Bells of Doom

CHAPTER III THURSDAY NIGHT

THE Laurentic had docked. Thursday night had arrived. Augustus Messler was at home in his Riverside Drive apartment. This was the evening scheduled for the display of the rajah’s gems.

Messler lived on the fourth floor of an imposing apartment house. Situated on an eminence above the river, this building appeared lofty from the Drive. Observed from the streets above, it nestled against the side of the hill and lost its high proportions.

From that direction, where thorough-fares were seldom frequented, approach to the apartment house was an easy matter. A side entrance — a fire tower — both offered opportunity for easy access to the building.

It was on one of the rear streets that a coupe had stopped. Two men, in the darkness of the car, were talking in low voices. Their conversation ended as a sibilant whisper came from the street side of the coupe.

Instructions followed, delivered in a strange, uncanny voice. Then blackness detached itself from the side of the car. Streetlights revealed a glimpse of a fleeting form that moved away in ghostlike fashion. After that, blackness alone was dominant.

The two men stepped from the car and followed in the direction that the phantom shape had taken.

These two were Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland. Aides of The Shadow, they had driven to this spot, there to await instructions. The Shadow had investigated the methods of approach to Messler’s apartment. He had given his agents orders, to post them in strategic places.

THE SHADOW reached the fire tower. He ascended. The only traces of his passage came when he passed lighted balconies that indicated the floors of the building. There his form materialized momentarily, only to fade when he continued his ascent.

The Shadow reached the fourth floor.

There were two entrances to Messler’s apartment. The one that led to the kitchen was situated near the fire tower. The other entrance was further along the hall. The Shadow chose the kitchen entrance. He passed through the kitchen and came to a deserted living room.

There was a door opposite. It was ajar. The Shadow could hear the sound of voices. He approached and peered within. He saw Messler talking with Milton Claverly; the two were in a room that was fitted like a study. Evidently Claverly had been the first of the guests to arrive.

The Shadow listened to snatches of conversation; then came an interruption — the buzz of the bell at the front door of the apartment. The Shadow turned and glided quickly across the living room. He chose the path through the dining nook; here he paused.

Messler had come from the study and was on his way to answer the door. The Shadow could hear the opening of the barrier. Voices followed and two men appeared, following Messler back to the study. The Shadow, gazing from his secluded corner, recognized the visitors.

Both were from headquarters. One was Detective Joe Cardona. A stocky, swarthy-faced individual, Cardona was recognized as an ace among dicks. He was at present serving in the capacity of acting inspector. His presence here meant that Messler had decided that police protection would be necessary when the rajah’s jewels were displayed.

Cardona’s companion was Detective Sergeant Markham, who frequently accompanied the ace when Cardona needed an aide.

As the three men — Messler and the sleuths — went into the study, The Shadow laughed softly. His tones were not audible beyond the confines of the dining nook.

The arrival of these representatives of the law introduced a new element into the situation. Apparently, Messler had arranged for Cardona and Markham to arrive before the guests appeared. Claverly, however, had come early. He happened to be present for whatever conference was under way.

This fact afforded opportunity to The Shadow. Instead of returning across the living room, to listen in at the study door, The Shadow remained in the dining nook. Swiftly, he divested himself of hat and cloak. He stowed these garments in a small curtained cupboard; to them, he added a brace of automatics.

When he again faced the soft light that came from the living room, The Shadow was in the guise of Lamont Cranston.

With long strides, The Shadow crossed the kitchen and went into the outer hall. He moved to the main door of the apartment and rang the bell.

There was a short pause; then the door opened and Messler appeared. The host appeared relieved to observe that the guest was Cranston.

“HELLO,” said Messler. “I hoped it would be you, Cranston. I had not expected anyone to be here so soon.”

“I am the first?” came the quiet question.

“Er — no” — Messler hesitated — “Claverly is here already. I — well, we have a while yet, and I think you had better come into the study. We have a sort of conference going on.”

“Between you and Claverly?”

“Not exactly. Claverly just happened to be here. Other persons are concerned. It will be all right for you to join us, Cranston. By the way — where is your hat and coat?”

“At the Cobalt Club.” A thin smile showed on Cranston’s lips. “The night was mild, so I strolled outside without them. Stanley — my chauffeur — happened to come along with the limousine, so I stepped aboard and came here.”

Messler was conducting Cranston across the living room. They reached the door of the study as Cranston’s statement was completed. They entered. Cranston seemed mildly surprised to see Joe Cardona and Markham.

The headquarters men knew Cranston. He was a friend of the former acting police commissioner, Wainwright Barth; he was also acquainted with Ralph Weston, the present commissioner, who was back at his old job again.

Messler had evidently told Cardona that Cranston was among the guests; for the detective did not show surprise as he shook hands with the arrival.

The men seated themselves about the study. Messler took a chair behind a desk; Claverly was close by. Cranston sat down near Cardona and Markham. Like the others, he waited for Messler to speak.

“Let me resume,” said Messler. “I have time to give Mr. Cranston a brief explanation of what is impending. Since he knows you, Cardona, he has probably guessed that you are here on account of the rajah’s jewels.

“The jewels, Cranston, are in that safe” — Messler pointed toward a strong-box set in the wall of the study — “and I intend to bring them out after all my guests have arrived. In the meantime, I — well, I have become a bit concerned about the gems, I thought — or better, suspected — that there might be danger here tonight.

“So I arranged for protection. These two men” — he indicated Cardona and Markham — “will station themselves here in the study, to be ready in case any trouble may occur. I decided — when Claverly arrived early — that it might be well to take certain persons into our confidence.

“Claverly is one; you are the other. I have revolvers here” — Messler paused to bring the weapons from the desk drawer — “and if it is all right with Cardona, I shall have you two men equip yourselves with these guns. Is that satisfactory, Cardona?”

“All right,” responded Cardona. “But don’t say anything to the rest of the guests.”

“Certainly not,” agreed Messler. “I shall have a revolver of my own. We three will be in the living room; Cardona and Markham will remain here. Of course, gentlemen” — this was to Cranston and Claverly — “we must not use our weapons except in case of emergency. Should any marauders appear here, I feel sure that Cardona and Markham can deal with them.”

KEEN eyes were upon Milton Claverly while Augustus Messler was speaking. Those were the eyes of The Shadow, peering from the masklike countenance of Lamont Cranston.

The Shadow knew that a brief conference had been held prior to his appearance as Cranston. Hence he was not surprised to note that Claverly appeared unperturbed.

In fact, the young man from Australia was more suave than usual. He chanced to speak to Messler while The Shadow’s eyes were watching him. Unconscious of the critical gaze, Claverly appeared completely at ease. The part that he was playing seemed quite in accord with Messler’s plans.

The discussion continued. Messler had chosen the study as the best place for Cardona and Markham to be stationed. While in this room, the men of the law could guard the safe. Later, they would hold a commanding position, for the study door gave a view of the outer door of the apartment and a portion of the dining nook.

Claverly was listening to Messler’s plans. Accepted as a confidant by his host, Claverly had become an inside man on both games. He knew that a raid was coming; he also knew what steps were being taken should marauders visit this place tonight.

The Shadow, in turn, knew the plans that had passed between Claverly and Rosling, aboard the Laurentic. The thin smile that showed upon Lamont Cranston’s lips was the only reflex of the thoughts that were passing through The Shadow’s keen brain.

Upon Claverly depended the signal for the raid. It would be impossible for Claverly to get word to Rosling that the police were here. Yet Claverly could easily offset the efforts of the law by simply withholding the required signal. That, at least, would mean stalemate. Cardona and Markham waiting within; crooks lurking without; no meeting between the opposing forces.

But did Claverly intend to forego the signal? Something in the man’s easy manner had impressed The Shadow. Those keen eyes that stared from the visage of Lamont Cranston were unflinching in their steady survey. The Shadow could observe something that others did not notice — a tenseness that Claverly showed in spite of his apparent ease.

A BUZZER sounded. More guests were arriving. Messler arose from his chair and indicated the door. He waited until Cranston and Claverly had walked into the living room. Then he followed. He closed the door of the study behind him, leaving Cardona and Markham on guard with the gems.

Messler admitted his guests. They were the first of several arrivals who came in quick succession. All were wealthy men, friends of Messler’s.

Half an hour after the conference had ended, there were a dozen guests seated about Messler’s living room. This completed the expected quota.

Interest was in the air. All were anxious to see the rajah’s jewels. Messler decided to end the impatience of his guests. He entered the study and was gone for a few minutes.

When he returned, he was carrying a long, flat box. This was the receptacle that held the jewels from India.

Men gathered about. Exclamations sounded as Messler opened the box to reveal a dazzling display of gems. Blood-red rubies, sparkling sapphires and deep-green emeralds vied in resplendent beauty.

After the first inspection, the throng spread slightly. Guests listened while their host began to display the jewels one by one, giving a brief history of each stone as he showed it.

Milton Claverly was standing by the window. Keen eyes watched the young man raise the stump of a cigarette to obtain another light. The Shadow, watching, knew that the action could be viewed by anyone outside the apartment building.

Claverly flicked the stump from the window, turning in that direction as he did so. His gaze steadied off toward the drive, to the lights that followed the line of the Hudson River. From below, quartered in the seclusion of the side street, any watcher could have noted Claverly’s procedure.

A smile was firm on the lips of Lamont Cranston. In this guise, The Shadow was ready to thwart the attack that he knew must follow. For Claverly’s action meant one thing only: The inside man had passed the signal that was to bring in workers of crime.