"I have been dreading the anniversary of that night, thirty years ago. I have been trying to forget. And now -" His voice rose to a hoa.r.s.e scream. He seized the paper that lay in Harry's hands. He tore it to shreds and flung the fragments in the air.

"The first of June!" Banks stared wildly as he uttered the words. "The first of June! The night - the night - that - she died! I must forget it! I will forget it! But now I have written it - and I cannot remember when!"

He arose and paced back and forth across the room, while Harry watched him in silence.

"I have written it myself!" gasped Hubert Banks. "Written it, with my own hand! I cannot remember when. I found the paper on the telephone table. June the first, June the first, June -"

Banks placed his hand against his forehead and staggered toward the steps. Harry Vincent watched the man as he stumbled and then regained his footing.

Banks ascended the steps, crossed the hallway and ascended the stairs to the second floor.

"June the first -" came his voice, followed by a peal of insane laughter. The sound was repeated farther away.

Five minutes later, Harry arose and went to the second floor. He listened at the door of the millionaire's room. He tried the k.n.o.b. The door was unlocked. He found Banks lying on his bed, in a stupor.

Harry turned out the light and waited by the door. At last he heard a regular breathing. Exhausted, Banks had fallen asleep. Harry returned to the living room. At the writing desk in the corner, he wrote out a quick report and sealed it in an envelope. He picked up a small heap of letters that he was to mail for Hubert Banks. At the door, Harry encountered the butler.

"Do not lock up, Herbert," he said. "I shall be back in a few minutes."

Harry returned a quarter of an hour afterward. He stopped in front of the millionaire's room and satisfied himself that Banks was sleeping comfortably.

Harry was thoughtful as he went to his own room. Tonight he had learned what troubled Hubert Banks - and now that information was on its way to The Shadow!

CHAPTER XIV. THE UNSEEN HARD.

A MAN stepped from a taxicab on a quiet street. He paid the driver and walked slowly toward a nearby house, glancing cautiously over his shoulder as he went.

When the cab had pulled away, the man stopped, looked up and down the street, and then sauntered away in the direction opposite that taken by the cab. Although the night was mild, the collar of the dark topcoat was turned up above his neck.

He turned suddenly and walked through a narrow pa.s.sage between two houses. He came to a side door of a house on the next street. He tapped lightly. The door opened automatically.

Inside, he went up three steps, through a hallway to another door, which opened to his tapping. The man entered a room. The door closed behind him.

The room in which the visitor stood was the visible creation of a gruesome mind. It contained no furniture. Its walls were formed by billowy, jet-black curtains. A ghastly blue light pervaded the apartment.

There was a strangeness about this weird light that had a marked effect upon the man who had entered.

He could not see his own features, yet he seemed to realize that they were indistinguishable in that eerie illumination.

The curtains seemed to rustle uncertainly. The man was watchful. Then, at the end of the room, a black form seemed to emerge, from the bulging curtains; a human form, with face invisible, showing only as a white blur under the strange blue light.

The man who had come from outside shifted his position. The action showed that he had noted the arrival of the master of the strange room. He awaited a command.

"Speak!" said a quiet voice.

"Howard Jennings," said the man in the center of the room, addressing the dim form that stood before the curtains. "Now operating under the name of Graham Jenkins. Serving as valet for Hubert Banks."

"Report!"

"The paper was placed. It worried Hubert Banks. He believes that he wrote it while telephoning. He destroyed the paper.

"He talked about it to his secretary, Vincent. Conversation only partly overheard. Banks was talking about something that happened thirty years ago. A woman dying." "Report on Vincent!"

"A third letter came for him this afternoon. He still does not suspect that I took the second - the one which you still have. I have brought the third letter."

The man reached in a pocket of his coat. He produced an envelope. He advanced timidly, holding it at arm's length.

A black-clad hand extended from the figure that emerged from the curtains. It grasped the letter. The man who had delivered it stepped back.

"Wait here!" came the quiet, commanding voice.

The curtains rustled. The black form disappeared. A deathly stillness settled over the room.

While Howard Jennings, alias Graham Jenkins, was standing uneasily in the room with the gloomy black curtains, a silent man was at work in an adjoining room.

This compartment was a long, narrow room, in total darkness except for spots where small but powerful lights were focused. On a table beneath one light lay an opened envelope and a blank sheet of paper.

Two gloved hands appeared. Despite their black silk covering, the hands worked deftly. They held the letter which Jennings had delivered.

They inserted a thin-bladed instrument beneath the flap of the envelope. Part of the flap moved upward; then a moistened brush was pressed into the opening. A few moments later, the flap lifted up smoothly.

The hands brought out a folded sheet of paper. They carried it into darkness. It was fully two minutes before they reappeared.

This time they held a board, which they placed before another lamp that threw its glare against the wall.

On the board appeared the letter which had been removed from the envelope. The hands went away.

An instant later, something clicked in the darkness. Shortly afterward, the writing began to fade from the sheet of paper beneath the light. It disappeared, word by word.

There was swishing in the darkness - the sound familiar to all professional photographers. A plate was being treated in a developing bath.

A few minutes went by. Then the hands arrived again beneath the table light. They held a photographic reproduction of the letter which had been placed upon the wall. The click had been caused by the operation of a camera!

The duplicated message lay for a while on the table. At last there was a chuckle in the darkness. A low voice read off the message, which had been solved after a brief study of the simple code: Do not leave Banks tomorrow night. Stay with him every minute. Plot now understood since receiving your message. No danger while you are active. House will be watched. Signal if urgent.

Now the hands produced a pad and a bottle of ink. Dipping a pen in the liquid, the right hand wrote a few words on the top sheet of the pad. The ink dried in a few moments. It remained in view for about one minute. Then it disappeared. There was a chuckle from the darkness.

The hands took the blank folded letter - the one that had been lying on the table before the second was opened. Using the pen, the right hand wrote a short note in code, pausing now and then as though areference were being made to the photographic reproduction.

As soon as the ink had dried, the letter was folded and sealed in its proper envelope.

The operation was repeated with the second letter. Both envelopes having been carefully sealed, the hands gathered them and disappeared from the light. Soft footsteps moved through the darkness.

The curtain rustled in the outside room. Howard Jennings looked up to see the black form with its blurred white face standing before him in the pale blue light.

An arm moved slowly toward Jennings. He saw two white objects. He grasped them and discovered that they were sealed envelopes.

"Receive instructions," said a quiet voice from the curtain.

"Ready," replied Jennings.

"You will see that Vincent gets these letters immediately," said the voice, speaking in a mechanical monotone. "Express surprise if he asks about the old letter. State that you thought he had received it before.

"Tomorrow night," continued the voice, "you will wait until Vincent has left the house. Then begin the final plan of operation. You understand?"

"Instructions received."

"Remember," said the voice, "you will follow those orders in every detail! Is everything in readiness?"

"All is ready!"

"Be sure that Banks has telephoned for Chalmers. There must be witnesses on hand. Remember, after Mr. Barton has arrived."

"All is ready."

"And remember" - the voice was low and threatening - "remember that your name is Graham Jenkins, not Howard Jennings! Remember that your only protection is The Black Master!"

The man in the center of the room shifted his position uneasily. His face was pale in the shimmering light.

"Ten years in the penitentiary awaits you," the voice went on. "Ten years - if the word is spoken. Your safety depends upon your faithfulness!

"And remember, also, that if you fail, or if you speak a single betraying word, you will never serve those ten years. Instead you will die! You will die at the word of The Black Master!"

Jennings nodded.

"Guard every action," said the voice. "The Black Master will excuse no failure! He does not wait for explanations. He strikes down those who disobey his will. Tomorrow night you will witness his vengeance."

The lights in the room flickered three times. It was a signal which Jennings understood. He reached in his pocket and drew forth a small object which he held upon his outstretched hand. It was the black disk that symbolized the power of The Black Master. The lights flickered once again. Jennings turned and opened the door. He stepped into the outer hall. The door closed behind him. The shrouded room was plunged in darkness.

Jennings groped his way from the house. He stole cautiously along the alley. He walked briskly down the street, turned a corner, walked another block and came to an avenue. There he hailed a pa.s.sing cab.

As the valet stepped into the waiting vehicle, a dark shadow seemed to form about him. The man did not notice it.

He gave the driver a destination not far from the home of Hubert Banks. As the cab moved away from the curb, Jennings did not look back. Thus he failed to see the tall figure clad in black that stood by the wall of the nearest house.

But he did crouch in sudden alarm at the sound which reached his ears. From some unknown place came the low, weird tone of a chilling, mocking laugh that aroused terrifying thoughts. It made Jennings remember the weird room where he had received his final instructions.

More than that, it brought back chilling remembrances of stories that he had heard in the underworld, before he had come beneath the sway of The Black Master. Jennings had heard the laugh of The Shadow!

CHAPTER XV. HARRY OBEYS ORDERS.

ON the morning of June 1st, Harry Vincent found two letters lying on the table when he came down to breakfast.

Hubert Banks had not yet risen. Harry was alone in the breakfast room. He looked curiously at the postmarks on the envelopes, then summoned the butler.

"When did these letters come in?" he demanded.

"Graham gave them to me this morning," replied the butler.

"Get Graham, then."

When the valet arrived, Harry lost no time in questioning him.

"One of them came this morning, Mr. Vincent," explained the valet. "I answered the door when the postman arrived. I put the mail on the tray, after sorting it, and while I was doing so, I saw something lying on the floor beside the table.

"It was the other letter, Mr. Vincent. It must have dropped there yesterday. So I put it on the tray, sir, and gave the tray to Hubert."

The man's explanation was reasonable. Harry glanced at the letter in question. The envelope was a trifle dusty.

"It must have been there since day before yesterday," he said. Then he looked at the more recent letter.

"Well, this one bears yesterday's postmark. It's all right Graham."

The valet bowed and left the room.

Harry opened the first letter. It was brief and written in the familiar code: No instructions. Await important letter. Expect it within three days. Acknowledge it without details. Thisapplies to June the first.

He watched the writing disappear. Then he opened the second envelope: Leave house secretly after dinner tomorrow. Wear valet's coat and hat. Take taxicab waiting at corner opposite Uptown Garage. Further instructions in envelope on back seat of cab.

Harry read the message rapidly; then he began to scan the inked lines a second time.

He thought that he had detected a slight error in one of the coded words - something that had never occurred in any message from The Shadow. But before he had found the word in question, the message began to disappear. Harry then recalled that the ink of these two letters had been slightly different in color from the ink used in the first letters. Evidently there had been some change in the chemical formula.

He looked at the two blank pieces of paper. They bore the telltale edge marks of number six and number seven. That gave the letters the authentic proof that was required. It put Harry's mind at ease.

After breakfast, he wrote a brief note, stating that the instructions in number seven would be followed exactly. He went to the drug store to purchase some cigars. The solemn-faced clerk was already on duty. The envelope pa.s.sed from Harry to the clerk.

Hubert Banks appeared in a troubled mood at breakfast. Although Harry had finished eating, he sat and talked with the millionaire while the latter ate his morning meal.

Harry knew instinctively that it would be wise to watch Hubert Banks on this eventful day. The millionaire had made no reference to the date. Harry hoped that he had forgotten it.

The morning went by rapidly. Then, during the afternoon, Banks did the unexpected. He ordered the car and decided to take a ride to Long Island, where work was being done to repair his summer home, which had been damaged by a mysterious fire.

Harry accompanied him, but Banks was silent during most of the journey. Whatever was troubling him, he was at least keeping it to himself, and Harry regarded this as somewhat encouraging. They arrived back in New York at half-past six, in time to dress for dinner.

Hubert Banks possessed a large stock of pre-prohibition liquor, and he had ordered it served plentifully at dinner that evening. While Harry abstained from drinking, he noted that Banks drank much more than was his usual custom.