Atoms of Death

CHAPTER X BRUCE DUNCAN’S STORY

LATE that afternoon, a taxicab stopped in front of an uptown apartment house. The figure that alighted was that of Lamont Cranston. The Shadow, traveling about in Manhattan, had still retained the millionaire’s guise.

The ground floor of the apartment building housed a physician’s office. The name that appeared upon the brass plate was that of Doctor Rupert Sayre. The Shadow entered the office.

A few moments later, an inner door opened. A serious-faced young man peered into the reception room.

This was Doctor Rupert Sayre. Despite his youth, Sayre had already gained a high reputation as a medical practitioner through study both in America and abroad. To counteract his young appearance, he had cultivated a solemn air that made him look half a dozen years older than he was.

Sayre recognized the features of Lamont Cranston. Well he might, for he had contacted this visitor in the past. In fact, The Shadow — as Cranston — had himself been a patient of the skilled young physician on more than one occasion.

The Shadow had originally performed signal service in Rupert Sayre’s behalf. The physician owed his own life to The Shadow’s intervention, when one Eric Veldon, self-style master of death, had held Sayre prisoner.

Since then, Sayre had ever been ready to perform services for this personage whom he knew as Lamont Cranston. Sayre had hazily identified Cranston and The Shadow as one. He knew that this mysterious friend was constantly battling for right. Under such circumstances, Sayre believed that the rendition of medical aid was both ethical and just.

Last night, Sayre had accepted Bruce Duncan as a patient. There had been no question in the physician’s mind. Bruce had been brought here in Cranston’s limousine. That was sufficient. Today, Sayre had received telephone calls concerning the condition of the patient. He had suggested that Lamont Cranston call at five-thirty.

“How is the patient, doctor?”

The question came in Cranston’s quiet voice. Sayre smiled as he heard The Shadow’s query.

“I owe myself a compliment,” remarked the physician. “My patient was still in a stupor this noon; but I was confident that he would be fully conscious by five o’clock. I was right. Save for the after effects of a slight brain concussion, he came completely to his senses half an hour ago.”

“I can see him then?”

“Certainly.”

Sayre ushered The Shadow through a hallway. They reached an inner room — Sayre’s apartment adjoined the office — and there The Shadow saw Bruce Duncan propped in bed. The young man’s head was bandaged. His eyes were closed as he rested his head back upon his pillows.

The Shadow nodded to Sayre. The physician stepped back into the hall and closed the door, leaving visitor with patient. The Shadow took a chair beside the bed. He spoke in a slight, almost inaudible whisper. Bruce Duncan opened his eyes.

BRUCE’S vision was still blurred. He could barely distinguish the features of his visitor. But he knew, from the whisper that he had heard, that The Shadow had arrived for conference. Bruce tried to speak; then he heard a quiet voice; this time, Cranston’s tones.

“Tell your story,” urged The Shadow. “But use no effort as you do so. Merely mention names as they occur to you. I shall understand.”

Bruce Duncan nodded; then he spoke slowly.

“Some months ago,” he stated, “I met Professor Baldridge Jark. It was purely a chance meeting; but when Jark learned that I had some knowledge of electrical apparatus, he offered me a position as his secretary.”

“That came about in natural fashion?” inquired The Shadow.

“Yes,” acknowledged Bruce. “Much of my income was tied up and I had become confidential secretary for Talbot Lowberry, the banker. It was at Lowberry’s home that I met Jark. The professor, learning that I intended to leave Lowberry’s employ; offered me a job.”

“Proceed,” remarked The Shadow, after a pause.

“Professor Jark wanted seclusion,” declared Bruce. “He was working on a new invention, a disintegrating ray with which he had gained some success. I saw designs of the apparatus. It was a concave projector, broadmouthed but shallow, its inner surface fitted with powerful coils.”

Bruce paused to rest. The Shadow made no comment. He watched the young man’s eyes close and waited until Bruce had again opened them. Bruce reached for a glass of water on the table. The Shadow tendered it. Bruce swallowed a drink and proceeded.

“In his experiments,” said the young man, “Jark discovered that by lengthening the bowl of the projector, he could considerably increase the range of the ray. Roughly, a bowl projector, one foot in depth could cast rays only one foot from its mouth. But by increasing the bowl to a two-foot depth, it would gain a range of eight feet; while a three-foot bowl would send the ray twenty-seven feet.”

“I understand,” nodded The Shadow. “The ratio of the range increase would be the cube of the bowl depth. A geometrical progression.”

“That is right,” stated Bruce. “With a projector thirty feet in length, the professor knew that he could drive his ray twenty-seven thousand feet — approximately five miles.”

“But he must also have learned,” remarked The Shadow, “that the power of the ray would diminish in proportion to the increasing length of the projector.”

“Right again,” announced Bruce. “I believe that his experiments showed a one-half loss of intensity for each added foot of the projector. That meant that the power of the ray would be quite feeble in a thirty-foot projector.”

“How did the ray act with the one-foot projector?”

“Powerfully, I am sure, although the professor was very loath to make admissions. I am positive, though, that his original projector — one foot in depth — was capable of disintegrating substances less than one foot away. Professor Jark must have experienced that much success. Otherwise he would not have proceeded with further experiments.”

The Shadow nodded in acknowledgment of Bruce’s logical statement.

“IT was Jark’s hope,” resumed Bruce, “to produce what he termed an atomic gun. He believed that if he could construct a thirty-foot projector, it would be possible to insert coils all along the tube. He would thus have thirty units combined in one; with this stepped-up power, the atomic gun would gain the strength of the original disintegrator.”

“And that,” inserted The Shadow, “would mean that his gun would destroy any object that came within a five-mile range.”

“So Professor Jark believed,” said Bruce, wearily. “He needed capital for his experiments. He gained it through a promoter named Basil Tellert. It was Tellert who introduced the professor to Lowberry and other wealthy men.”

Another pause while Bruce took a second drink of water. Eyes fully opened, Bruce was surveying his calm-faced visitor more clearly. A bit of enthusiasm showed in Bruce’s voice as he proceeded with his story.

“I handled the correspondence between Jark and Tellert,” stated Bruce “The Professor had his apparatus in the house at 18 Delavar Street. I was living there; and there was also a servant named Harkins. Jark was always eccentric and close-mouthed about his experiments. The only reason I learned as much as I did was because I kept my ears open and made no comment.

“A few weeks ago, Jark wrote to Tellert in reply to a letter from the promoter. In his letter, the professor stated that his atomic gun would surely be a success; but that because of its amazing power, he had decided to offer it to the government. He added that when he did this, he would insist that the original investors be reimbursed dollar for dollar.”

“And Tellert’s reaction—”

“Was one of indignation. He wrote a letter stating that he doubted Jark’s sincerity. He intimated that Jark was a swindler, his disintegrating ray a fake. He told Jark that unless he came clean, within a reasonable period, he could expect prosecution for fraud.”

“What did the professor do about it?”

“That brings me to the strangest part of my story,” declared Bruce, emphatically. “The professor wrote a letter to Tellert stating that he was overworked and needed a rest. He told Tellert that he intended to go on a vacation. That did not surprise me, for I had already overheard Professor Jark making a telephone conversation to a specialist named Doctor Nordis Baird. Apparently, Baird intended to take a trip somewhere in the West, and wanted Jark to go with him for treatment.”

“Had Jark already been undergoing treatment from Doctor Baird?”

“Yes, and his life really depended upon Baird’s treatment. I never learned the exact nature of Jark’s ailment; but I did know that it required certain changes in medicine at irregular intervals. Baird alone could diagnose Professor Jark’s varying condition. If Baird went away from New York, Jark would have to accompany him.”

“Proceed.”

“Tellert must have accepted Jark’s statement. Like myself, others who knew Jark understood the importance of his treatments. I wondered, when Jark sent the letter, whether or not he was trying to deceive Tellert. A few days later came a most remarkable proof that some hidden game was under way.”

Bruce paused to rest. He was coming to the crux of his story, gathering his latent strength in order to be accurate with the facts which he had in mind.

“PROFESSOR JARK left the house one afternoon,” declared Bruce, “stating to me that he had an appointment with Doctor Baird. The next day Jark remained indoors. That evening two men came to call. One was tall and dark-complected. He said that his name was Theblaw. His companion was short and sandy-haired. The name that he gave was Wight.

“They looked like bad customers. With them was another pair, who had the appearance of mobsters. Theblaw and Wight told me that Tellert had sent them; that they wanted they see Professor Jark. Their introduction sounded like a false one; but the whole crew looked so dangerous that I was forced to announce them to the professor.

“They went into an upstairs study, leaving the two toughs on guard downstairs. I realized that the thugs were watching me, so I went about my business in matter-of-fact fashion. The rowdies watched me when I went upstairs, but offered no objections.”

The Shadow raised his hand for a pause, partly because Bruce was tiring and partly because he had a question. He waited for a few moments; then put his interrogation in an easy tone.

“Was this long after the arrival of Theblaw and Wight?” asked the Shadow.

“About a half an hour after they came in,” replied Bruce. “I was wondering if the professor had encountered trouble. That was why I thought it imperative to go upstairs. It happened that the door of the study was ajar; it had never latched properly. I could hear the conversation that was going on within.

“To my astonishment, I overheard Professor Jark talking in a most crafty tone. He was chuckling, almost gloating, enthusiastic as he talked of success. I heard Wight address Theblaw as ‘Matt’; while Theblaw called Wight ‘Digger.’ From their remarks I gathered that Matt Theblaw had important gang connections while Digger Wight was obviously an experienced safe-cracker.

“Then came a buzzing sound. I knew that the professor must have brought in his original disintegrating apparatus, to give a demonstration. After the buzzing ended I heard Jark say that it would require only a few weeks to properly adjust the machine; that if it gave trouble, he could always repair it.

“Theblaw and Wight seemed satisfied. Then I caught some anxious remarks from the professor. He was referring to Doctor Baird. I heard Theblaw assure Jark that he and Digger would see that Baird was at the new place. By that I inferred that Jark intended to change his residence. At that point, I considered it wise to return downstairs.”

Another pause. Bruce had a faraway look, as though reviewing tense days that he had experienced. His next statements came in short, terse sentences.

“MATT THEBLAW and Digger Wight remained,” declared Bruce. “So did their henchmen. Harkins was dismissed. Jark retained me. I knew too much. I knew I was under observation — both from Jark and these men who were always with me. More henchmen arrived at the house.”

A few moments of rest; then Bruce added:

“Professor Jark had previously equipped both the front stairs and the back door with electrical devices to surprise burglars. There was also a side entrance. Its equipment had caused a short circuit; and Jark had removed it for repairs.

“So I knew that if I once managed to leave the house, there would be a method of reentry. Everything was being moved out — apparatus, furniture, files. Where it was going, I did not know. I realized, though, that I would be forced to travel along when Jark and his associates departed.

“My one opportunity was to escape before moving day. I found my opportunity night before last. I fled by the side doorway. I went to the Palladium Hotel. From there I communicated with Harry Vincent.”

Bruce rested back wearily. He knew that The Shadow knew the rest. As Bruce’s eyes closed, the tall visitor arose. Passing into the hallway, The Shadow continued to the office, where he found Doctor Sayre.

“I am starting on a journey tomorrow,” informed The Shadow, in Cranston’s tones. “To Buenos Aires. Take care of the patient, doctor. Allow him to communicate with his friend, Harry Vincent. A friend of mine may also call here — a gentleman named Henry Arnaud. Should he visit you, you may speak to him as confidentially as you would to me.

“Mention that to your patient also. It may prove wise for him to talk to Arnaud on certain occasions. Good night, doctor. I should say, rather, good-by, for you will not see me during the next few months.”

“Bon voyage,” acknowledged Sayre, extending his hand.

Leaving the physician’s office, The Shadow entered a cab and rode toward Times Square. As he neared the brilliant district, glowing light showed the firm features of the disguise that he still wore.

The Shadow’s expression was meditative. His keen brain was piecing Bruce Duncan’s story, adding Bruce’s findings to facts that The Shadow had already gained. Bruce’s reference to Matt Theblaw and Digger Wight was important. The Shadow had heard of both these crooks before.

Jark — Theblaw — Wight — Tellert — Baird — five names had been mentioned by Bruce Duncan. From one of these, The Shadow might gain a clue. That point managed, the master sleuth would have a start along the blind trail that still confronted him.