Death Sleep

CHAPTER XV CARDONA FINDS LUCK

WHILE The Shadow was trailing mobsters bent on new crime, Commissioner Wainwright Barth and Detective Joe Cardona were concerning themselves with old events. The two representatives of the law were at the Talleyrand Hospital, in conference with Doctor Seton Lagwood.

The first of the death-sleep patients had recovered. The others were showing signs of life. Doctor Lagwood’s hopes had been realized. As with the first group of victims, the time element of forty-eight hours had done its helpful work.

“My former patients” — Doctor Lagwood was speaking from his chair in the experimental room — “recovered at midnight. We allowed them until morning before they were questioned regarding their experience.”

“Would you advise the same in this case?” asked Barth.

“I would,” nodded Lagwood. “Unquestionably their minds will be clearer then. Of course, if it is imperative, we could allow one or two of them to speak. But I advise the utmost caution for the present.”

“Very well,” decided Barth. “Come, Cardona, let us leave.”

“Just a minute, commissioner,” insisted the detective. “I want to find out which one of that bunch woke up first. Which one was it, doctor?”

Doctor Lagwood picked up a chart from the table. He consulted it carefully, then made his reply.

“Gerald Throckmorton,” stated the physician. “Let me see — he is the man from Boston, is he not?”

“Yes.” Cardona turned to Barth. “Commissioner, I’d like to ask that fellow just one question. Why he came down here with a private detective.”

“Could we allow that?” Barth asked Lagwood.

The physician pondered. At first, he seemed on the point of refusing the request. Then, after giving more thought, he decided that it would be allowable. He conducted Barth and Cardona along a hallway and into a private room. There they saw Gerald Throckmorton propped, white-faced, upon the pillows of a cot.

Despite his pallor, Throckmorton seemed very much awake. His eyes were clear as they saw the visitors. His lips opened and he smiled as he put a greeting to Lagwood.

“Hello, Doc,” said the young man, “you’re back again, eh? Who are your friends?”

“Commissioner Barth,” introduced Lagwood, “and Detective Cardona. The latter has a question which he would like answered. You were accompanied to New York by a private detective. Why was he with you?”

“That’s a long story,” smiled Throckmorton.

“Just give the primary reason,” urged Lagwood. “Did you fear robbery? Did you have valuables with you?”

“Yes,” responded the young man, half closing his eyes. “Securities to deliver to Currian.”

DOCTOR LAGWOOD turned to Cardona. The detective nodded. This gave him the start he wanted. Throckmorton had been robbed, but apparently did not know it. Lagwood’s gesture indicated that it would be unwise to worry him with the news.

Barth turned toward the door. Cardona was about to follow when Throckmorton opened his eyes and again smiled. He spoke, half in a tone of surprise.

“You’re leaving?” he queried. “I wanted to talk longer—”

“Wait until the morning,” interposed Lagwood. “Detective Cardona will be back then.”

“All right,” agreed Throckmorton. “Tomorrow morning will be all right. Just so long as I can talk before Wednesday night.”

Joe Cardona stopped abruptly. Almost involuntarily, he spoke aloud, responding to the statement that Throckmorton had made.

“Wednesday night?” he queried. “This is Wednesday night.”

Throckmorton swung in the bed and propped his head on one elbow. He was completely aroused from his lethargy. His tone, though bewildered, was clear.

“Wednesday night?” he echoed. “It — it can’t be. Why I was at Currian’s last night — Monday night. I–I - have been asleep for two days? I thought it was only one.”

Doctor Lagwood stepped forward anxiously. Commissioner Barth was also apprehensive. Joe Cardona remained stolid, as Throckmorton blurted objections to the two men who tried to quiet him.

“I’ve got to talk!” he cried. “I know that crooks must have grabbed my securities. Currian’s safe was open. They could have rifled it, too. But that’s nothing! Tonight — Wednesday night — you can’t stop me! I’m going to talk!”

“The result might be serious,” warned Lawgood, turning to Barth. “He can speak if you order it; but the consequences will be your own. I speak as a physician.”

“Quiet him,” agreed Barth. “His life may be at stake.”

“Perhaps,” broke in Cardona, thrusting forward between the physician and the commissioner, “but maybe other lives are already at stake. I’ll stand for the consequences, commissioner. I want to hear this man’s statement.”

For an instant, Barth boiled with indignation. He glared at Cardona while Doctor Lagwood stood by, shaking his head in troubled fashion. Angered at Cardona’s insubordination, the commissioner was ready to use forcible measures. It was Throckmorton who changed the situation. Already the recovered patient was gripping Cardona’s coat, pouring out his story to the detective.

“Somebody knew I was coming to Currian’s,” blurted Throckmorton. “A servant there — one Currian was suspicious about — that’s why he had armed the others. I had the dick along with me. He was armed, too.

“But nobody — not even the dick — knew why I was bringing those securities to Currian. Even Currian didn’t know. He knew I wanted to borrow as much as I could get on them; he was giving me a check. But he didn’t know why I wanted the money.

“I’ll tell you why. Did you ever hear of Rufus Galder? Big millionaire who collects rare jewels? Well, he’s selling some of them tonight. Going to have the whole lot at his apartment. Here in New York — Wednesday night — Rufus Galder.”

THROCKMORTON paused for breath. He was defiant as he looked toward Barth and Lagwood. They could not stop him now. He spoke again to Cardona.

“Nobody knew I was borrowing money from Currian so I could show up at Galder’s and bid for some of those gems. A friend up in Boston told me about the sale. Big banker there, Tony Sharman. He couldn’t make it. Said to use his name when I called on Galder.

“Sharman seemed worried. Said Galder had been pulling these private sales too often.” Throckmorton was talking in syllabic utterances. “Told me to hire a dick. Said to call Galder. Advise him to have police there. Sharman’s advice to Galder. As a friend.

“I never called Galder. Went to Currian’s. Woke up here. When you came in, the whole thing came back. Idea hit me. Crooks must have got us at Currian’s. If they knew there was money loose at his place, they ought to know there would be jewels at Galder’s. Get it? Only a few people at Currian’s — two of us, detective, servants. Lot of people at Galder’s maybe. Crooks found out about Currian’s—”

“And you figure,” interrupted Cardona, “that there’s a bigger chance they’d know about Galder’s.”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Throckmorton, dropping back on the pillows.

“It’s what I figure, too,” asserted Cardona, turning to Commissioner Barth. “We’re up against hot crime. The crooks are moving fast to keep ahead of us. There was an inside man at Currian’s, a servant, and you can bet there’ll be an inside man at Galder’s.”

Cardona turned to Doctor Lagwood. He indicated Throckmorton, propped in the bed.

“The patient’s yours, Doc,” declared the detective. “Hope he didn’t overtax himself, but he looks better now he’s got that worry off his chest.”

Without further hesitation, Cardona strode toward the door. Commissioner Barth, excited, stalked after him. Barth had forgotten the insubordination. He was willing to follow Cardona’s lead even further, in face of this possible crisis.

“You’re calling headquarters?” questioned Barth, as they reached the hall together. “Getting some men up there?”

“You’re the boss, commissioner,” replied Cardona, stopping short. “But if you want a suggestion, I’ve got it. The first person to call is Rufus Galder. If you do that, to put him on guard — he’d listen quick to you — I can be on another phone starting the ball rolling.”

“The radio patrol,” nodded Barth, “all the available police in the vicinity, squad of plain-clothes men. Form a cordon around—”

The commissioner had reached a room where a telephone showed on a table. Cardona kept on while Barth went in to send his call to Rufus Galder. Seizing a telephone book, the commissioner found the number that he wanted. Rufus Galder was listed as living at the Castellan Apartments. His phone number was Drury 8-3155. Barth picked up the telephone.

GERALD THROCKMORTON’S story was bringing prompt results. It was no shot in the dark. For the Castellan Apartments were located in the building that Spud Claxter’s mob had already surrounded; and the number of Rufus Galder’s apartment was 4G.

Joe Cardona had found luck. The detective’s insistence was bringing the forces of the law to a combat with Wolf Barlan’s minions. Cardona had heard Throckmorton out. Following the Bostonian’s hunch, Joe was getting somewhere.

Commissioner Barth had caught the contagious excitement of the ace detective. Instinctively, he was following the hunch. Like Cardona, Barth believed that crime was due at Rufus Galder’s. The commissioner was out to stop it.

So was The Shadow. Whereas the law was springing to belated action, on the supposition that evil was impending, The Shadow had already learned the truth and was present on the scene.