Fingers of Death

CHAPTER XXI. AT THE MONUMENT

LATE the next night, a lone figure crept through the secluded gates of the City Cemetery. This man, huddled and furtive, was barely visible in the dim light of the cloudy night. He passed along the edge of the roadway that came through the gates, slinking like a ghoul through this city of the dead.

Directly ahead, the Spanish War Monument raised its dim shaft above the ground. This was the objective that the huddled man was seeking. The prowler reached the base of the monolith and stood there, listening.

Were his ears deceiving him, or did he hear a sound close by? The man paused in alarm. No further sound occurred. The huddled stranger grew more bold. A flashlight glimmered in his hand as he turned its rays upon the plate that was set in the base of the monument.

Four deep-set screws held the plate in place. The prowler was prepared for that. He carefully and methodically removed the screws with a screw driver, and laid them, one by one, beneath the light.

The plate failed to come away. The man fumbled with it, and his breath came in long gulps as he worked.

At length, a catch yielded to his pressure. The plate came away, to show an iron inset.

A thief would only have taken the copper plate; but this man had further designs. Furtively, he worked with the screw driver until he had removed the iron covering. It fell from his grasp, and clanged upon the stone base of the monument.

Swinging, the man faced the roadway, fearing that some one might have been close enough to hear. His nerves were active, and he remained intent. He dared not look into the place that he had opened, until he was sure that he was alone.

A slight sound caught his ear. Sensing the direction from which it had come, the man turned his flashlight upward, at an angle.

His fears were realized as the rays revealed two figures standing near. Then came an answering click.

The brilliant rays of a bull’s-eye lantern flooded the scene.

The discovered men had answered with a powerful illumination that revealed the huddled form at the base of the monument!

There, cringing in the glare, was Hurley Adams. The old lawyer was the intruder who had entered to visit the base of the monument. The hole which he had opened gaped black behind him. His thoughts, now, were of the men who had caught him in his act — those who had come here to watch him uncover the hidden millions!

WHILE one man held the powerful lantern, the other leaped forward with a cry of rage, only to be grasped and withheld by his companion. The old lawyer, gasping piteously, saw above him the face of Willard Saybrook!

A voice spoke from behind the lantern. Harry Vincent was restraining his companion.

“Easy, Saybrook!” was his warning. “Remember our agreement! We only came here to watch the man who entered! Speak to him, but avoid all violence.”

Saybrook nodded. He stood and glowered at the old lawyer. He could not desist from uttering the words that were on his lips.

“Murderer!” accused Saybrook. “So that was your game! To keep the millions for yourself! You told me enough truth to make me keep silence. You told Mahinda to put me out of the way. You killed Doctor Shores because you thought he knew too much!”

“No! No!” bleated Adams. “I did not! When I learned that Shores was dead, to-day, I thought that he had committed suicide. I thought that he had done those crimes; then weakened for fear of discovery! I thought that my life had been spared. I came here — not to rob — but to learn if the wealth were really here.”

“You lie—”

Harry Vincent interrupted Saybrook’s outburst.

“Hear him out,” said Harry quietly. “Remember, the orders are not to molest whoever comes.”

Saybrook subsided. He realized his mistake.

Tonight, Harry Vincent had brought him here, telling him that this was the spot where the seekers for wealth would come. How had Harry known? Saybrook wondered. He knew, however, that Harry followed the orders of a mysterious chief — the one to whom Saybrook actually owned his life.

“I am innocent,” protested Adams. “I told you everything Saybrook. These crimes have maddened me. Tell me — if you knew of this spot, some one must have told you! Is the money here?”

The lawyer suddenly realized that the answer lay behind him. He half rose and stared into the cavity beneath the monument. The rays of Harry’s lantern turned to show the space.

A cry came from the old lawyer. The cache within the monument was empty!

“Gone! Gone!” There was despair in the old man’s voice. “Gone! When I had resolved to do right; to discover the stolen wealth; to make known its hiding place! The others all have died. I would be betraying no one but myself!”

Willard Saybrook was amazed. He could tell from the old man’s tone that Hurley Adams was sincere.

He realized that his original trust had not been misplaced.

Adams, forgetful of all else, was groping through the space where he had hoped to find the hidden millions.

A large opening, it was sufficient in size to have held the contents of a vault. The old man’s hands found a flat object. They drew it forth — an envelope.

While Harry Vincent and Willard Saybrook watched him, the old man slowly brought the envelope into the light. In large letters, it bore the name:

“This is for me,” the old lawyer declared simply. “I shall open it.”

He followed with the action. A folded note was the result. Hurley Adams spread it and read its written lines.

A strange change came over the old attorney. First he registered amazement; then dread; at last, his face took on a sudden dignity. Standing erect, Hurley Adams spoke in a firm tone.

“I am wrong, gentlemen,” he said. “My obligation is not yet ended. You must understand my position. However mistaken I may have been, I accepted a trust imposed by others. My duty lies before me. I must go.”

“One moment,” interrupted Harry, in a quiet tone. “We, too, have a duty, Adams. Our instructions are to accompany you. Only under that condition can you go.”

“You will let me fulfill my obligation?” questioned Adams. “No matter how strange a one it may be?”

“Yes.”

“I trust you, Saybrook,” said Adams quietly. “You are the only man to whom I revealed the secret which I held for decades. I shall trust you now. Can you vouch for your companion?”

“Yes,” responded Saybrook.

“Had I come here unobserved,” Adams announced, “I would surely have abided by the instructions in this envelope. The man whose writing I have read knows well that I never would go against my word. But since you discovered me, there is no other way. Come with me, gentlemen. I ask only that you do as I request when we have reached our destination.”

Together, the three men replaced the plates that hid the opening in the monument. Hurley Adams was silent. He had learned an amazing fact. Willard Saybrook was puzzled. He no longer doubted Adams.

He wondered what the old man had learned. Harry Vincent knew only that, somehow, The Shadow had found this place. He was sure that the contents of that note were known to The Shadow. For The Shadow had ordered him to bring Willard Saybrook here this night.

Their short work finished, the trio walked from the cemetery. Hurley Adams had come on foot. He joined Harry Vincent and Willard Saybrook in Harry’s car.

“My instructions,” said Harry quietly, “are to take you where you wish to go. What is your destination?”

Willard Saybrook stared in astonishment when he heard the old lawyer’s reply.

“We will go,” stated Hurley Adams, “to the home of Josiah Bartram.”