The Shadow - Death From Nowhere Part 10

"They might," admitted Dwight, "but there are certain things I can't understand. I've got to know the answers, Helene, before I can give myself up."

Helene's eyes denoted inquiry.

"I was at the house," admitted Dwight. "I had a gun, and I used it. I was the man that fled by the side door. But I didn't fire the shot that killed Uncle Adam. Worse, I don't know who did. Until I find that out, I'd be a fool to put myself in sight.

"You've been there at the house, all along. Maybe you know something that the police haven't let get into the newspapers. If you do, you've got to tell me. I need your help to prove my innocence. There must be some solution to all this, Helene."

HELENE nodded agreement. She had every reason to believe that the riddle could be answered. Though she did not understand the purpose of The Shadow's present preparations, she had his a.s.surance that they would bring an end to whatever mystery shrouded the death of Adam Rendrew.

She was confident, too, that The Shadow intended to crack the case to-night. But she didn't want to rouse Dwight's hope until she knew the details. She had promised to aid The Shadow, and intended to do so. It would be better to let him talk to Dwight.

"I'm going back to the house," declared Helene, suddenly. "I think, Dwight, that I may learn something there."

"You mean that you've found clues -"

"I mean that clues may come," interposed Helene. "When they do, you will hear from me, Dwight. I can add only this: someone other than the police has begun an investigation that may prove your innocence. Rely upon it, Dwight!"

They went out to the street. She gave a smile as she pressed Dwight's hand.

"You'd better turn in," said Helene. "You need a rest. Get some sleep, Dwight, and forget your troubles until tomorrow. That's what I'm going to do."

Then, Helene was in a taxicab, blowing a kiss from the window. A smile crept to Dwight's tired lips, as if he half believed that his worries were due to end. That smile made Helene give a happy sob, as she was riding back to the old mansion.

Had she known what the immediate future held for Dwight Kelden, her sob would have been one of anguish. New complications were due to hara.s.s the man she loved. Complications which not even The Shadow had foreseen!

CHAPTER XVI.

MURDER BRINGS MURDER.

SOON after Helene's report to Burbank, the contact man heard from The Shadow. Having settled scores with Silk Elredge, the cloaked fighter was ready for the moves that would finally solve the Rendrew murder. He was calling Burbank to send orders to his agents, but the news that The Shadow received caused him to make immediate changes.

a.n.a.lyzing matters more deeply than Helene had, The Shadow came to definite conclusions. He could foresee complications that needed swift attention. He gave Burbank prompt instructions; among them was the order that Helene should make no move whatever, after she returned to the house.

When she phoned, Burbank was to ask her for the combination of the office safe. That given, Helene was to retire, leaving the package exactly where it was. New factors had entered the case, making it preferable for The Shadow to handle future details, instead of Helene.

The Shadow's immediate destination was the Espon Hotel. He reached there in Moe's cab just in time to see Dwight Kelden entering the lobby, back from his meeting with Helene. The Shadow instructed Moe to go inside, and see at what floor the elevator clock stopped when Dwight ascended.

The Shadow took a different route to enter the Espon Hotel. The structure was an old one, fairly tall but very narrow. Moe had parked short of the lights that shone from beneath the dingy marquee. A quick glide took The Shadow past the side of the building, where a fire escape beckoned.

By the time The Shadow had ascended to the fourth floor, Moe was back at the cab. He seemed to be having trouble with the switch that controlled the head lamps. They blinked every time he put them on. Oddly, those blinks were always the same number: seven.

From the fire escape, The Shadow answered with a tiny flashlight that blinked red, green and white signals. He had caught Moe's signal.

Thus learning that Dwight's destination was the seventh floor, The Shadow antic.i.p.ated little difficulty in finding the right room. There weren't many rooms on the individual floors at the Espon; and Dwight's would certainly be one room with a light showing through its transom.

The search, however, was to prove much easier than The Shadow expected.

He had just reached the fifth-floor level, when he heard the m.u.f.fled sound of a gunshot. Pausing, The Shadow calculated the direction from which the noise had come. It had been to the right of the fire escape, and evidently inside the hotel. Whether from below or above, was difficult to determine by the sound itself.

For that, The Shadow used a different mode of calculation. Looping from the fire escape, he saw a light in the corner room on the seventh floor.

Chances were that the shot had come from there; that it was the room to which Dwight Kelden had just gone.

THE SHADOW covered the next two flights with long, swift leaps. He struck an obstacle when he reached the fire exit from the seventh floor. The door was latched, so as to prevent intruders from getting into the hotel.

Rather than waste time by going down and up again by another route, The Shadow devoted his energy to jimmying the door. Woodwork ripped under theprying sharp curved tool which The Shadow clamped to an automatic muzzle. He was using the gun as a lever; had the door proven obstinate, he would have blasted it open with bullets.

As it happened, the door gave rapidly, with comparatively little noise, except on The Shadow's side.

Once through the door, The Shadow followed a roundabout line of short pa.s.sages. He went by an inner stairway, then pa.s.sed the elevators. His route doubled back, and brought him to the door of the room he wanted. It was partly open; peering through the s.p.a.ce, The Shadow swung it wide.

Two men were in that room. One was Dwight Kelden, half stooped to the floor holding a revolver in his hand. The other man was p.r.o.ne; his head wabbled crazily as Dwight lifted it. A dead face twisted into the light; as Dwight stepped back, The Shadow saw the features clearly, along with the splotch of blood against the victim's s.h.i.+rt front.

The dead man was Froy. The withery servant had been murdered by a bullet straight to the heart!

The Shadow swept forward. Dwight must have heard the swish of his flowing cloak, for the young man wheeled with a startled exclamation. Again, he was clamped by the same clutch that had caught him on that other night, when the cloaked visitor had arrived in a hotel room.

This time, Dwight didn't make a struggle. He was overwhelmed too swiftly to begin one. Moreover, no mob was around to intervene on this occasion. Flung to a chair, Dwight felt the gun go from his grasp and heard it clank the floor.

He was looking into the muzzle of an automatic that had a yawn like a cannon.

Recognizing The Shadow, Dwight tried to accept him as a friend. They had been allies, to a degree, during that fight of another night. Somehow, Dwight suspected that The Shadow might be the "other investigator" that Helene had mentioned.

Nevertheless, the cornered man let his hands come to shoulder level. From deep in his chair he made a short side gesture toward Froy's body, and gulped: "I didn't kill him!"

There was sincerity in Dwight's plea - enough to make The Shadow willing to hear more, particularly because this scene fitted with his own a.n.a.lysis.

Dwight heard The Shadow's whisper; it gave him encouragement. He began to stammer facts; how he had called Helene, had met her, and then returned here.

"I saw the body and the gun beside it," he blurted. "I thought it was my revolver - that I'd left here. But it wasn't mine. It's a .38 caliber; mine is a .32 that I keep in my suitcase."

The Shadow saw the suitcase, swung it open. Except for a few clothes, the bag was empty. The Shadow's gaze swung toward Dwight, who thought he saw accusation in the glow of the burning eyes.

"It was there, I tell you!" expressed Dwight. "My own gun - the one I brought from California - a special model -"

IT wasn't The Shadow who suddenly interrupted. The sound that made Dwight halt was the distant clank of an elevator door. It brought the tone of low-buzzed voices that carried easily through these corridors.

The Shadow took a swift look into the hallway, hoping to find some outlet where he could take Dwight and prolong the interview. Dwight, unfortunately, didn't get the point.

To his frantic mind came the thought that The Shadow was against him. In his madness, he actually believed that the black-cloaked stranger was responsible for his present dilemma. With a sweeping grab toward the floor, Dwight scooped up the revolver that he had dropped and launched himself directly for the fighter in black!

The Shadow came around with a long twist that brought him inside the doorway before Dwight reached it. He could easily have beaten Dwight to theshot, for the frantic man hadn't gotten his finger to the gun trigger.

But The Shadow didn't use his own gun at all. He drove his free fist for Dwight's chin, met it as it arrived. The blow hooked Dwight clear from the floor, sprawled him halfway to Froy's body.

As Dwight fell, his hand gripped more tightly on the gun. There wasn't time for The Shadow to go after the incriminating revolver. Whisking out through the doorway, he blended with the darkened end of the hallway just as three men shouldered into sight. Sighting the leader of the trio, The Shadow had a real surprise.

The squad was headed by Inspector Joe Cardona!

Only a tip-off could have brought Cardona here; and The Shadow had not supplied it. In fact, Cardona couldn't have had time to go back to headquarters, after the battle with Silk Elredge and the mob. The Shadow had seen Joe talking to Silk, but he was positive that the dead gambler could not have known where Dwight was.

Then came the real answer; one that fitted perfectly with facts that The Shadow had learned tonight. Froy's death dropped right into its proper place, completing the entire sequence, explaining the arrival of Joe Cardona as a natural consequence. But that wasn't helping matters at present.

Cardona and his men were through the doorway, to find Dwight on his feet.

Moving to a closer angle, The Shadow saw Dwight clutch the revolver, crazed enough to begin a blind fire. Fortunately, Cardona reached him and knocked the gun from his hand. Dwight was still half groggy from The Shadow's punch.

"We've got you, Kelden!" gruffed Cardona. "This time, you couldn't get away. Here, you guys" - Joe shoved Dwight into the grip of the two detectives -.

"hang onto him."

The Shadow saw Cardona stoop beside the body on the floor.

"So you killed Froy," growled Joe. "How come? Did you have it in for him, too? Along with your uncle?"

Dwight's lips clamped shut. He was pale, but his eyes were defiant.

Cardona furnished a grim smile. When chaps went sullen, they usually held out for a long while. The thing to do was find a way to crack them.

Cardona picked up the telephone, made a call to headquarters. After summoning a police surgeon, he called Commissioner Weston.

FIRST, Cardona reported the matter of Silk Elredge and made mention of Archie Dreller. Weston must have retorted something, for Cardona grimaced.

Then he grinned.

"You say Archie couldn't have done it?" queried Cardona. "All right...

Yes, I agree.... Certainly, commissioner, I know I'm supposed to find Kelden...

Yes, that's what I'm calling you about. I've got Kelden...

"No, not Dreller... I've got Kelden... How? On a tip-off that came into Markham while I was out... Where? Up at the Espon Hotel... Well, no, he didn't make trouble for us, but he's done another murder...

"Froy is the victim... No, Kelden hasn't told us why he killed him...

Certainly, I'll make him talk, commissioner... Yes, I'll bring him down to the Rendrew house... How soon will I have him there? Inside an hour... Yes, there'll be some details here, first..."

The Shadow was gliding out through the hallway, heading for the fire escape. Once there, he phrased a whispered laugh. Matters had taken the very turn he wanted. Despite the new complications, they promised the results that The Shadow had planned. Weston's decision that Dwight should be grilled at the Rendrew mansion would put the next scene where it properly belonged.

The arrangement was saving The Shadow the necessity of another call to Cardona, to make that very suggestion. Valuable time had been placed at The Shadow's own disposal, giving him a full hour in which to set the stage forthe real climax.

Murder had brought murder. Rendrew's death had led to Froy's. Dwight Kelden stood accused of double crime, and every shred of evidence known to the law pointed directly to his guilt.

What Dwight's case would be when new evidence finally appeared, only The Shadow knew!

CHAPTER XVII.

CRIME'S LAST HOUR.

AT the exact time of The Shadow's departure from the Espon Hotel, Helene Graymond arrived back at the Rendrew mansion. She used her pa.s.skey to enter, thinking that perhaps Froy was asleep.

It was getting late, but no one else had arrived home. Helene hurried to the telephone and called the number that she had used before. She gave Burbank a brief report of her interview with Dwight, and received the instructions that had been awaiting her return.

Burbank, it happened, had not yet learned of Froy's death. He simply a.s.sured Helene that all was satisfactory at present, and that she was to leave The Shadow's package where she had hidden it. He asked for the combination of the office safe and Helene gave it.

When Helene inquired what she should do next, Burbank politely replied that she was to go to bed, and stay there. With that announcement he hung up, leaving Helene staring at the telephone.

Defiantly, she banged the telephone on its table and went into the office.

She felt that she had been taking orders from too many sources. She was tired of obeying the police, John Osman, and The Shadow. She had followed such orders because they were reasonable; but when it reached the point where her bed-time was being scheduled for her, she was ready to rebel.

It was five minutes before Helene's anger cooled. By that time, she had reluctantly conceded that the final order was probably the most sensible of all. If The Shadow intended to reopen the Rendrew case, everyone would be questioned.

Matters might go badly, if the law learned that Helene was in love with Dwight Kelden. Obviously, The Shadow preferred to have Helene stay out of sight until the proper time.

The only place where she could go, was bed. That realized, Helene decided to obey. She turned out the office light and went upstairs to her room. There, thinking of Dwight, she brought his photograph out from its hiding place, gazed at it smilingly, while she let down her long hair.

"Don't worry, dear," she whispered to the picture. "All will be well by to-morrow. Then I won't have to tuck you out of sight any more. Right now, though" - she gave the photograph a kiss, and folded it - "I'm putting you safely away. Good night!"

Helene replaced the photograph in the bottom of a drawer and promptly began to undress. Her clothes felt light tonight, and she was smiling, instead of fighting against sobs. True, her eyes had tears, but they were glad ones.

The bed seemed softer than ever, and after she had turned off the lamp beside it, the girl snuggled her head in the pillows, quite content to go to sleep.

Helene wanted to wake up and find it morning; to learn that crime was solved, with Dwight no longer implicated. She thrilled at the thought that she might be the first to call him and tell him that everything had turned outexactly as she had promised.

Helene was half asleep, when another picture came to mind; one so vivid, that she believed it must be real. She could see The Shadow, entering the side door of this very house, coming up the stairs, to find the package that she had left for him. Then he was going downstairs again, to the office. There, he was opening the safe, taking out Froy's metal box!

AWAKENING with a start, Helene turned on the bed lamp. Half an hour had pa.s.sed; maybe her dream was real! Turning off the light, she stole out to the hallway and reached behind the big chest. Yes, the package was gone. Then Helene found herself at the head of the stairs, looking down.

She saw the blink of a flashlight, moving in the direction of the side door. Another token of departure, like the one that night when The Shadow had searched the courtyard. Fancying that she heard the side door close, Helene stole back to bed.

Helene was hardly in bed again, before another sound actually alarmed her.

This time, she heard the side door slam; she was sure of it. Then there were footsteps, loud ones, that came up the side stairs and finally ended at Helene's very door!

Upright in bed. Helene saw the door swing open; then gave a long sigh of relief. It was only Louise Dreller.