His instructions were simply to report to Professor Arthur Whitburn. Harry had made no phone call to Claude Fellows, to-day; yet he felt that he already had certain information.
The message from the mysterious woman was a sure indication that he was going to meet the right Whitburn.
This expedition promised danger. Harry pondered over the circumstances as he drove easily along the narrow, winding highway.
He remembered the last journey of this sort that he had made in behalf of The Shadow. That had been an eventful trip.
It was then that he had met Vic Marquette, the secret-service agent. He and Marquette had been captured by counterfeiters, and rescued by The Shadow. Harry wondered what had become of Vic Marquette, for the secret-service agent was a man of mystery himself. Even his associates could not keep track of him. Marquette was a man who played a lone hand. Harry had met him on that one occasion only; since then he had never heard of Vic Marquette.
The houses of the town of Marrinack appeared in the distance as Harry reached the top of a small hill. Unconsciously, Harry increased the speed of the car.
He was nearing his destination. He suddenly felt the urge of adventure.
THE town proved to be a tiny hamlet. Harry stopped before the general store, and alighted from his car. He entered, and spoke to the proprietor, a middle-aged man, who replied with a broad New England accent.
“I am looking for the home of Professor Whitburn,” explained Harry. “I understand that he lives on an island in the lake near here. Is that correct?”
The storekeeper nodded.