"I tried to rescue you last night, but I would have been killed by Coffran's big Mexican except for the intervention of a man who I believe was The Shadow himself. Somehow, he freed you from the death chamber. I helped your Hindu servant bring you here.
"If you can shed any light on the affairs of Isaac Coffran, you may give us the clue that we need to explain the disappearances of three men — one from Trenton, one from Richmond, one from Cleveland. Each vanished on a Tuesday. One week apart. It is Friday now; the last one, Meyers of Cleveland, has been gone three days."
"A Tuesday night," murmured Bruce Duncan. He counted on his fingers. "Why, the first one must have gone just one week after—"
He paused.
"One week after what?" quizzed Harry Vincent.
"Vincent," blurted Duncan, "there's no use in trying to keep my secret any longer. I'm going to rely on you."
* * *
Duncan felt relieved as he poured forth his story. He began with the mysterious visitor who had robbed the hiding place in the hearth. He told of his uncle's letter. He described the visit of Isaac Coffran, and his journey to the home of the man he believed to be his uncle's friend. He described the accidental reading of the last letter, and the terror he had known in the gas-filled study. The escape by the elevator was news to Harry Vincent; from then on, the account was plain. "What do you think about it?" asked Duncan when he had concluded.
"Just one thing I want to know," said Harry. "You mentioned the letter that you were reading in Coffran's study. What did it say, besides the accusation?"
Duncan's mind was groping. His thoughts seemed far away as he repeated: