Atoms of Death

CHAPTER IX DOUBLE FACES DOUBLE

AT eight o’clock the next morning, a coupe pulled up in front of Lamont Cranston’s mansion. As tires crunched on gravel, Stanley came into view from the garage, while Richards, the valet, appeared from the house door. Both men stared in surprise as they saw their master stepping from the coupe.

“I thought you were still asleep, sir,” exclaimed Richards, from the porch. “It was after four o’clock when you arrived home, Mr. Cranston. I did not suppose that you would be rising until noon.”

“I decided to rise early,” came the dry comment. Richards saw a smile fixed on his master’s lips. “You were not about when I called; so I strolled out without your knowledge. You should be more alert, Richards.”

The valet nodded at the rebuke. Yet Richards was puzzled. He would have sworn that his master was still upstairs asleep.

“How did you get the coupe, sir?” inquired Stanley. “You usually keep it in the Manhattan garage. And what about the limousine, Mr. Cranston? I asked you about it when you came in at four o’clock.”

“One question at a time, Stanley,” was the chuckled rebuke. “I drove the limousine into New York and left it there. When I came back, I used the coupe, but left it at the garage near the station.”

“And that was how you happened to be walking in, sir? At four this morning?”

“An excellent guess, Stanley. The air was so delightful at four o’clock that I preferred a stroll; and I decided to take another walk, half an hour ago, down to obtain the coupe.”

Strolling past the puzzled servants, the tall arrival went up the steps to the house. There he paused, to remove an object from his pocket.

“By the way, Stanley” — a toss sent a glimmering gun to the chauffeur — “here is the revolver I borrowed from you. I forgot to give it to you at four o’clock. And Richards, I am going to my room. Do not disturb me. If anyone telephones, tell them I am asleep.”

STANLEY and Richards exchanged astonished glances as their master disappeared through the door. The chauffeur scratched his head. It was beyond him.

“I can’t understand it,” asserted the chauffeur. “The master, coming in at four o’clock, all ragged. Why should he have strolled up from the station?”

“He was very taciturn,” recalled Richards. “And very tired, Stanley. Exhausted, Stanley.”

“He didn’t tell us where he had been. But the air was not delightful, Richards. It was drizzling. Indeed it was.”

“As if I didn’t know it, Stanley. Why, the master’s evening clothes were drenched and bedraggled. It astonishes me! Here Mr. Cranston has slept but four hours; and look at him, as vigorous as ever.”

“He showed surprising agility, Richards, when he sped after those ruffians last night. Well, we did right not to inform the authorities. I was sure that the master would return.”

The servants separated, shaking their heads. They knew their master for an eccentric person; but on this occasion, he had shown activity that seemed almost incredible. Stanley, recalling other perplexities, turned about to make another statement.

“Last evening,” declared the chauffeur, “I had the limousine in town at the club. Mr. Cranston rendered aid to an unfortunate man; then I returned to the club and received word to come back here—”

“But Mr. Cranston had already notified me to expect him,” put in Richards, “and he was here before you arrived—”

“Only to go out again, as if he had not been to New York at all—”

“And then to return to be trapped by those abductors. He was helpless when they seized him, Stanley.”

“But he was free from them, Richards, before they reached the gate! There he was — I saw him with my own eyes — driving after them in the limousine—”

“And walking in at four o’clock, only to arise at half past seven. Strike me, Stanley, I have never known the like of it!”

UPSTAIRS, the tall arrival had reached the door of a front room. Opening it softly, he peered into a chamber where blinds were lowered. A man was sleeping in the bed. The visitor approached, after closing the door, and turned on a reading lamp.

The glare troubled the sleeper. A hand shook his shoulder. Mumbling, the man in the bed sat up, while the other took his seat at the foot. The two were face to face — the man in bed blinking, his visitor smiling. It was a strange scene; for the visages of these two seemed absolutely alike. Double was facing double.

“Good morning, Cranston,” came a quiet tone from the foot of the bed.

“Good morning, yourself,” returned Cranston, rubbing his eyes without noticing the visitor.

“You should say: Good morning, myself,” chuckled The Shadow, dryly.

Cranston was pulling down the sleeves of his pajama jacket. He sat bolt upright, staring. Then a slow smile showed on his lips; one that was almost a replica of The Shadow’s.

“So it’s you,” remarked Cranston, sleepily. “Well, I knew that last night. It was about time we crossed paths again. Well, old man, you landed me in for plenty this trip.”

“I expected that they would release you,” stated The Shadow, “They didn’t want me when I made them think that I was you. So it was logical that they would not hold you after they learned you were yourself.”

“They didn’t,” admitted Cranston, “but they were so anxious to elude you that they did not stop for a dozen miles. Then they ditched me most unceremoniously in the middle of a country road. I walked back through fog and drizzle, across fields and meadows, cursing the bounders all the journey.”

“And arrived here at four o’clock.”

“Who told you?”

“Stanley and Richards.”

Cranston leaned back and chuckled. The Shadow watched him with a smile. It was but another test that showed how closely The Shadow had learned to copy Cranston’s gestures.

“I said nothing to the servants,” remarked Cranston. “I merely told them that I intended to sleep. I supposed that by morning I might hear something from you. But I had not expected a personal visit. How did you deceive Stanley and Richards?”

“I told them,” declared The Shadow, “that I had left the limousine in New York, to come back to the station garage in the coupe. Desiring a pleasant walk, I came up from the station at four o’clock. Rising early, I went down there again a half hour ago, to bring the coupe.”

“And all the while, you actually stayed in New York? Leaving the limousine there and bringing the coupe this morning?”

“That is correct.”

CRANSTON shoved bedclothes aside and perched on the edge of the bed. He found cigarettes on the telephone table; The Shadow supplied a flame from a lighter before Cranston could ignite a match. The millionaire noted that The Shadow’s lighter bore the initials “L. C.”

“You handle every detail, don’t you?” questioned Cranston in admiration. “Jove! I remember the first time I met you. [1] In this very room. You dropped cloak and hat and left me looking at my own face as plainly as if I had seen it in a mirror. Just as it is today.”

“And I advised you,” recalled The Shadow, in Cranston’s own tone, “to take a trip abroad, while I used your identity. You were a bit exasperated at first.”

“I must admit that I was. I threatened to have you arrested, as an impostor, until you proved that you knew more about my affairs than I did. Jove! I really believe that if it had come to a showdown, I would have been proven the impostor and you the genuine Lamont Cranston. Jove!”

“Jove,” repeated The Shadow, quietly, “You have acquired that expression recently, Cranston. I shall remember it for future reference. You have a penchant for acquiring anglicisms during your sojourns in British colonies. Jove!”

“Bounder and blighter,” laughed Cranston. “Don’t forget those. I still use them occasionally.”

“I worked those words last night,” recalled The Shadow. “Cranston, you have my confidence to some degree. Naturally, you do not know my identity. You appreciate that I am a capable disguise artist, inasmuch as I can play your part as well as yourself. Outside of that, you know only that my life purpose is one of counteracting crime.”

“And criminals,” smiled Cranston. “Like our enemy who called himself the Black Falcon. [2] Jove! That blighter did kidnap me proper. He thought he had you — like those rogues did last night.”

“The Black Falcon was a different sort,” reminded The Shadow. “At present, I am campaigning against criminals who play a much deeper game. One so involved that I do not as yet know its hidden significance.

“Last night, I fell into the hands of the foe. I expected danger; I went on my adventure in your guise. After I was captured, I tricked my inquisitor — I had contact with only one important man — and made him believe that I was you.

“I backed my bluff by having one of my agents attack the house, wearing my familiar black. My captors decided to release me. I was sure that they did not want Lamont Cranston. Therefore, I had no qualms when I learned that they intended to exchange me for you.

“Indeed, I actually offered them suggestions along that line. I showed them the way, so that they would bring me here. I intended to prevent the exchange altogether; but, unfortunately, you arrived too early for my plan.

“So you were seized. I nullified your abduction by means of a prompt pursuit, which left no further doubt as to who was actually Lamont Cranston. As I expected, your captors released you.”

Cranston nodded as The Shadow paused.

“There were two of them,” stated the millionaire. “One called Louie; the other, Matt. Louie was the driver; Matt was in command. I say there were two; actually there were four when the chase began. You managed nicely, however, when you eliminated two of the subordinates.”

“I allowed the escape,” said The Shadow, “so that you would not be involved in a wreck of the car. Now I am at the beginning of a new trail. I intend to trace it in a new way.”

“By dropping my identity?”

“Yes. And in order that no new complications may arise, I suggest that you start on another trip. You have worked well with me in the past, Cranston. In fact, we have become very much in accord.”

“I’m game for the future. Another trip? Certainly. I have been considering a voyage to the Argentine. I have my passport available. Suppose I start tomorrow?”

“Excellent!” The Shadow arose and extended his hand. Cranston gripped it. “You are sure about the passport? If not, I have a duplicate, bearing your name.”

“I have it. But you forget nothing, do you? Well, cable me in Buenos Aires when it is time for me to return.”

RICHARDS was not in the hall when The Shadow emerged. On looking through an upstairs window, the visitor saw the valet out front talking with Stanley. Descending to the ground floor, The Shadow went out to a side veranda. He paused as he neared the front of the house. He could overhear the servants talking.

“Most alarming, Stanley,” Richards was saying. “As I chanced to pass the master’s door, I heard him talking to himself.”

“Mumbling?” demanded the chauffeur. “Like he had gone to sleep again?”

“I could not distinguish the words,” stated the valet, “but he seemed to be engaged in an actual conversation. Questioning himself and answering. Chuckling and laughing. One would have thought that two persons were in the room. But both voices were the master’s.”

Stanley shrugged his shoulders as he went to the coupe. He intended to drive into New York, to get the limousine. Richard went back into the house, wondering if he should awake his master from what he believed must be a strange sort of nightmare.

The Shadow stepped into view as soon as Richards had closed the front door. He reached the coupe just as Stanley was about to start. Opening the door, he smiled in greeting, then took his seat beside the perplexed chauffeur.

“Cobalt Club, Stanley,” ordered The Shadow, in Cranston’s easy tone. “Leave me there and go up to the garage. Drop the coupe. Have the limousine washed and bring it back here. I may be home again before your return.”

Stanley was silent as he drove along. He decided that his master must have been awake when Richards had heard him talking to himself. Stanley made no comment, however. Lamont Cranston’s servants were trained to be silent.

While The Shadow was riding Manhattanward with Stanley, Richards, passing Lamont Cranston’s room, heard a slight motion from within. The valet decided that his master must have returned to bed; that the talk that he had heard had actually occurred while Lamont Cranston was asleep.

Once again, the servants of this household had a new problem to baffle them. Yet the fact that they served two masters had never yet dawned upon the faithful attendants of Lamont Cranston!