxious to obtain progress in this matter.
The telephone rang. Mann answered it. He recognized the voice of Clyde Burke. The reporter’s message consisted of a single, cryptic word that came over the wire.
“Identical!”