Crooks Go Straight

CHAPTER XX. A HOUSE OF DOOM

“DID you ring, sir?”

Benzig, coming up the hallway, gave the question as he found Perry Delhugh stepping from the door of the anteroom. The secretary had been downstairs. He thought that he had heard the call of the bell.

“I rang” acknowledged Delhugh. His face wore a mild smile. “I wanted you to be about, Benzig, as I may need you later. Come along. Downstairs.”

Benzig followed the philanthropist.

“Mr. Cranston is in my study,” remarked Delhugh, as he and Benzig descended the long marble stairs. “He is not to be disturbed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Should any callers come, have them remain in the parlor. I am going down to the cellar; I shall return shortly.”

They had reached the bottom of the stairs. Delhugh found himself confronted by Chilton. The servant’s face was troubled.

“What is it, Chilton?” inquired Delhugh.

“Something odd, sir,” replied the servant. “A great clatter from the cellar. The cook and I heard it, sir, from the kitchen. I was just on the point of descending, sir—”

“Some boxes may have fallen,” interrupted Delhugh, in an annoyed tone. “The vibration of a truck passing in the street could have jarred them loose. It has happened before.”

“I didn’t know that, sir. This noise startled us—”

“Was it prolonged?”

“No, sir. It sounded like a crash. Nothing more.”

“Boxes. Nevertheless, I shall look about. I am going down to the cellar to bring up some bottles of my special Tokay.”

“Very well, sir.”

To both Benzig and Chilton, Delhugh’s explanation sounded logical. The reference to the Tokay was also understandable. Delhugh kept choice wines in a small storeroom to which he alone had the key. When entertaining special guests, he occasionally went down in person to obtain his treasured bottles.

The door to the cellar steps was a thin one. Delhugh opened it; then noted Chilton standing anxiously in the hall. Smilingly, he dismissed the servant, telling him that he would call if anything was wrong.

Delhugh descended.

Near the entrance of the cellar, Delhugh turned on a light. He opened the door of a coal bin. There, sprawled upon a heap of coal, was the figure of Lamont Cranston. The visitor’s briefcase lay a few feet away.

DELHUGH noted that his victim was unconscious. The two-story drop had been a terrific one. The presence of the coal had evidently broken the fall, for The Shadow’s legs were buried deep in the black lumps.

It was a backward snap that had stunned the victim. A gash across the side of the masklike forehead was testimony to the force of the blow.

Delhugh looked upward toward a solid ceiling. He smiled in satisfaction.

The Shadow had dropped straight through an unused closet on the first floor. Two traps had operated simultaneously at Delhugh’s control: the one in the floor of the anteroom; another in the floor of the closet, directly beneath.

Two large boxes stood in a corner of the coal bin. Delhugh lifted the lid of one. He brought forth a coil of rope. Advancing to his victim, he yanked The Shadow from the heap of coal and began to truss him in expert fashion.

The limp form offering no resistance. Delhugh found no difficulty in binding The Shadow thoroughly. To make the job secure, Delhugh picked up a coil of wire and broke off lengths of it. He wound these sections into the knots of the rope, thus making possible escape doubly difficult.

As a final touch, Delhugh produced a thick handkerchief and used it to gag his victim. He wired the knot of the handkerchief, hoisted The Shadow’s helpless form and flung it roughly into the big box. He closed the lid; turned around and picked up The Shadow’s briefcase.

Opening this, Delhugh discovered a mass of folded black cloth. He began to poke into the cloak in search of guns, knowing that this was The Shadow’s special garb. For Delhugh, from the moment that he had met The Shadow’s blazing eyes, had had no doubt as to the identity of his victim.

Footsteps came from the stairs. Delhugh wheeled about, opened the lid of the box and dropped the briefcase in with The Shadow. He stepped from the coal bin just as Chilton arrived.

The servant’s face was anxious.

“I didn’t hear you call, sir,” apologized Chilton, “but I did hear another clatter. I was afraid, sir, that some one might be down here. Some intruder—”

“I made the noise myself, Chilton,” interposed Delhugh. “Look here, in the coal bin. See those boxes? One of them must have fallen from the other. Suppose we stack them as they were.”

“Very well, sir.”

Chilton started toward the box that contained The Shadow. Delhugh stopped him and motioned to the empty box. Together, the two men lifted it and placed it upon the other. The box was of heavy construction and made a sizable burden.

“Now for the Tokay,” remarked Delhugh. “I almost forgot it. Come with me, Chilton.”

He led the way to the wine closet, unlocked the door and removed two bottles which he handed to the servant.

Leading the way, Delhugh went upstairs, Chilton behind him. It was Delhugh who extinguished the lights, for Chilton was clutching the Tokay.

BENZIG was waiting in the upper hall. Delhugh beckoned to the secretary, then spoke to Chilton.

“Ice those bottles,” he ordered. “I shall want them later, Chilton. And by the way, Benzig” — he turned to the secretary — “Mr. Cranston will be with me for some time. He wants his car to go back to the club. Give that instruction to the chauffeur.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when Vincent comes,” added Delhugh, “take him to the filing room as usual. Then knock on the door of the study to indicate that he is here.”

“Very well, sir.”

Benzig started away. He remembered something and turned about to Delhugh.

“What if Zurk arrives?” queried the secretary. “This is Friday night.”

“Zurk called up some time ago,” replied Delhugh. “He is going to Mr. Daykin’s home tonight. A business matter.”

“You have an appointment there also, sir.”

“Yes, as a social call. You are going with us, Benzig. I shall ask Mr. Cranston if he wishes to accompany us.”

Delhugh continued up the grand stair-case. His face, usually benign, showed the traces of a fiendish nature. Unviewed by Benzig, the treacherous philanthropist was free to reveal his true feelings of evil.

For his wicked brain was formulating new plans to follow past success. Delhugh had used this mansion as a snare. He was planning to make it a house of doom. One which The Shadow, a helpless captive, would never leave alive.