Heading eastward, the huge monoplane swept on its way to Warsaw. Reclining quietly upon a cushioned seat was the passenger who called himself both Arnaud and Prensky — yet who was neither.
Ivan Motkin had promised his prisoner safe conduct from Moscow. That safe conduct had been gained, despite the faithlessness of Motkin’s word.
Motkin — Senov — Paris. New action stalked the bloody trail that the quest of the Romanoff jewels had caused. Two barbarous factions were aiming toward a brutal struggle for possession. Members of both sides had used crime and treachery.
The Shadow was speeding on to fight them all!
CHAPTER XIV. IN PARIS
A YOUNG man was seated at a table in a room of a Paris hotel. His face was turned toward the window as he stared out upon the twinkling lights of the French capital. The telephone rang upon the wall, and the young man turned to answer it. The dark features of David Tholbin showed plainly in the light of the room.
“Hello,” said Tholbin. “Oh, yes, Betty. This is Dave. All ready to leave?… Very well, I’ll meet you and dad in half an hour. At the little cafe on the boulevard… Yes, I saw to the luggage. It’s all gone.”
Tholbin smiled as he hung up the receiver. He looked about the room to make sure that he had forgotten nothing. He started toward the door; then stopped suddenly as he heard a cautious rap from the other side.
With a worried look, Tholbin slipped his hand into his coat pocket. The touch of a revolver that he felt there eased his apprehension. He ordered the visitor to come in. Michael Senov entered. Tholbin withdrew his hand from his pocket.
“You are ready to leave?”