The Killer

CHAPTER XIX THE ACCUSATION

DONALD GERSHAWL and Joe Cardona were standing in the center of the living room. Before them, propped in a chair, was Harland Mullrick. The prisoner was wearily lifting his head. He stared at the men before him.

Two servants, husky, hard-faced fellows, were standing close behind Mullrick’s chair. They were in readiness to seize the man. Cardona waved them back in a motion of his revolver.

“We’ve got you, Mullrick,” he growled. “Now’s your chance to talk. Come clean.”

“About what?” gasped Mullrick.

“Murder,” returned Cardona.

Mullrick stared blankly. He looked toward Donald Gershawl. The financier’s face became stern. He motioned to Joe Cardona.

“Let me talk to him,” he suggested. “Mullrick, we know you for a murderer. You have proven your guilt tonight. You have given away your game. You bluffed the Mexican government into an option to develop mines which you had not located.

“You were afraid that someone would spoil your illegal game. You came here to New York to look up the men who stood in your path. You found Roy Selbrig. You rode with him in a taxicab, where, at your signal, he was slaughtered by gangsters.

“You brought Burton Blissip to New York. In his room at the Hotel Goliath, you planted a poisoned pin among ordinary ones. When he placed his finger upon the pin that indicated the city of Guadalajara, he received an injection that produced his death.

“Anonymously, you sent a peculiar cane called a Penang lawyer to Sidney Cooperdale. You called at his home. You released a species of snake known as the naja haje — a deadly serpent that was within the cane. When Cooperdale entered his bedroom, the snake struck him.

“You came here tonight, ready to murder me. I was too well guarded. My very position saved me from your strategy. You intended to shoot me; then to fight your way out. I was the last of your four intended victims. Detective Cardona has shown me the list you kept.”

Donald Gershawl stared directly at Harland Mullrick, watching for the man’s reaction. Mullrick slumped back in his chair. Gershawl smiled. The man seemed incapable of denial, now that his deeds had been set forth.

Mullrick weakly rubbed his head. He stared from Gershawl to Cardona; then back to Gershawl. A glimmer of sudden hope appeared in his eyes.

“Where’s Jerry” — his voice broke — “Jerry Herston? He knows where I was those nights. He can prove my innocence. Jerry—”

A SUDDEN recollection dawned in Mullrick’s mind. The call that he had made to Pascual! He remembered the servant’s statement that Jerry Herston had been slain.

A laugh came from Donald Gershawl, as the financier voiced the thought that was in Mullrick’s mind.

“Your friend,” said Gershawl, in a sarcastic tone, “is dead. Do not look for alibis from Jerry Herston.”

“Come on, Mullrick,” growled Cardona. “It’s no use. We’ve got you. Let’s hear you talk.”

Mullrick sat bolt upright. His senses seemed to return with a jolt. He looked at the swarthy face of Joe Cardona. Ignoring Donald Gershawl, Mullrick spoke directly to the detective.

“I’ll talk!” he exclaimed. “I’ll talk — and you’ll listen. Are you ready for it?”

Cardona nodded.

“All right,” asserted Mullrick. “I’ll begin with a murder you never heard about. Luis Santo, investigator from Mexico City. Beaten to death on the steamship El Salvador.”

“Put that down,” urged Gershawl. “The man is beginning a complete confession.”

Cardona, seeing that Mullrick was helpless with the servants standing by, pocketed his revolver and pulled out a notebook.

“Luis Santo was my investigator,” declared Mullrick boldly. “He went aboard the El Salvador to return to Mexico. I sent Jerry Herston down there to see that he sailed. I was at the dock, watching Herston. The next day, Herston told me that he had found Santo dead in his stateroom. The body must have been pitched overboard during the night.”

Cardona was making notes. Mullrick paused to give the detective time, then resumed his statement.

“Santo gave me the list of four men,” said Mullrick. “All knew what I wanted; the location of the lost mines in Durango. I intended to meet these men one by one; to offer them, in order, a fair percentage of the profits for their information. Santo said he had not talked with any of the four; that they did not know one another.

“But when Santo was murdered, I knew the truth. Either he had sold out to one of those men, and was killed because he might later confess to me; or else one of the four had gotten wise to his game, and decided to get rid of him for a starter.

“At any rate, I saw I was next. I went ahead with my plan, but I was cautious. I wrote to Roy Selbrig. When I heard from him, he wanted me to meet him in a taxicab. I shied off. I didn’t keep the appointment. That night, Selbrig was killed in the taxi.

“Then I knew more about the game. Someone was after me — one of those four — out to get the others, also. When I didn’t show up, this other person took my place. He gave the signal for Selbrig’s death by simply getting out of the cab ahead of him.

“Selbrig was dead. I decided to play cagey. I made an appointment with Burton Blissip. I was cautious about it. I wanted to see Blissip. I intended to go to his hotel late in the evening. Instead, this same murderer got there ahead of me. He finished Blissip.

“I was mighty careful when I communicated with Sidney Cooperdale. He wanted me to come out to his home; I decided to wait a day or two. The murderer behind this mess knew that I would stall. He went out and planted the snake that killed Cooperdale.

“I didn’t want those innocent men to die. But when they were dead, I knew who was responsible. There was only one left. I resolved to meet him face to face. I did; tonight. There he stands — Donald Gershawl — the man who impersonated me. I know your game now, Gershawl. To have me arrested as a murderer. Only to save your dirty hands the necessity of another murder!”

Donald Gershawl’s smile was cold. The vehemence of Harland Mullrick’s accusation had made Joe Cardona gasp. The detective looked at the millionaire for an explanation.

“Mullrick,” said Gershawl firmly, “I feel sorry for so pitiable a wretch as you. Men of your sort cause trouble for honest persons like myself. Fortunately, your story will fall of its own weight.

“Your alibi maker is dead. That places the burden squarely on you. In a wild fit of hopelessness, you decide that you can accuse me of murdering Selbrig, Blissip, and Cooperdale. Since alibis are apparently necessary, I can give them. I say this, in all fairness, as a response to your accusation.

“On two of the evenings when murder fell, I was with Police Commissioner Ralph Weston: once at his home; once here. On the third, I was guest speaker at the Amalgamated Merchants’ banquet. Those facts settle your accusation.”

Gershawl paused to turn to Joe Cardona. The detective was still taking notes.

“I hope,” declared Gershawl, “that you have set down all these statements, Mr. Cardona.”

“I’ve got them,” returned Joe.

“Then,” resumed Gershawl, “since I have clarified the situation, I may add a bit of analysis that will prove important later on.

“IT is obvious that three men — Selbrig, Blissip, and Cooperdale — were murdered by the design of one man. He was the man in the taxicab; the man who visited the Hotel Goliath; the man who went to Cooperdale’s home.

“Mullrick, in attempting to accuse me, only renders his situation more hopeless. He had reason to murder these three men. He bases his alibis on the testimony of Jerry Herston, who is now dead. There is only one possible way for him to prove his innocence.”

“Which is?” questioned Cardona.

“To produce,” declared Gershawl, “a person who will admit that he was the one who wore the gray fedora; a person who can prove that fact; one who is willing to face the charge of murder in Mullrick’s own place!”

Gershawl’s voice was triumphant. He stared with a smile upon his lips. Then, in a firm tone, he added:

“Mullrick can never perform the task required of him. He, himself, is the murderer. He dares not admit that he was present at the deaths of Selbrig, Blissip, and Cooperdale. There is no living being who would make the admission in Mullrick’s place. No one will ever admit himself to be the person who wore the gray fedora!”

As Gershawl’s tones ended, a sudden hush fell upon the gathered throng. It was like the hush of strange doom. Upon it came the eerie tones of a sinister, mocking laugh that broke like a wave of mighty mockery.

All eyes turned toward the doorway. Donald Gershawl stood transfixed, in the middle of a turn. Joe Cardona sat as rigid as a statue. Harland Mullrick stared with blurred eyes. The two servants who guarded him did not budge a muscle.

There, within the open portal, stood a terrifying form in black. A cloak of sable hue enshrouded the visitant’s body. The upturned collar of the cloak; the broad brim of a black slouch hat; these hid all save a pair of fiery eyes that flashed with commanding light. Black-gloved fists held huge automatics, which covered every man within the room.

Joe Cardona was the only one who recognized the weird master the instant that he saw him. Cardona had seen The Shadow before, but never so amazingly revealed as this. From the detective’s gasping lips came the startled cry of recognition:

“The Shadow!”