The fourth man had gone to his doom!
CHAPTER XXVI. FELLOWS IS SUMMONED
At four o'clock Thursday afternoon, Claude Fellows began to pace up and down his private office. The insurance broker seldom became perturbed, but on this occasion his chubby face expressed considerable worriment.
He had received no message from The Shadow since Tuesday morning.
This was something that had never happened before during a period of activity. Furthermore, there had been no answer to urgent messages which Fellows had sent to the office on Twenty-third Street.
The word which had come to Fellows on Tuesday morning had been contained in a letter which bore the postmark of Monday night. It had simply stated that Harry Vincent had made a direct report by wireless, that he had discovered the place which he had been seeking, and that Fellows would receive further word by Wednesday.
But on Wednesday, instead of receiving terse instructions from The Shadow, Fellows had been called by Harry Vincent — called by long distance from a town in Pennsylvania. Vincent's report had been disconcerting. He had not located the meeting place, after all. Things had gone wrong Tuesday night. He had lost the communication which he had established.
Vincent had spoken rather vaguely over the telephone, and Fellows had promised to reply by letter. For the present he could only advise Vincent to wait and to exert the utmost caution in all his actions. His final instructions were to report to him if there were any new developments.
Fellows had delivered a letter himself, making the trip to the vacant office in the building on Twenty-third Street. No reply had arrived on Wednesday. He had repeated the operation the next day, to no avail.
Now it was Friday afternoon. He had sent a third letter in the morning. Still no reply. Fellows had good cause to be worried. What had become of The Shadow?