Part 3 (2/2)
The fact that the National Emergency Code was worth an immense fortune to Creelon was something aside from the present deal.
Nina spoke her acceptance. She knew that there were others in Was.h.i.+ngton whom Creelon could use as contact agents with Bryland. She knew also that the master-spy, superbly entrenched, could end her own game by a mere snap of his fingers.
Moreover, Nina had good reason to accept any offer that Creelon might give. Success on this mission could mean further service with the greatest of all international spies.
WHEN Nina had gone, Hugo Creelon returned to the room where he held The Shadow prisoner. Opening the door, he saw Jarruth seated by the window. The scar-faced servant grinned and motioned toward the easy-chair. Creelon saw The Shadow, slumped pitifully, his hands hanging limply to the floor.
”The dose was sufficient, Jarruth,” remarked Creelon. ”It will do until after his next meal. Tell me when he wakens from his stupor. Then I shall determine his dinner hour. I would prefer it to be late.”
Jarruth did not question why Creelon had such preference; nevertheless, Creelon gave the answer.
”Perhaps we shall not have to use has.h.i.+sh again,” observed the spy, as he turned to step out into the hall. ”If my work in Was.h.i.+ngton is completed, we can give this prisoner a more potent remedy. One that will provide a permanent sleep!”
With that, Creelon indulged in one of his rare smiles. The evil twist that came to his lips was significant. Hugo Creelon was convinced that it would be unnecessary to keep The Shadow alive after to-night.
CHAPTER VI.
MARQUETTE'S TRAIL.
AT dusk, that same day, Vic Marquette stopped to see Senator Ross Releston. The secret service man had nothing to report. Vic's hope was that Releston had heard something from either Cranston or The Shadow. Finding thatmatters stood unchanged, Marquette brought up an old theme.
”Somebody must have known that Follingsby had that code,” insisted Vic.
”It could have been Bryland. I'd like to satisfy myself about that fellow.”
”Bryland could have known nothing,” returned Releston. ”Remember, Marquette, that I was with him when we visited Follingsby. Whatever Follingsby said, I heard. In fact, I heard more than Bryland. For a short while, Follingsby and I were chatting alone while Bryland was merely looking at curios that Follingsby had brought from Panama.”
”And Follingsby said nothing about the war department -”
”Not a word. That is, nothing to indicate that he had been there. You are unjust, Marquette, to hold suspicions regarding Bryland.”
”I'd like to get Bryland off my mind.”
”That would be a simple matter. Go and see him. He is dining to-night at the Apollo Club, with a young lady named Martha Leeth.”
”Congressman Leeth's daughter?”
”Yes. Bryland is a bachelor; and quite a ladies' man. He dropped in this afternoon and called Miss Leeth while he was here. That is how I happen to know where he will be to-night.”
THE Apollo Club was Was.h.i.+ngton's newest night club, a bright spot that attracted patrons throughout the evening hours. The place was usually about half filled during the dinner period; the big crowds came later, about the time of the nine o'clock floor show. Hence Marquette did not expect much difficulty in locating Frederick Bryland.
There was one feature of the Apollo Club that Vic did not remember until he arrived there. Though the place had a huge dining room, it was also provided with smaller ones that adjoined the main one. In addition there was a bar, in a room by itself; also a c.o.c.ktail lounge. Patrons preferred the smaller rooms during the dinner hour.
When Marquette inquired for Bryland, he was referred from one head waiter to another. When he reached the doorway of a smaller dining room, a page boy pa.s.sed him and went to a corner table, where a man and a girl were seated. The man arose; Vic noted that he was straight-shouldered, square of jaw and with sharp, deep-set eyes. The man was Bryland; but Vic did not know him by sight.
As Bryland walked past, Marquette encountered the head waiter. When Vic inquired for Bryland, the fellow looked toward the corner table.
”Mr. Bryland was there a few moments ago, sir,” he said. ”Miss Leeth is still at the table; he will probably return shortly.”
”I'll look for him,” remarked Vic, remembering the man who had pa.s.sed him.
”I know him by sight.”
Finding Bryland was not so easy as Vic hoped. He looked into the barroom; thought he saw Bryland with a group of men, but was mistaken. It was when he pa.s.sed the c.o.c.ktail lounge that he suddenly spied the man. Marquette stopped just short of the door.
Bryland was seated at a table, talking to a woman dressed in black velvet.
There was a simplicity about her attire that made it the more conspicuous, particularly as it showed her face to best advantage. Marquette saw an aristocratic profile; decided that the woman was Spanish. Vic recalled a photograph that he had seen of that profile.
An a.s.sistant manager was standing close at hand. Vic turned to him and inquired: ”The lady in the lounge, with Mr. Bryland. Isn't she Senorita Valencita?” The manager nodded; then confided: ”Probably Mr. Bryland is an old friend. Senorita Valencita has many acquaintances in Was.h.i.+ngton.”
Marquette was thinking along another track. He stepped back as he saw Bryland and the woman rise and come toward the door. He caught a s.n.a.t.c.h of conversation: ”Then you will come there?” the woman was inquiring. ”And bring -”
”Of course,” inserted Bryland. He had noted Vic from the corner of his eye. ”You can rely upon me. After all” - Bryland's smile was well faked - ”the matter is of little consequence!”
For a moment, Nina showed puzzlement; she covered the expression quickly.
”Of some importance to me,” she said, with a smile. ”Enough to make it worth while asking you the favor. Good night, Mr. Bryland.”
As Bryland bowed, Nina turned back through the lounge. A moment later, Marquette heard a rustle beside him; turned to see Martha Leeth.
THE congressman's daughter made a complete contrast when compared with Nina Valencita. Martha Leeth was actually young; she was a p.r.o.nounced blonde, with bright blue eyes. Her taffeta gown was a cascade of peac.o.c.k-blue ruffles, which gave her a babyish look.
The indignation that she displayed was far from childlike, however.
Martha had seen Nina and had summed the brunette with a glance. Martha was determined to show herself as much a woman of the world as the Spanish brunette, whom she instantly regarded as a rival for Bryland's affections.
”So that was your message,” snapped Martha. ”I'm bringing mine, in person!
Good-by!”
Martha turned about on a trim silver heel and started in the opposite direction. Bryland gripped her arm. He protested as he followed close beside the girl.
”It was nothing, Martha - merely an old acquaintance - a slight favor -”
Martha tried to draw away as they neared the outer door. Bryland said something about the unfinished dinner; Martha snapped back that she had signed the check, putting it on her father's account. Bryland stopped her by the cloak room.
”Your wraps,” he said quietly. ”Don't forget them, Martha.”
The girl waited impatiently while Bryland obtained the wraps. Smiling slightly, Bryland remarked: ”Let's forget it, Martha. It's nearly theater time. You know that I have tickets.”
”I'm going home,” returned the girl. ”Straight home! If you care to call a cab, you can do so! If not, I shall call one myself!”
Bryland bowed; he conducted Martha out through the door. Several persons had stopped to witness the spat; Marquette stepped up beside them. He saw a cab pull up outside the club. Martha entered it and Bryland followed, despite her protest. The cab drove away with the pair inside.
<script>