The Shadow - The Key Part 13

Smiling at the ease with which he had conquered obstacles, Berlett dropped boldly into Markin's house.

He had left the trapdoor overlapping. Moving softly along a thick carpet, he discovered a stout table in the corner. Using this piece of furniture, he mounted to close the trap. Putting the table back in the corner, he stole to the stairs.

When he reached the gloomy first-floor hall, Berlett spied the yawning entrance to the living room.

Darkness lured the intruder. Berlett moved into the living room. He spied the thick dark ma.s.s of draperies.

Again choosing in The Shadow's fas.h.i.+on, Berlett moved to the curtains and found a hiding place upon the window ledge.

Minutes ticked by. Something swished in the outer hall. Berlett did not hear the sound, nor did he see the form that glided in from the hall. The lawyer did not know that another intruder had arrived. The Shadow, following the very route that Berlett had picked, was in Kelwood Markin's living room.

THE SHADOW was stealthy, even in the darkness. He seemed in no haste to gain his usual hiding place.

Hence he was not far inside the door when a sudden dingle announced a visitor to the house. Swerving silently, The Shadow headed for the door of Markin's bedroom. His action was well chosen.

Hardly had The Shadow gained this temporary hiding place before Howland arrived and turned on the living-room lights. The secretary looked about in methodical fas.h.i.+on, then continued to the front door.

The Shadow, quartered in the gloom of Markin's temporary bedroom, decided to remain.

He picked a hiding place behind a huge chair that was close to a fire place. The chair was halfway on the hearth; evidently the gas-log in the fire place was seldom used by Kelwood Markin.

George Tharxell entered the living room with Howland. The junior partner took a chair; Howland left and went back into the study. Tharxell, awaiting the arrival of Lester Dorrington, sat alone, totally unconscious of the fact that two observers were close at hand.

OTHERS were awaiting the arrival of Dorrington. In a parked car across the street from the old house, Ralph Weston and Kelwood Markin were on the alert. In addition, four men from headquarters were posted at vantage spots. Five minutes pa.s.sed. A cab rolled along the street. It stopped in front of Markin's. A man alighted and went up the steps. It was Dorrington, alone.

"Wait," whispered Markin, nervously, as he and the commissioner saw Howland admit the visitor.

Another tense five minutes. Markin opened the door of the parked car. He stepped to the sidewalk.

Weston followed. Both knew that the coast was clear. Dorrington had brought no aids. Together, Weston and Markin crossed to the house. The old lawyer rang his own door bell.

Howland answered and motioned Weston toward the rear. The commissioner tiptoed past the closed door of the living room. Markin and Howland followed slowly, talking as they came. With Weston safely past, Markin opened the door and stepped into the living room. He was greeted by Lester Dorrington.

"Ah!" exclaimed Markin. "I am the one who is late. My apologies, sir. I was out for a short walk. How long have you been waiting, Tharxell?"

"About five or ten minutes before Mr. Dorrington arrived," replied Tharxell. "I can go, sir. If you wish, I can return later."

"No need, Tharxell. Here"-Markin drew an envelope from his pocket - "I have gone over these papers in regard to the Stevenson claim. I can make no criticism of your work, Tharxell, although I have added a few marginal comments. You intend to see Stevenson to-night?"

"I can see him if necessary."

"Do so. Call me afterward. That is, if you finish the business before ten o'clock. Not after ten, Tharxell. I shall be sleeping soundly by that time."

Tharxell departed. Markin took his position behind the table and looked toward Dorrington. The visiting lawyer made a comment.

"You are still engaged in practice, I take it," remarked Dorrington, "even though you do not go to your office."

"My name is still on the door," returned Markin. "Tharxell, however, is in full charge. I have been actually retired for a full year."

"I see," nodded Dorrington. "Then you want to see me regarding an old matter. One of long standing, I suppose."

"Yes," declared Markin. "It concerns the affairs of Rufus Gilwood, deceased. You, I understand, handled his estate."

"I did," said Dorrington.

"I have something here that will interest you." Markin opened a table drawer. He searched without result.

"Hmm. What did I do with it? Wait here, please. I must go to my study. I believe I left it there."

MARKIN went to the door and opened it. He entered the hall and closed the door behind him. He continued to the rear and opened the door of the study. He placed his finger to his lips as he looked toward the three men who were seated there.

"The key," whispered Markin. "The key of the safe deposit box. Where is it?"

"I left it at headquarters," returned Cardona, in a low tone. "Do you have one of the others?"

"No."

"Here is a key"-the interjection came from Howland. "It is one of your own, sir. Will it do?"

Markin nodded as he clutched the key. Howland had brought the object from a desk drawer. Pacing back to the living room, Markin entered and closed the door. Dorrington was puffing a cigar.

"This is it." Markin went behind the table and let the key clatter as he spoke. "This, Mr. Dorrington, was given to me by Rufus Gilwood."

"How long before his death?" inquired Dorrington, curiously.

"A year or more," recalled the old attorney. "I received it in confidence. Gilwood told me that he might return for it. If he did not, I was to open the safe deposit box and distribute the funds that I found there.

They were to go to people named."

"Well?"

"Gilwood never returned to my office. I opened the box after his death."

"What did you find there?"

"Nothing."

Dorrington puffed calmly at his cigar. He made no comment. It was Markin who was forced to speak.

"I knew that you were the attorney in charge of Gilwood's estate," a.s.serted the old lawyer. "But I hesitated to tell you of the matter. The box was empty. What could I do about it?"

"Old Gilwood was an eccentric sort," mused Dorrington. "That may have been his idea of a joke."

"He paid me a thousand dollars as a retainer," returned Markin.

"That makes it different," declared Dorrington. "It placed you under obligation. Under the circ.u.mstances, you should have come to me at once. Why did you not do so immediately after Gilwood's death?"

"Because the box was empty. I was its sole custodian. I might have been accused of theft."

"Of theft?" Dorrington snorted. "Accused of something, Markin, but not of theft. The facts of this case are evident. You and Rufus Gilwood were technically guilty of conspiracy to defraud the government and the commonwealth of inheritance taxes."

"Not so!" challenged Markin. "We did not discuss such matters. Moreover, there proved to be no funds involved."

"The intent for conspiracy was present. You have proven it by your own statement. I was the attorney who represented the estate of Rufus Gilwood. You should have brought the key to me before the box was opened!"

With this a.s.sertion, Lester Dorrington arose from his chair and stepped toward the door. Kelwood Markin stared, his hands clinching the edge of the table.

"You handled the estate," spluttered the old lawyer. "You knew about me- about this key. You are toblame, Dorrington-"

"I?" Dorrington laughed. "Talk facts, Markin, not fancy. You have admitted that your first negotiations with Rufus Gilwood were of doubtful quality. Your failure to communicate with me regarding the key points to conspiracy. Your silence since Gilwood's death is a bad factor in itself; your belated statement of your actions is final proof of the guilt on your conscience.

"I handled Rufus Gilwood's estate in a manner both legal and commendable. I do not care to have the dealings of a shyster foisted upon my enviable record. If you value your own position, Markin, you will keep your silence. Your statements are a discredit to you and to the profession which I represent and you belittle."

Plucking hat and overcoat from the chair where they were laying, Dorrington walked haughtily from the room. He left the door open behind him. He went out through the front while Howland, in response to Markin's call, was peering from the study.

Seeing the secretary, old Kelwood Markin clicked out the light in the living room and hastened along the hall. He joined Weston and Cardona. The old man was spluttering with rage as he closed the door of the study.

THE SHADOW was moving from the bedroom. Silently, unseen by Edwin Berlett, the phantom intruder gained the hall. He moved to the door of the study; merging with darkness, The Shadow listened. He could hear the tones of Markin's indignant voice.

A few minutes later, Edwin Berlett came stealing from the living room. As the departing lawyer neared the steps, The Shadow, hearing the sound of tiptoed footfalls, turned in that direction. Even in the gloom, sharp eyes could distinguish Berlett's dark countenance.

Then came a click from the study. The door opened outward. The Shadow swinging to the wall beneath the stairs, was out of sight behind the swinging barrier. Berlett, on the stairs, continued upward.

The intruding lawyer was on his way from Markin's. His mission here was ended. But The Shadow remained. Hidden behind the opened door, he awaited the events that were to come.

CHAPTER XIX. DEATH FAILS.

"He tricked me!" Markin's tone was querulous as the old lawyer stood by the living room door. "His method proves his scheming. Dorrington accused me to cover his path of crime The man has cunning beyond all measure!"

"He's a fox all right," agreed Joe Cardona. "I never met one like him. He made a sap of me. He made it tough for you, too, Mr. Markin."

"Stamping out of here in indignation," snorted the old attorney. "Accusing me of conspiracy. I should have known it, however"-the old man's tone was pitiful-"because of Dorrington's amazing shrewdness. I tell you, commissioner, the man's methods are ironclad. There is only one way to thwart him; that is through his arrest."

"We still lack evidence," affirmed Weston. "All we can do, Mr. Markin, is afford you the same protection that you have had in the past. You should, however, feel relieved. You remain unharmed despite the fact that Lester Dorrington was here."

"I fear him more than ever," declared Markin, nervously. "I sensed a menace all the time that he was here. The living room seemed charged with a living threat. I am afraid. Terribly afraid." "My men are on guard."

"I fear danger from within. This house is not safe. I have only Howland with me."

"Put a man inside, Cardona," ordered Weston. "Meanwhile, we'll get ready with a campaign to smoke out this man Dorrington. He's got something that he's covering. I could tell it by his tone, over the dictograph. I'm going home, Cardona."

"All right, commissioner," responded the ace. "I'll be here another hour, going over those notes that Howland took. I'll put a man inside before I leave."

Weston departed. Markin, rea.s.sured by the promise of an inside guard, retired to his bedroom. Joe Cardona and Howland went to the study. They left the door open. Seated by the desk, Cardona had a view of the entire hall. Until his departure, the acting inspector was serving as Markin's guard.

IT was half past nine. While Howland typed off his shorthand notes of the talk between Markin and Dorrington, Cardona strolled into the living room. Turning on the light, Joe pried behind the curtains. Just as he finished his inspection, he heard Markin call through the bedroom door.

"Who's there?"

"Cardona," returned Joe. "Everything all right in there?"

"Yes," called Markin. "I'm going to sleep. Don't forget the man is to be on duty."

"I'll remember."

Cardona strolled back to the study. He sat at the desk and drummed while Howland typed. A monotonous half hour went by. At three minutes past ten, the telephone rang. Howland answered it.

"h.e.l.lo..." began the secretary. "Oh, yes... Mr. Tharxell... Can you call in the morning? Mr. Markin has retired... Perhaps we had better not disturb him... Very well, sir, if the Stevenson case has been settled, Mr. Markin might be pleased to know it... Yes, I shall call him..."

The secretary left the study. Cardona watched him enter the living room. He could hear the dull sound of Howland's taps upon the bedroom door. Then came a wild shout. Leaping to his feet, Cardona dashed toward the living room.

Howland had turned on the light. Gaining no response to his knock, the secretary had opened the tight-fitting door to the bedroom. From the hall, Cardona saw Howland struggling to drag Markin from his bed. The smell of illuminating gas was coming from the inner room.

Cardona joined in the rescue. Together, he and Howland dragged Kelwood Markin to the front hall.

Cardona yanked open the front door and gave a whistle. Two detectives came on the run.

Howland was reviving Markin. The old lawyer's eyes were bulging. His hands were moving feebly.

Nevertheless, he was still alive. Gratified by that fact, Cardona dashed into the gas-filled bedroom and turned on the light. Holding his breath, the detective heard the hiss of escaping gas. He swung toward the fire place. Stooping, he plucked at the handle beside the gas-log and turned off the flow.

Back in the living room, Cardona gasped fresh air. On his next trip to the bedroom, he managed to unbar the iron shutters. As the detectives joined him, Joe sent one to call Commissioner Weston. Stooping by the fire place, Joe began an examination of the gas-log. It was then that he uttered a startled exclamation. Clamped to the side of the gas log was a device that captured the sleuth's attention. It was small, clocklike mechanism that issued dull, almost imperceptible ticks.

FROM the device projected an arm that ended in a tiny clamp. This had been attached to the key controlling the gas jet. Some one had placed the mechanism to do its deadly work. The set-up was so simple that it could not have required more than two minutes to affix it.

Joe unclamped the tell-tale machine and carried it to the door of the living room. The detectives arrived at his call, one bringing the news that Commissioner Weston was coming to the house at once. Kelwood Markin, recovered, but pale-faced as he leaned on Howland, also came in from the hall.

"Look at this!" cried Cardona. "It was set to turn on the gas jet. It must have been timed for ten o'clock-after you were asleep, Mr. Markin!"

Eyes stared in amazement. Yet there was one onlooker who experienced no surprise. The Shadow had glided from his hiding place behind the door to the study. Gazing from the hallway, he saw Cardona exhibit the deadly clockwork. Then, with a silent swing, The Shadow moved to the stairs and ascended toward the darkness of the second floor.

Ten minutes pa.s.sed. Kelwood Markin sat slumped in a living-room chair while Joe Cardona talked to the detectives. Then came a ring at the door bell. Howland answered. Two men entered. One was Commissioner Weston; the other, George Tharxell. The two had arrived simultaneously.

"What's happened?" demanded Weston, as he strode into the living room and saw the pallid face of Kelwood Markin.

Joe Cardona told the story. He displayed the clock-work instrument. Weston walked in and took a look at the fire place. He returned to the living room.

"That was put in here to-night!" stormed the commissioner. "Who was the man that did it?"

"Only three persons were in this room," a.s.serted Cardona. "We've got two of them right here now.

Howland and Tharxell."