"I shall expect you," came Isaac Coffran's reply.
The headlights of the car were turned on and lighted up the driveway. Strange shadows appeared in the glare — long shadows of trees, short shadows of bushes, grotesque, shapeless shadows. The car rolled away.
Duncan and Abdul went in the front door. The small porch light was still on, and another shadow appeared beneath its illumination. This shadow moved across the porch and became motionless. It was a long, thin shadow which terminated in a huge, distorted profile. The light was turned off by the Hindu servant; the shadow was blotted into nothingness, and two spots, bright as burning coals, faded into the night.
Neither of the men in the house had seen the shadow. Bruce Duncan was already on his way upstairs when it appeared upon the porch. Abdul, when he turned off the light, was too occupied to think of looking through the small window beside the front door.
For the Hindu servant was concerned with something that he held in his hand — a scrap of paper which had fallen from the pocket of Isaac Coffran's coat.
Beneath the hall light, Abdul studied the piece of paper and slowly perused the scrawled words that appeared upon it, repeating them to himself as a man who found it difficult to read:
"Find out what Duncan knows. Investigate personally. Prevent all interference. Plans are working perfectly."
Abdul read the message several times. Then a look of understanding appeared upon his dark face. He nodded, as though to himself. He folded the paper carefully and slipped it in a pocket of his jacket.
CHAPTER IX. THREE MEN MISSING
Harry Vincent raised his head and opened his eyes. He found himself staring through the windshield of an automobile. The car was standing still. Its gleaming lights revealed a rough dirt road that curved away among the trees.