Fingers of Death

CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW ARRIVES

ALL this time, Harry Vincent, seated at the wheel of his coupe, was watching the Bartram mansion. He had been deputed to keep tabs on whoever visited there tonight, and from a secluded parking spot, Harry had made careful observations until finally the living-room light had been extinguished, and the house was wrapped in blackness.

Instructions, tonight, were for Harry to await word from The Shadow. How that word would come, Harry did not know.

He was anxious to communicate with his mysterious chief, for Harry’s observations tonight had been unusual. With the house darkened, Harry peered vainly across the recesses of the lawn, off to the rise of ground where Josiah Bartram’s mausoleum formed a dim, white cube.

For a moment, Harry fancied that he had seen a fleeting patch of black cross that distant white surface.

He watched, but saw no similar manifestation. He settled back into the seat of the coupe, and rested there in total darkness.

Despite the fact that the door on the right of the coupe was scarcely more than an arm’s length away, Harry did not hear it open and close a few moments later. The Shadow’s agent was totally unaware that some one had joined him in the coupe, until a low, whispered voice spoke from the darkness close beside him.

“Report.”

The Shadow!

Harry Vincent was amazed. With uncanny stealth, the master of darkness had joined his agent in the car.

To Harry’s mind came the recollection of that distant patch of black against the whiteness of the mausoleum. The strange phantom of the night must have come from that direction.

Word from The Shadow!

The Shadow was here, in person, waiting to hear what his agent had observed during the long vigil that had commenced since early evening!

In a low, cautious tone, Harry spoke to the unseen personage beside him. He could not see The Shadow. To all appearances, the car was empty save for Harry himself. The darkened interior completely masked the presence of the black-garbed listener. The Shadow was as obscure as darkness itself.

Harry named the time that Doctor Shores had come to the house. He added how Willard Saybrook had appeared at the door to watch the physician leave. He mentioned that Saybrook was in his shirt sleeves.

He also told of seeing Mahinda stare at Saybrook from the hallway, without being noticed by Saybrook.

Harry’s voice denoted an apprehension. He had seen the lights extinguished some minutes afterward. He recalled that he had glimpsed Saybrook’s white-shirted form moving across a window of the living room; after that, he had seen a momentary trace of Mahinda.

“Be ready,” came The Shadow’s whisper. “Watch the same window. Follow the red light. Leave if a green light shows.”

Harry nodded at the cryptic instructions. He began to speak again; then realized that The Shadow’s words were final. Harry waited for The Shadow to act. There was no motion in the dark. With sudden amazement, Harry realized that the mysterious visitant had left as silently as he had come!

AT that very moment, The Shadow was moving across the lawn to the Bartram mansion. He arrived at the window of the living room. Invisible hands moved upward and pried noiselessly. The window raised, and a silent form slipped into the house.

A tiny light, no larger than a half dollar, threw its rays along the floor. The guarded illumination cast no reflection that could be seen outside or elsewhere in the house.

The light revealed Willard Saybrook’s coat and vest. The young man had laid them on an obscure chair.

They must have escaped Mahinda’s attention. To The Shadow, these were a clew. Saybrook would probably have taken them upstairs had he retired.

The tiny light blazed a concentrated path across the hallway. It entered the dining room. It returned and headed for the passage at the rear of the hall. It revealed the steps that led to the closed workroom.

There, on the steps, lay the burned match which Saybrook had let fall.

Another clew!

Low, scarcely audible, a whispered laugh came from concealed lips above the tiny light. The glare was on the doorknob now. A black-gloved hand came into the sphere of illumination. The knob turned, but the door did not yield.

The hand produced a thin, blackened rod of steel. With this tiny instrument, The Shadow probed the formidable lock which held the door closed. Slight clicks were audible; then the lock emitted a louder sound. The door opened, and The Shadow stood within the workroom.

His light playing along the floor, The Shadow noted the position of the table on the rug. The light crept closer to the floor. The black hand, coming in from darkness, touched the surface of the rug.

Again, The Shadow laughed. His sensitive touch had found an unseen gap in the dark design. It marked a concealed opening beside the heavy-based table.

The light went out. The Shadow, striding through darkness, was returning over the route by which he had come. The vague swish of his black-surfaced cloak sounded by the window of the living room. His left hand held an object over the surface of the tiny flashlight. The right hand pressed the switch.

The tiny torch glared out into the darkness of the night. No longer were its rays focused upon a limited surface. They made a glow that could be seen from the street. The color of the light was red, due to the thin, crimson-hued disk that The Shadow had applied to the lens of the flashlight.

The light went out. The Shadow withdrew. A few seconds later, a slight sound occurred by the window, as Harry Vincent carefully entered, to find himself in the Bartram living room. The young man looked around. Across the hall, he caught another glimmer of the red signal.

Like the glow of a crimson firefly, the moving light flickered along the path that Harry was to follow. At last it stopped, in a small passage. It moved downward. Harry moved cautiously to the spot. He found a flight of steps. He descended and discovered a door barring his path.

This, for the present, must be the destination set by The Shadow. Harry knew well why he had been brought here. The Shadow had work beyond that barrier. He did not wish to be disturbed. It was Harry’s duty to remain on guard.

Seated on the steps, Harry drew his automatic and kept it in readiness. He stared back toward the dark passage.

If trouble came from that quarter, Harry could meet it. He knew that when the time arrived, the door ahead would open, and either the red light or the sound of The Shadow’s voice would bid him advance.

In the meantime, here within the Bartram mansion, Harry Vincent waited. Some mysterious work was afoot. In this house, The Shadow had discovered something amiss. Did danger threaten Willard Saybrook? That seemed a logical assumption.

The Shadow’s intuition had solved some strange problem. Master of deduction, the being who moved by night had acted promptly upon hearing Harry Vincent’s report. What had been obscure to Harry, was evident to The Shadow.

Harry Vincent was glad that The Shadow had arrived!