Harry smiled.
"I forgot you didn't know about it," he said. "The ink doesn't last on any letters that deal with The Shadow's business. It fades out and never comes back."
* * *
Harry rose from the table.
"Let's get started," he suggested.
They left the restaurant and drove about the town in Vincent's coupe. The car bore Pennsylvania license plates. Harry had been careful about that registration. It would not attract the attention of a car that was plainly identified as from New York.
After a short cruise they returned and separated. Each spent an hour about town, gossiping in stores and with idlers. This was an easy task in the rural community.
"Only one good idea," said Harry when they met. "We might try the old Mountain Pike that goes north from here. There's a bus runs over it, through a gap between the hills. The bus waits for the last train from Harrisburg. Meyers might have taken it if he got off here."
"Good idea," agreed Bruce. "I haven't anything better to offer."
They rode slowly along the pike toward the nearest mountains, which were several miles away. As they neared the rising slopes, the road entered thick woods, which opened occasionally when they approached farms.