Those were the words that formed the message. A strange, numerical code; yet its meaning was evident to the eyes that studied it. The right hand wrote these remarks upon another sheet of paper.
First — Froman. Second — Tholbin. Third — Noyes.
These were the keys. They made it plain that at approximately nine o’clock Frederick Froman had visited Parker Noyes, and had not left until quarter past ten. They also stated that at half past nine, David Tholbin, too, had visited the lawyer, leaving at approximately ten o’clock.
The Shadow’s operatives — Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland — had kept good vigil that night. Although they had learned no vital information, they had reported to Burbank the moves made by the men whom they had been deputed to watch.
New plans were under way; and The Shadow held a slender clew. He had already learned of the negotiations between Froman and Noyes; now he had proof that Tholbin, too, was in the picture.
To The Shadow, all facts had a value. His destination lay ahead, in Moscow; still, he kept in touch with events in New York. Could the meager news be of use to him?
The answer was a soft laugh that whispered through the cabin. The light went out; the laugh continued. At last its ghostly echoes died away. The cabin was empty.
Upon an upper deck of the great ship, a silent man stood cloaked in darkness. Two eyes shone as they peered across the moonlit expanse of the moving ocean.
A mighty brain was thinking, planning, preparing to meet the schemes of master plotters. Its thoughts were duplicating those that had occurred to other minds.
Methods had changed since The Shadow had first set out to thwart the evil plan in Moscow. But, although new problems must be met, The Shadow would be ready. The faithful agents of this master of the night had done their work well.