Part 3 (1/2)
”You gave me information that I wanted,” resumed the spy, ”but the prize is not yet in my possession. There is always a chance of some miscalculation.
In my game, nothing can ever be taken for granted. Until my negotiations are completed, I shall hold you prisoner.
”Perhaps there may be occasion for you to exert your talents again in my service. Upon that possibility depends your hope for life. That is all.”
JARRUTH was returning, bringing a small tea wagon loaded with food. He wheeled it in front of The Shadow; placed a spoon in the prisoner's hand. The Shadow began to eat a bowl of hot soup.
The operation intrigued him. Each spoonful that he slowly removed taxed his full concentration. Lifting the weighted spoon was a difficult as a balancing act.
Each slow swallow of soup was welcome. It seemed to bring warmth and strength; steadiness that offset the has.h.i.+sh. Nevertheless, The Shadow was not deceived. He knew that the effect of the drug still held him. As Creelon had declared, The Shadow was helpless.
Wisely, the master-spy had foreseen that ordinary bonds could not hold The Shadow captive; and that formidable prison bars would be useless. Creelon had adopted a surer course. He had deprived The Shadow of physical power. Like a Philistine chieftain, Creelon looked upon The Shadow as a shorn Samson whom he could taunt and scorn.
Soup finished, The Shadow sank back wearied, but less under the influence of the has.h.i.+sh. He noted a perceptible increase in the speed of things about him. His own actions must have been more normal; for Creelon spoke in an undertone to Jarruth.
The servant reached for a gla.s.s of greenish liquid, thrust it toward TheShadow's lips. It was coming slowly, but the result was inevitable. Jarruth's approaching hand, with all its fancied slowness, was speedier than the closing of The Shadow's lips. The gla.s.s reached The Shadow's mouth. Its pressure forced his head backward. He tasted the bitterish liquid; felt it gurgle as it reached his throat.
The Shadow's captors were relying upon this new dose of dope to keep him helpless for the remainder of the day. With a short laugh from his level lips, Hugo Creelon turned and stalked from the room. As he looked back from the doorway, the master-spy saw The Shadow slumping off balance, to be caught by the rough arm of Jarruth. Jarruth jolted the prisoner deep in the easy-chair, as Creelon closed the door.
Outside The Shadow's room, Creelon followed a short hallway that was blank on the right; but had two doorways on the left, with another straight ahead.
He stopped as he saw a warning light blink from a bulb above the end door of the hall. Creelon opened the first door on the left. He stepped into a s.p.a.ce that was like a darkened closet, but with a flight of steps. He closed the door behind him; pressed his way through curtains at the top of the steps.
Creelon was behind a sheet of plate gla.s.s. Through it, he could see the interior of a large reception room, furnished in ornate style, with heavily draped windows. The gilded furniture was conspicuous against the purple velvet of the curtains.
The spy watched the door from the hallway. It opened; a bespectacled man who looked like a secretary bowed a visitor into the room. The arrival was a woman, of definitely Spanish appearance. Her features were handsome, rather than beautiful; that was partly due to the haughtiness that seemed a part of her make-up.
It would have been impossible to guess the woman's age. She looked young; but her high-bridged nose, her straight cheeks and narrow lips were the types of features that would change but little with years.
The woman was clad in black, a color that well suited her, for it made her olive skin show light by contrast. Her eyes, sparkling in glance, were also black. So were her thin eyebrows and her hair. The woman was of the extreme brunette type that is found among the Castilian n.o.bility of old Spain.
ALONE in the reception room, the dark-haired woman looked about curiously, as though suspecting eavesdroppers behind the heavy curtains. She glanced toward the gla.s.s in the wall of the room, but did not see Creelon beyond it. Seating herself, the visitor produced a black cigarette case that glistened like polished ebony. With slender fingers that showed long, red-tipped nails, she drew a satin-tipped cigarette from the case, applied a tiny platinum lighter and puffed long wreaths of smoke.
Creelon moved away from the big gla.s.s. He descended the steps, came out through the hall. Reaching the next door, he opened it and stepped into the reception room. The woman was looking in the direction when he entered. Her thin, ruddy lips formed a pleased smile.
With a bow, Creelon approached. The woman extended her hand; Creelon received it and bowed again. He took a chair directly in front of the plate gla.s.s, which showed his reflection from a gilded frame. The gla.s.s was an Argus mirror; on this side it appeared to be a silver surface, with no trace of transparency. It could be seen through on only one side; in this case, through the back.
”It is indeed a privilege,” remarked Creelon, in purred tone, ”to receiveas visitor so celebrated a person as Senorita Nina Valencita, whose charm has captivated the capitals of all Europe.”
”Not so great a privilege,” returned Senorita Valencita, ”as that of meeting Hugo Creelon, whose name and fame are held as a secret by only the chosen few.”
”Our methods differ,” declared Creelon. ”Where you mask your intrigue by appearing openly, I keep both myself and my methods under cover. To you, senorita, goes the greater credit for playing the more difficult game.”
Nina Valencita smiled as she puffed smoke toward the ceiling. Her eyes sparkled as she looked about.
”I admire your apartment, Mr. Creelon,” she said, ”particularly because of its location. I have never enjoyed the privilege of secret residence in the emba.s.sy of so great a nation as -”
She paused, catching a slight warning motion from Creelon's usually straight lips. Nina responded with a wise smile. She decided to let Creelon talk.
”We can reserve further compliments,” remarked Creelon, dryly. ”Our present business concerns us; I have an important task for you; provided that you can accomplish it without producing suspicion.”
”Why should I create suspicion?”
”Because of your previous operations in the field of espionage.
Particularly those during the recent Spanish revolution.”
”Spain is supposed to be my native country,” smiled Nina. ”It was only natural that I should have gone there, to join in the cause of the royalists.”
”You feel sure then, that you have not been watched in Was.h.i.+ngton?”
”Quite positive. My recent engagement to John Marthess, nephew of the late Senator Marthess, indicates that I prefer marrying money rather than acquire it by other means.”
CREELON nodded in slow, convinced fas.h.i.+on. His nod ended with a sudden expression of doubt.
”Since you are engaged to young Marthess,” he objected, ”it might cause undue comment if you were seen with another man, even though the meeting might be a short one.”
Nina shook her head.
”Not at all,” she responded. ”I have many friends in Was.h.i.+ngton.
Moreover, Mr. Creelon, I understand when I should be discreet.”
”There is another objection. Do you intend to marry Marthess?”
Nina shook her head. Creelon actually smiled.
”I thought you did not,” he said. ”That is why I sent for you. If you were marrying a man of wealth, you would have no need for money. But if you are merely engaged to a wealthy man, as an excuse for being in Was.h.i.+ngton, your status is excellent.”
Creelon paused to glance at his watch, which showed three o'clock.
”Within the next five hours,” said the master-spy, ”I want you to locate a man named Frederick Bryland.”
”Formerly a major in the United States army,” added Nina, with her suave smile. ”I have met Mr. Bryland.”
”All the better. I can count upon you to find him. When you speak to Bryland, tell him who I am and where I may be reached.”
Nina Valencita gasped as she stared at Hugo Creelon. She could not believe the order. Hugo Creelon, the spy whose name was known only to the cleverest ofhis own profession; calling upon her to reveal his ident.i.ty to a former army officer. Whether jest or madness, Nina could not understand it. Then came Creelon's brisk voice: ”Tell Bryland that I am prepared to purchase the National Emergency Code, technically known as the NEC. If he will bring it here, intact, there will be no quibble regarding the price.”
Enlightenment showed upon the sophisticated face of Nina Valencita; with it, amazed admiration. She was one of the few who had heard of the theft that had stirred official Was.h.i.+ngton. She had supposed that Hugo Creelon would be seeking possession of the NEC. But the extent of the superspy's espionage was far beyond her expectations.
Creelon had not only learned who held the NEC; he was living as an unofficial guest in the emba.s.sy of a foreign country. That meant that Creelon had already arranged for prompt disposal of the NEC, once he acquired it. That was in keeping with Creelon's usual system of safeguarding every move.
Creelon had risen; he was ushering Nina to the door. Near the portal the superspy remarked: ”Your fee for this slight service will be twenty thousand dollars. The same amount that you received for your dangerous journey to Madrid, not long ago.”
The statement showed that Creelon was a shrewd bargainer. His mention of the Madrid mission forced Nina to accept the present terms as satisfactory.