Bells of Doom

CHAPTER XXI CRIME DISCLOSED

“I SHALL be brief,” asserted Vandrow, with an evil smirk. “The time for bluff is ended. Sometimes a game goes wrong. This one did; but the error will be easily rectified. However” — his dry tone carried a menace — “it will mean some deaths that could have been avoided.

“You have spoken of murder. It is my turn to speak. Murder is my specialty. Some time ago” — this was a chuckle — “I did away with David Claverly. Of course I had an accomplice — his physician, Doctor Humbrell. He made a slight alteration in prescriptions, according to my order. Poor Humbrell — he hesitated at murder; but I knew some facts that would have put him in the penitentiary. So he did the dirty work — and wound up in the canal.

“Yes, I saw that he landed there. That was another easy matter. But here is news for you. I was not alone in my enterprise of evil. There were three men who knew about it. I shall name them. Maurice Dunwell — Stuart Hosker — Willis Beauchamp. They aided and abetted my work.

“Why? I shall tell you. As David Claverly’s lawyer, I knew that he had contracted with a great power corporation. Certain real estate near Torburg would be worth millions once the company was ready to buy it. As David Claverly’s attorney, I could not profit in the deal. But I saw a way to gain a huge share.

“I talked with Dunwell, Hosker and Beauchamp. They liked my scheme. They started it off by undermining David Claverly’s business. The real estate became his sole possession. He borrowed money on it. He died. As attorney for his estate, I saw that the real estate, not money, fell into the hands of the lenders.”

“You crook!” rumbled Zangwald. “If I had known why you handled matters that way—”

“You knew nothing,” interposed Vandrow, with a snarl. “No more out of you, Zangwald.”

He turned to Rosling. The man approached. Vandrow spoke in a low mumble. Rosling nodded and shifted his revolver to Vandrow’s left hand. With two weapons, the lawyer covered the helpless group while Rosling sidled up through the door that led to the cellar landing.

“There are twelve bullets in these two weapons,” observed Vandrow, coolly. “More than enough to slaughter all of you. I am an expert marksman, as Sheriff Locke can testify. His gun, incidentally, lies here at my feet. I have the prosecutor’s revolver in my pocket. Extra bullets, if necessary. Is that understood?”

No one dared move. Vandrow resumed his terse discussion.

“My three friends” — the tone was sarcastic — “did not want suspicion attached to themselves. So they sold their real estate at a small profit. To a dummy holding company that I controlled by straw men. The clean-up was to come later, I was to gain twenty-five percent.

“Not much for the man who was the brain. Moreover, you, Zangwald, held some of the real estate. David Claverly had placed it in your hands as security for a loan. I had to make you take it when I settled the estate. So that things would look on the level, so far as Dunwell and his two pals were concerned.

“Tell us, Zangwald” — the lawyer paused in ironical fashion — “just what did you intend to do with that real estate?”

“I HELD it as security for fifty thousand dollars,” rumbled Zangwald. “I knew the power corporation would want it. I thought Dunwell and those other fellows were fools to sell to a holding company. I intend to sell for a million; to keep my fifty thousand and give the rest to Milton Claverly—”

“You should say ‘intended,’” corrected Vandrow. “Not ‘intend.’ You didn’t talk to young Claverly about it, because you wanted to make sure he was deserving. At present you are well disposed toward him. Too bad, Milton. Too bad.

“I discovered a way to gain all for myself. A simple way. It so happened that David Claverly had a fear of being buried alive. That is why he built this crypt. At the same time, he built the bell-tower. I alone knew that there was a connection between the two.

“Buried here, David could — if he came to life — cause bells to ring from the tower. It was I who had the bells tolled when David Claverly died. Then Lester spread the story that termed them bells of doom. Poor Lester! You were sincere, weren’t you? But you unwittingly helped my cause along.

“I knew that Milton Claverly was coming back to Torburg. I hired Hatch Rosling, chief of my straw men, to get him mixed in crime when he reached New York. We knew that Milton’s past had been none too good; we wanted a real crime pinned to him.

“We thought it worked — that stunt at Messler’s. Then Rosling came here to work with me. I chose murder as my own prerogative. I gave Rosling the key to the crypt so that he could come here and ring the bells of doom.

“I killed Dunwell; then Hosker; finally Beauchamp. I was the man who called Beauchamp and advised him how to get out of town. I was in the garage. I shot him. The fool! He trusted me. Why? Because he, like the other two, had a guilty conscience. They all thought Milton Claverly was after them. They were afraid to talk.

“I now control the holding company. All I needed was the death of Abner Zangwald. As executor of his estate, I would sell his property to that same holding company. So I had to arouse Milton Claverly against Abner Zangwald.

“Those mobsters should have killed you, Zangwald. The rest of us would have come over here, to trap Milton with the goods. Well — it does not matter.” Vandrow paused to calculate. “I shall kill you now, Zangwald. You also, Milton. And all the rest of you. It will look like a gunfray. My word and Rosling’s will be undisputed.”

Milton Claverly was clenching his fists. He wanted to spring upon this fiend. Yet he realized that it would be hopeless. He would die; Vandrow would be forced to deliver a double fusillade. Even though all were doomed, Milton did not wish to speed their deaths.

Vandrow sneered as he saw Milton subside. Steady behind his guns, the master crook put a sarcastic question:

“Have I forgotten anything? Is there any detail which has escaped me? Ah, yes, I can guess your question, sheriff. You took the clappers from the bells; yet the bells rang. You removed the bells; still, they tolled tonight.

“A riddle, isn’t it?” His words were gibing. “Too bad that none of you can answer it. Well, I regret that time is short. That riddle will have to remain unsolved—”

VANDROW stopped short. A sudden sound came to his ears. More terrible than the forgotten clangor of the bells, it filled this crypt with ghoulish echoes.

A sinister laugh, delivered from the outside entrance of the crypt.

Louis Vandrow turned his head. Slowly, his revolvers sank downward. The arch-fiend was trapped. There, just within the steps to the outer door, stood the shape that he had seen before. A figure cloaked in black. Burning eyes staring from beneath a slouch hat.

Looming automatics; big, ponderous deadly weapons — the same that had mown down Louis Vandrow’s firing squad. This was the being whose presence at Zangwald’s had seemed a lucky chance in Vandrow’s mind.

The lawyer thought that he had tricked The Shadow. He had never dreamed that this black-clad master could penetrate the locked door of the vault. Louis Vandrow, supercrook, was trapped by the master of all avengers!