“Yesterday,” declared Mann quietly, “Clyde Burke saw the body of Andrews. To-day he has seen Wharton’s body. Upon the throat of each man was a thin, almost invisible white line. Each forehead was seared with a faint, round mark. Both men were murdered; both were stamped by the man who killed them.
“You will observe that Andrews and Wharton were both socially prominent. There is a third man missing — one whose absence has not yet reached the newspapers. He, too, is socially prominent, and may have suffered death at the hands of the same murderer. The missing man’s name is Robert Buchanan.”
“Is there any trace of him?” questioned Harry.
“None to our knowledge,” Mann said, “but there is one place where an investigator might learn something concerning him.
“Robert Buchanan was engaged to a girl named Margaret Glendenning, who lives with her uncle. The old man is a recluse. Clinton Glendenning is his name — a retired manufacturer.
“This afternoon, following Burke’s report, I received an important message, instructing you to call on Clinton Glendenning and question him in reference to Buchanan. This should be a surprise visit, during the evening. Here is Glendenning’s address.”
HARRY was warmly enthusiastic. He had worked often in the service of The Shadow. He loved adventure, and here was another opportunity for it.
Matters had been quiet during the past month, and Harry had been considering a short trip to his Michigan home in the little town of Colon. Now, with The Shadow calling him to duty, he would remain in New York.
“After dinner,” said Mann, “go to Glendenning’s home. Interview the old man — and, if possible, talk with the niece.”
The conference ended. It was nearly six o’clock. A myriad of twinkling lights could be seen from the window of Rutledge Mann’s office.