The Shadow - Serpents Of Siva Part 7

The Shadow ordered his agents to carry Lucky through that route, leaving it to Cliff to talk to the fellow later. Cliff understood. He and Hawkeye departed with their burden. The Shadow took the more difficult route that led to the dacoit's trail.

He had reached the street when he saw police closing in on the very pa.s.sage that Cliff had chosen. Pointing an automatic upward, The Shadow fired two shots. That brought the officers in his direction. They saw the gun spurts, but they did not spy the shape that took to a blackened stretch across the street.

When they arrived at the spot where the shots were fired, The Shadow was gone.

From the alleyway that Hawkeye had mentioned, The Shadow saw his agents lug Lucky past the garage. The patrolmen were too puzzled over the disappearance of the unknown gunner to look in the other direction. His agents clear, The Shadow sought the dacoit's trail.

Blobs of blood furnished the needed route. The dacoit had been badly injured by his long fall. The telltale splotches crossed the next street, entered a s.p.a.ce between two buildings on the opposite side. Another block, and The Shadow saw the dacoit himself.

The Hindu was crawling into a taxicab; its number was that of the cab that had brought Mayland to the Riverbank Apartments.

Just before the taxi wheeled away, The Shadow leaped to the rear b.u.mper.

Pressed close to the trunk rack, he clung there despite the increased pain from his wounded side.

The cabby chose secluded streets, until he reached an East Side avenue.

There, he sped several blocks beneath an elevated, made a turn and stopped on a side street.

The dacoit alighted; he began a huddled sneak into the darkness. The driver saw him depart; never guessed that the Hindu was badly injured. Close to the place he wanted, the dacoit was making a convulsive effort to reach it.

The cab pulled away, leaving The Shadow on the street, unseen.

BACK at the Riverbank Apartments, the law had taken over. Joe Cardona wa.s.standing in the living room of 5 B. watching a physician revive Louis Bolingbroke. Two policemen held Morton Mayland in charge.

Bolingbroke's eyes opened. Stretched in his easy-chair, the blunt-faced man stared toward Mayland. Rearing his head, Bolingbroke panted accusations.

"He tried to murder me!" Bolingbroke pointed to Mayland. "Here in this room! He had his hands on my throat -"

Bolingbroke sank back. Cardona looked at Mayland, who was standing subdued and bewildered. Cardona demanded to know what Mayland had to say for himself.

The old man gave an ugly chortle. His eyes flashed new hatred.

"Bah!" uttered Mayland. "I lost my temper, that was all. But when my anger pa.s.sed, I was satisfied. Bolingbroke hoaxed me into coming here - through Rensh.e.l.l."

"Courtney Rensh.e.l.l?" quizzed Cardona.

Mayland nodded.

"Where's Rensh.e.l.l right now?" demanded Joe. "Did you see him tonight?"

"No," replied Mayland. "The last time I saw Rensh.e.l.l was at my home."

"Then that's where we're going," snapped Cardona, inspired by a sudden hunch. "We'll hold the rest of the questions until we get there. Meanwhile, you're under arrest, on a charge of attempted murder."

In the back of Cardona's mind was his recollection of Mayland's old house, that loomed as gloomy as a silent mausoleum. Cardona had a.n.a.lyzed it as a likely place for murder. He wanted a chance to go inside that mansion, and Mayland's attack on Bolingbroke had provided it.

The triple trail was complete. Lucky Belther was in the hands of The Shadow's agents. The Shadow, himself, had followed the crippled dacoit to a hidden lair. Joe Cardona held Morton Mayland in custody.

Of those trails, two were The Shadow's own. The third, acquired by the law, was one that The Shadow could pick up whenever he might choose.

For the present, The Shadow was most concerned with the Hindu whose course he had pursued.

The Shadow had found a living Serpent of Siva!

CHAPTER XII.

CRIME'S PROOF.

Two hours produced big results for Joe Cardona. When the ace inspector worked on a case, he kept many men in motion. Once back at Mayland's house, Cardona displayed no hurry in his questioning of the elderly suspect. Joe was awaiting facts from other quarters.

He and his men were in Mayland's upstairs sitting room; frequently, Cardona was called downstairs to the telephone. Each time he made a trip, he left Mayland in the custody of stolid-faced detectives. The hostile looks of those watchdogs worried Mayland.

Meanwhile, Harry and Lucille arrived home from the theater. Cardona met them in the lower hall; checked on the fact that they had attended the meeting of the Siva cult. When Cardona mentioned that he had been there in disguise, Harry remembered the bearded face that he had seen.

To Cardona, however, the events at Bolingbroke's were most important.

When he told of all that had happened there, Harry was puzzled, while Lucille showed horror. Cardona wanted them both to remain in the house for a while but he allowed Harry to make a telephone call. That call was responsible for Cranston's arrival, just at the finish of the two-hour period. The Shadow came in company with the police commissioner, who had come in from the country.

The commissioner, Ralph Weston, had chanced to meet his friend Lamont Cranston, during a chance stop at the Cobalt Club, of which both were members.

As Cranston, The Shadow looked as calm as ever. His appearance was as usual, except for a slight bulge beneath the left side of his tuxedo jacket.

The Shadow had found time to have his wound attended.

Cardona was pleased to see Weston and Cranston. The ace was ready to spring a surprise. He buzzed to a detective who was stationed in the downstairs hall. The fellow nodded. Cardona conducted the others up to the sitting room.

Morton Mayland narrowed his beady eyes when Cardona entered. He scarcely noted Lucille and the others. Mayland could tell that Cardona was ready to release a bombsh.e.l.l. He tightened his lips in readiness.

"You've answered a lot of questions, Mr. Mayland," declared Cardona, steadily. "I'm going to repeat a few of them and let you answer them again."

Mayland shrugged. There wasn't much threat in that a.s.sertion.

"WHEN did you last see Courtney Rensh.e.l.l?" demanded Cardona.

"A few weeks ago," replied Mayland. "When he called to see Lucille."

"And you next heard from him -"

"When I received this letter." Mayland produced it. "Rensh.e.l.l sent it from Havana."

Cardona brought out some papers from his pocket, compared them with the letter. Mayland smiled dryly.

"You will find," he declared, "that Rensh.e.l.l's signature is bona fide."

Cardona did not doubt the statement. The Shadow saw Joe stroke his finger along the top line of the letter, where the date was typewritten. There was a roughness there that Cardona had detected. The ace laid the letter aside.

"One more question, Mr. Mayland," put in Joe. "You say that you heard from Rensh.e.l.l since you received this letter?"

"Certainly," replied Mayland, crisply. "He called me on the telephone this evening. He wanted me to meet him at the Riverbank Apartments, in suite 5 B.

So I went there, only to find Bolingbroke."

"Why do you suppose Rensh.e.l.l called you?"

"Probably because Bolingbroke put him up to it."

"But Bolingbroke declares he never heard from Rensh.e.l.l."

"Bah! Bolingbroke is not to be trusted!"

The Shadow was watching Mayland closely. The old man had certainly provided an explanation for a telephone call that he had actually received. It also could account for his hurried departure from the mansion. Nevertheless, the answer did not satisfy Cardona.

"You have tried to establish one fact," Joe told Mayland; "namely, that Rensh.e.l.l has been heard from within the past few weeks. You have a letter to prove he was in Havana a week ago; you declare you heard his voice over the telephone tonight."

Mayland nodded. Cardona beckoned to a detective. The d.i.c.k brought an object that looked like a large flashlight equipped with an extension cord.

Cardona plugged the wire into a floor socket. The device was a portable ultraviolet lamp from the police laboratory.

Cardona flicked the purplish rays on the letter. Under the revealing glare, the date line showed new features. Like ghostly images, other typewritten words appeared there. They showed a date a year old!

Cardona wheeled to Lucille, with the question: "Did Rensh.e.l.l take a trip to Havana a year ago?"

"Why, yes!" exclaimed the girl. "I didn't know where he had gone until he wrote to me."

"That's when he sent this letter to Mayland," snapped Cardona. "And you kept it, Mayland" - Joe was concentrating on the old man - "so you could fake it later. You didn't have to forge Rensh.e.l.l's signature. You simply erased one date and put in another, to make the letter appear recent."

Mayland's face was a riddle. His tiny eyes retained their stare; his lips were tighter than before. He gave no answer to Cardona's impeaching statement.

Joe added another charge.

"Maybe you did get a telephone call tonight," he a.s.serted, "but it wasn't from Rensh.e.l.l. Listen, Mayland; I've just received a report from Detective Sergeant Markham; I sent him over to Rensh.e.l.l's place. He says a box was s.h.i.+pped from there - a long box, something like a coffin. What do you know about that box?"

Mayland shook his head. He did not specify whether the matter puzzled him, or whether he was totally ignorant of it. Lucille was the person who gave answer.

"That must be the box that Jack Sarmon mentioned!" exclaimed the girl.

"He was here - the night before the dory races when he spoke about it!"

"So Sarmon knew about the box?" Cardona had turned to Lucille. "Did he know where it was sent?"

"No. That was a fact he wanted to learn."

"It's one that Markham has found out. That box was s.h.i.+pped to this house!"

A HUSH enveloped the sitting room. Keen eyes watched from the calm face of Cranston; they were noting old Morton Mayland. The accused man was the first to speak. He licked his lips, emitted a cackly laugh, as he declared: "Search these premises! From top to bottom! See what you can find!"

"We've found something already," retorted Cardona. "That back hallway behind the stairs is a pretty short one, Mayland. One of its panels sounded hollow when I tapped it."

The discovery did not perturb Mayland. He merely chuckled, as he turned to Lucille.

"The old side hallway," recalled Mayland. "Remember how drafty it used to be, Lucille? That is why I had the part.i.tion placed there. Of course, those panels would sound hollow."

"Especially the one that opens," jabbed Cardona. "You seem to have had use for that old hallway, Mayland."

Mayland couldn't seem to remember the panel that Cardona mentioned. To jog his memory, the inspector suggested a trip downstairs. When they arrived below, Cardona put detectives to work. They wedged the panel open.

Under the glare of flashlights, the sliding part.i.tion looked very crude, for it set a full inch deeper than the other panels. Cardona stepped through the opening, sprayed his flashlight to the left.

"Another panel, into the house next door," remarked Cardona. "You own that building, don't you, Mayland?"

The old man admitted it. Cardona investigated in the opposite direction; he found the trapdoor that led down into the cellar. The group was ready to goin that direction, when another arrival joined them.

This man was Phineas Leeth. Cardona had left word for him at the Ritz Plaza. Leeth listened, gaping, while he heard all that had happened. Then: "Most amazing; inspector!" expressed Leeth. "Ah! How wise you were to talk with Singhar Bund."

The Hindu's name brought a fierce outburst from Mayland.

"Singhar Bund!" spat the old man. "That faker who duped my niece! He and his Siva cult - bah! I warned you, Lucille, to stay away from there. No one can be trusted who believes in that tommyrot!"

"Sarmon was not a member of the Siva group," objected Leeth, seriously.

"He was the one person who was troubled regarding Rensh.e.l.l's disappearance."

"It should have worried me," inserted Lucille, with a cold stare toward old Mayland. "But I was deceived. Not by Singhar Bund, but by my own grandfather!"

Detectives had descended through the trapdoor, to find their way into the next cellar. When they reported, Cardona decided to take everyone to the house next door. They made a roundabout course, using keys that Mayland reluctantly handed over.

Search revealed the empty coal bin, with the steel-ringed slab in the floor. The stone was raised; a ladder was disclosed, leading into a darkened pit. Cardona descended, followed by the commissioner and Cranston.

Detectives let down an extension cord. The glare of an electric bulb showed a squarish room. In one corner was a long box, nailed tightly shut.

That box bore Mayland's address, painted in scraggly letters.

Cardona told a detective to jimmy the box open. The ace had something else to investigate: a metal door that looked like the mouth of an oven, set in the brick wall. Opening that door, Cardona saw a grating covered with ashes. The s.p.a.ce reeked with the odor of burning.

"An incinerator," stated Cardona, "connected with the furnace above.

Look, commissioner!"

Cardona was pointing to human bones among the ashes. As he pulled the door wider, something slipped from beneath its hinge. The unwedged object thudded the stone floor. Cardona picked it up.

The object was a wrist watch, badly scorched; but the initials "C. R."