Fingers of Death

CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW WORKS

THE ringing of the telephone awoke Harry Vincent the next morning. He answered sleepily to hear a quiet but unfamiliar voice.

“Mr. Vincent?”

Harry acknowledged.

“I understand,” said the voice, “that you are in Holmsford in order to study conditions in this county so far as building enterprises are concerned. If you could meet me at your convenience, I believe that I can show you opportunities once we are acquainted.”

Harry began to reply; suddenly the wire was interrupted. The click of the receiver at the other end was the cause. Harry made no effort to resume the connection. He understood all that he needed to know.

He had received a message from The Shadow!

Holmsford County Building. At once.

Those emphasized words were the hidden message. They meant that Harry must go on duty. As Harry hung up the receiver, he saw a key lying beside the telephone. He looked at it, and saw the number 902.

That must mean Suite 902 in the Holmsford County Building.

Harry dressed hurriedly, put the key in his pocket, and left the hotel.

The Holmsford County Building, Harry knew, was where Hurley Adams had his office. Furthermore, Harry had learned, the lawyer occupied Suite 904. For some reason, The Shadow desired Harry to be next door.

The Shadow had been at work last night. Parked near the Bartram house, Harry had suddenly discovered a tiny envelope on the steering wheel of his coupe. Harry had not seen any one place it there.

The envelope had contained a coded note, telling Harry to leave for the hotel in ten minutes. He had done so, just after Doctor Felton Shores had left the house for the second time that night.

In his room, Harry had written a report. It had gone in the table drawer. In his haste, Harry had not looked for it this morning. But he knew that The Shadow must have entered while he was sleeping, to take the report and leave the key!

HARRY found that Suite 902 was an empty one. He unlocked the door and entered. In the inner office, he gasped. There, on a table, rested a pair of receivers with a wire that led to the wall!

Harry knew immediately that The Shadow had done another job last night. He had installed a dictaphone that connected with the lawyer’s office next door!

After half an hour of futile listening, Harry Vincent’s patience was rewarded. Some visitor had come to see Hurley Adams.

The voice suddenly impressed its identity. Willard Saybrook was the visitor! Harry could visualize Grace Bartram’s fiance talking to the old attorney.

IN this picturing, Harry was quite correct. Willard Saybrook had come to see Hurley Adams — and The Shadow had anticipated such a visit. Within twenty feet of Harry Vincent, but with a wall between, the young man and the elderly lawyer were engaged in deep conversation.

“Tell me,” Saybrook was asking, in a serious tone. “Was Arthur Preston one of the group?”

“Yes,” affirmed the lawyer solemnly.

“Was it necessary that he should die?” questioned Saybrook.

“No,” responded Adams sadly. “I was on the point of warning him last night. I almost called him. I almost went to see him. As a matter of fact, I did go out for a stroll. Perhaps it was fortunate that I did.”

“Why?”

“My man, Unger, encountered some one in the house just after I left.”

“Who was it?”

“Unger does not know. The man escaped.”

“Then you think—”

“That some one may have intended to take my life. Finding me absent, the assassin visited Preston and killed him.”

A brief silence followed. The lawyer broke it with an explanation.

“I decided,” he said, “to wait until to-day to speak to Preston — the one man whom I felt sure would not be responsible for these crimes. I made an unfortunate mistake in waiting. I am extremely worried now; but I have a new plan.”

“What is it?” asked Saybrook.

“I cannot tell you now,” responded Adams. “It is an experiment. I must try it.”

“It involves the others?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” said Saybrook, after a slight pause. “If you will not name the other members of the conspiring group, will you answer me if I ask you regarding a certain man — whether he is a member?”

“Perhaps,” replied Adams thoughtfully. “Who is it that you suspect?”

“Doctor Felton Shores,” announced Saybrook.

“No,” said Adams, in a puzzled tone. “Shores has not been in Holmsford more than twelve years. Why — or, rather, what — makes you wonder about him?”

Saybrook began an explanation. He told Adams of the events of the preceding night; how Shores had come to the Bartram home about an hour after Preston’s death.

“I don’t like it,” declared Saybrook. “Shores has been acting strangely. As for the Hindu — the fellow called Mahinda — I don’t trust him. It looked to me as though Shores and Mahinda went somewhere to hold a confab. What do you make of it, Adams?”

“It might be good as well as bad,” returned the old lawyer gravely. “Perhaps Shores suspects that Bartram died an unnatural death. Perhaps he and Mahinda are considering the case.”

“That may be it!” exclaimed Saybrook. “I haven’t spoken to Shores, of course. I can see it now. Shores would be reluctant to express an opinion. Just as you were—”

“I am glad you spoke of this,” declared Adams. “I would suggest that you watch both Shores and Mahinda. They can suspect you of nothing, because they know you were not in Holmsford at the time Josiah Bartram died. Be cautious, however. Learn all you can, but say nothing.”

“I understand,” said Saybrook.

There was a long silence. Both men were considering possibilities. Adams began to speak; and his voice was filled with doubt. He stated that the possible connection between those in Josiah Bartram’s confidence — namely Shores and Mahinda — with crime was something that must not be entirely overlooked. At the same time, he held to his theory that the two might be investigating on their own.

“Shores was not Pettigrew’s physician,” concluded Adams. “On the contrary, he was Preston’s physician. That balances the matter. It impresses me with one fact, however. I must act at once, with the plan I have in mind. I think that I may be able to forestall future crime. Wait until you hear from me, Saybrook. At the same time, be cautious.”

WHEN the young man left the lawyer’s office, neither he nor Adams knew that every word of their conversation had been overheard and recorded by Harry Vincent. The Shadow’s agent had completed a hundred-per-cent report.

This, however, had depended upon ear alone. Therefore, Harry was not cognizant of an important event which took place after Saybrook’s departure.

Reaching in his desk drawer, Hurley Adams fished until he found a stack of small red cards. He removed two of these, and folded each one carefully within a sheet of paper. Taking two envelopes, he placed one card in each, and sealed the envelopes.

He called his secretary and instructed her to mail the letters. While the girl waited, Adams calmly addressed the envelopes and stamped them.

Harry Vincent missed the significance of this over the dictaphone. He recorded the conversation; that was all. Hence, he was not in the hallway when the girl appeared, carrying the letters.

She went directly to the mail chute, and there encountered an old, stoop-shouldered man who was holding a package of letters. Stepping back, the old gentleman tipped his hat and rested politely on his cane, while the girl dropped the envelopes separately in the chute.

The lawyer’s secretary did not see the keen glint in the old man’s eyes. She did not suspect that he had read both names and addresses. When she returned to the office, Adams asked her if she had mailed the letters. The girl informed the lawyer that she had. She made no comment regarding the old man who had been standing by the mail chute.

In fact, the old man was no longer in the hall when the girl closed the door of the outer office. He had evidently mailed his letters and departed. The secretary was a trifle surprised, however, to realize that such a tottering individual could have mailed his letters and have gone so quickly.

She would have been more surprised had she seen the old man at that moment. He had descended by the stairway, in preference to the elevator. Alone on the steps, he was moving swiftly downward, without the aid of his cane.

The old man’s lips held a faint smile, and in that secluded section of the Holmsford County Building, no one could hear the strange laugh that those lips were uttering. It was a soft laugh — scarcely more than a whisper — but its tones were weird and sinister.

The old man was The Shadow!

He had seen what Harry Vincent had not seen. Although he had not yet received Harry’s report of the conversation in the lawyer’s office, The Shadow had divined the purpose of the letters which had been mailed.

Two letters — a vital factor in what Hurley Adams planned! For those letters, sent by the arbitrator of a band of conspirators, were messages to the last of the group!

The Shadow, by keen intuition and shrewd observation, had not only learned how many yet remained; he had discovered the identities of the persons themselves.

Two more conspirators — with Adams, the total was three. A trio of men, waiting for the fateful day when they would learn the secret hiding place of stolen millions!

Which of those three — between now and that day — were to feel the killing power that could come from fingers of death?

The warning messages had gone out. The Shadow knew — and The Shadow would act. In the meantime, others would learn of danger; others might try to solve this increasing crime!