Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 079 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER XI. HARRY REPORTS

NINE o'clock the next evening found Harry Vincent seated across the desk front Philo Dreblin. Harry had completed his first day of duty as the calthite magnate's secretary. Dreblin seemed pleased with his new employee's efficiency. Harry noted a smile on the magnate's lips as the heavy man glanced at his watch.

"All right, Vincent," decided Dreblin. "I have dictated enough letters for tonight. Type these off; let me see them in the morning."

Harry nodded. He gathered up his notes and went from the study. But as he closed the door behind him, the new secretary felt the dawning of a definite suspicion. Dreblin had spoken in a manner that indicated a coming appointment.

Dreblin's study was on the second floor of the magnate's Manhattan mansion. Dreblin evidently liked the surroundings of this West Side brownstone house, for he apparently never went to the office of the Calthite Company. Harry had figured that, because of frequent telephone calls between Dreblin and the office. Such business had taken up a great portion of the day.

In leaving the door of Dreblin's study, Harry crossed an outer room - a sort of parlor filled with heavy,

squatty furniture. Harry reached a hall; he entered a little room that had been assigned to him. There he placed his notes beside a large typewriter.

Harry unlocked a box that looked like the case of a portable typewriter. It housed an odd-looking contrivance to which was attached a length of insulated wire with a plug on the end. Harry attached the plug to a floor socket. He pulled the switch.

Immediately, the device in the box began to click in the fashion of a typewriter. There were pauses in its sounds; tinkles of bells; noises that resembled the sliding of a typewriter carriage. The Shadow had supplied Harry with this machine; and the agent had found it useful on other occasions.

Anyone passing the room would suppose Harry to be hard at work behind a closed door. Because of that, Harry could be elsewhere. Peering out into the hall, he sneaked from the room and closed the door behind him. He tiptoed to the gloomy upstairs parlor.

Finding a hiding place behind a large chair, Harry waited, believing that a visitor would soon arrive. He could hear the faint clicks of his fake typewriter. He expected to see Alfred - taciturn servant in Dreblin's employ - appear from the hall, bringing some stranger. But Alfred did not arrive.

Nor did any visitor appear alone. This puzzled Harry, for he was blocking the only entrance to Dreblin's study.

At last impatience overruled caution. Harry crept from behind the chair and approached the door of the study. He peered through the keyhole; but saw nothing, for a key was in the lock.

As Harry listened, however, he caught the sound of mumbled voices.

It could not be Dreblin talking on the telephone, for the voices differed. One was the magnate's basso; the other was a higher tone. Harry could not distinguish words; he decided that the speakers must be over by the desk.

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