LATER THAT NIGHT
THE meeting of the Reds had been held early in the evening. Hence it was not yet midnight when the mysterious cab driver rode northward in another cab.
But now he was a totally different personage. He sat in the back of a cab; he was faultlessly attired in expensive tailored clothes; and he appeared as a young and well-groomed man — Lamont Cranston, the millionaire.
The cab stopped in front of the home of Prince Zuvor, and Lamont Cranston alighted. He rang the doorbell and Ivan admitted him. With a profound bow, the Russian servant conducted the guest to the room on the second floor.
Prince Zuvor smiled when he stepped through the curtains. He seemed greatly pleased at Cranston’s arrival, and his first words carried a question.
“What transpired the other night?” he asked. “Did any one appear to be following you?”
“Perhaps it was my imagination,” replied Cranston speculatively. “I did fancy that some one was on my trail. So I changed cabs, and finally borrowed a limousine of a friend of mine — which chanced to be parked near Forty-second Street. I left it at the Landis Club, and I had no difficulty after that.”
“I am surprised that you risked another visit here,” remarked Prince Zuvor, with a slight smile. “I told Ivan to welcome you when you came again — and I changed that remark to ‘if you came again.’ For I feared that you would be followed, and I imagined that it might discourage you.”
“Indeed not,” said the millionaire. “In fact, I merely dropped in for a few minutes, to-night.
“I have a matter which I should like to discuss with you — not now, but at some later date. When would be convenient to you?”