Fingers of Death

CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW’S METHOD

AFTER leaving the law offices of Hurley Adams, Willard Saybrook went directly to his own office, in a building a few blocks away. There, he plopped into a desk chair and began to review the unusual discussion that he had held with Hurley Adams. His thoughts caused him to reflect upon his own limited knowledge of affairs pertaining to the late Josiah Bartram.

Willard Saybrook had come to Holmsford a few years ago as the district representative of a large tile manufacturer. He had met Josiah Bartram through that connection; for the old contractor, despite his retirement, had still maintained occasional building interests. Saybrook had first seen Grace Bartram at her uncle’s home; a romance had resulted.

When in Holmsford, Saybrook usually stopped at a hotel. His district was very large, and required much traveling. Holmsford was merely his base of operations. News of Josiah Bartram’s death had reached him while on the road.

Upon his return to town, Saybrook, as he had mentioned to Hurley Adams, had taken up his residence at the dead contractor’s home.

Despite his direct method in talking with Hurley Adams, Willard Saybrook was not an overaggressive type of man. He realized fully that it was not his province to interfere in the settlement of Josiah Bartram’s estate.

He had no reason to suspect that Hurley Adams might be shady in procedure. The lawyer had been a lifelong friend of Josiah Bartram, and the old contractor had been too shrewd a business man to have intrusted his affairs to any one who might later play him false.

Saybrook’s visit had been to arouse Adams to his senses; and his talk with the lawyer had given the young man new confidence, despite the fact that his apprehensions had been increased by statements which Hurley Adams had made.

Recalling the lawyer’s advice, Saybrook realized that it would be unwise to go further with this matter for the present. Saybrook would have relished a discussion with Doctor Felton Shores; nevertheless, he thought it best to do as Hurley Adams had suggested: to wait and see if any overtures might come from Shores himself.

Murder! Fingers of death! These were harrowing thoughts. They were perplexing to Willard Saybrook, for they were a far cry from the young man’s usual field of action. Willard Saybrook was a business man, not a crime investigator. At the same time, he possessed a keen intellect, and he was not willing to be idle in the face of this suspected situation.

Since Grace Bartram had told him of her fears, last night, Saybrook had been methodically active. Upon his desk lay various newspapers, all containing accounts of Josiah Bartram’s death. Saybrook had scanned these thoroughly, going through the lengthy accounts of Bartram’s past career. He realized that all the stories were too sketchy and inadequate.

One fact, however, impressed Saybrook. The simplicity of the funeral arrangements, followed by the interment in a magnificent and costly mausoleum, had made good news copy. Pictures of the Bartram mansion; of the mausoleum; of the crowd that had gathered outside the grounds — these were spread through most of the local papers.

Furthermore, they had been sent by photo services to larger cities. Saybrook had obtained copies of New York dailies, and in them he found duplicates of certain photographs that had appeared in Holmsford.

NEWS, Saybrook sagely decided, appeared to be a matter of popular interest. In a larger city, Josiah Bartram’s death and burial would have attracted scant attention. But the man’s unique position in Holmsford, the curiosity of the populace, and similar factors, had caused public excitement, and even the Manhattan newspapers had deigned to notice the events in Holmsford.

The wave of news had died immediately, however. These journals were a few days old. No later editions had made any mention of Josiah Bartram.

However, a latent interest had been created. Thousands of people had read of Josiah Bartram. If the dead contractor’s name should reappear in print it would be immediately recognized.

What a bombshell it would be to demand an exhumation of the body! All these news photographs would be in immediate demand. Holmsford would come into conspicuous notice, far more than before.

That very factor now impressed Willard Saybrook with the wisdom of the advice which he had received from Hurley Adams. It was best that Josiah Bartram should remain quietly dead and buried. No scandal could bring back the deceased contractor.

If murder — direct or indirect — should be a sound theory, it would be preferable to await for new developments. Hurley Adams had convinced Willard Saybrook that time would either justify or disprove suspicions.

Saybrook was still considering the newspapers on his desk, when a stenographer entered the office to inform him that a gentleman was calling to see him. Saybrook received the card that the girl gave him. It bore this inscription:

Willard Saybrook had never heard of the visitor; nevertheless, he immediately associated Harry Vincent with the tile industry. Therefore, he ordered the girl to usher in Mr. Vincent.

A few minutes later, Willard Saybrook was shaking hands with an affable, frank-faced young man of about his own age.

“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Vincent,” stated Saybrook. “It’s not often that I have a visitor from New York. Particularly one who is engaged in building enterprises. As a matter of fact, construction is very slow in Holmsford at the present.”

Saybrook was looking at the calling card as he spoke. Harry Vincent smiled slightly. That card had done good work.

Despite the statement which it bore, it had not come with Harry Vincent from New York City. The card had been printed in Holmsford, yesterday afternoon, after Harry Vincent had learned the business in which Willard Saybrook was engaged.

“I know that building is slow in Holmsford,” affirmed Harry Vincent. “That, in a sense, accounts for my interest in this town.”

“How is that?” questioned Saybrook, in surprise.

“My business is rather an unusual one,” explained the visitor. “It also enables me to be quite independent. I am in contact with certain large firms that are interested in erecting branches in various localities. I visit different places, size up the building possibilities, and submit complete plans to those concerns. When I find a live spot that is utilized, it proves quite profitable to me.”

“I see,” responded Saybrook, with a smile. “Therefore, a town in which building interests need work is more apt to offer cheap construction advantages—”

“You have stated the situation exactly,” said Harry Vincent. “So far, I have done practically nothing here in Holmsford; in fact, I expect to go on to other territory. But while I am here, I am making it a point to become acquainted with representatives of businesses that figure in the building trade.

“I have never had previous negotiations with your concern, but I know the company by reputation; and as you appear to dominate this territory, any orders that I might be able to place would naturally come through you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Vincent,” responded Saybrook.

It was evident that this first meeting would produce no immediate business, so Saybrook wisely turned the talk to generalities concerning the business trade.

However, during his agreeable conversation with Harry Vincent, Saybrook noticed his visitor glancing at the pile of newspapers on the desk. This caused Saybrook’s mind to revert to the all-important topic of Josiah Bartram, and he suddenly decided to try an experiment.

“You were in New York a few days ago?” he asked suddenly.

Harry Vincent nodded.

“Did you happen to notice any of these newspapers?” Saybrook then continued.

Harry glanced over the pile. He picked out a copy of the New York Classic. Saybrook smiled. He took the newspaper and turned to the page that showed a photograph of Josiah Bartram’s mausoleum.

“Did you notice this picture?” he quizzed.

Harry Vincent studied the photograph; then nodded. As he read the caption beneath it, Harry’s face took on a gleam of surprise.

“Why, it’s here in Holmsford!” he exclaimed. “I did not notice that before. Josiah Bartram — yes — I heard his name mentioned somewhere. He used to be a contractor here, didn’t he? I heard some one say that he had died suddenly, not very long ago.”

“Within the past week,” said Saybrook quietly. “He is dead and forgotten — even by the Holmsford newspapers of the past few days. His death, however, was a severe blow to me. Josiah Bartram was the uncle of the girl whom I am engaged to marry.”

Harry Vincent heard the statement with sympathetic surprise. Willard Saybrook tossed the newspaper aside.

“I just mentioned it,” he said brusquely, “because I wondered how much of a stir is actually created by a short flurry of newspaper publicity.”

“Not much, in my opinion,” remarked Harry Vincent.

In the conversation that followed, Harry Vincent learned that Willard Saybrook was living at the dead contractor’s home. Saybrook, in turn, discovered that Vincent was stopping at the Elite Hotel; that he would be in and out of Holmsford during the next few weeks. Both men were cordial, and a real acquaintanceship was formed.

Owing to Saybrook’s present circumstances, it was scarcely possible to make arrangements for another meeting outside of office hours; but Saybrook extended a future invitation for Harry Vincent to call at the Bartram home after the affairs of the late contractor had been adjusted.

THAT evening, following dinner in the gloomy old Bartram dining room, where Mahinda silently stalked about the table, serving food, Willard Saybrook mentioned to Grace Bartram that he had made a very interesting acquaintance in the person of Harry Vincent.

To himself, Saybrook extended congratulations upon the manner in which he had discussed, with Vincent, the matter of Josiah Bartram’s death, without the slightest mention of any apprehensions concerning the cause of the death.

At precisely the same time, Harry Vincent, in his room at the Elite Hotel, was congratulating himself upon his tactful visit to Willard Saybrook’s office. For Harry Vincent, too, had veiled his thoughts.

His pretended guise of construction representative had been assumed purely to form contact with Willard Saybrook. In reality, Harry Vincent was engaged upon another mission. He was the agent of a strange personage known as The Shadow; and tonight he had just completed and dispatched a full report of his findings to date in Holmsford.

For some reason, The Shadow was interested in the demise of Josiah Bartram. Why? Harry Vincent did not know. As an agent of The Shadow, it was his duty to follow instructions to the letter, and to leave The Shadow’s purposes to The Shadow himself.

Even to Harry Vincent, long his trusted agent, The Shadow was a being of mystery. One night — long ago — The Shadow had stepped from the swirling mist of a fog-blanketed night to draw Harry back from a maddened attempt at self-destruction. Since then, Harry had served The Shadow faithfully; but never had he met The Shadow face to face.

Time after time, The Shadow had appeared at crucial moments to rescue Harry Vincent and others from what seemed certain death; but always, The Shadow disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived.

Tonight, Harry had sent The Shadow a report, written in code, inscribed in special ink, which would disappear after it had been read. That note, however, had not been sent directly to The Shadow. It had gone to Rutledge Mann, an investment broker, who served as contact man between The Shadow and his agents. Mann would forward it to The Shadow.

By to-morrow night, somewhere in New York, The Shadow would be perusing Harry Vincent’s report.

From it, he would learn the details that Harry had uncovered regarding the career of the late Josiah Bartram.

Meager details they were. In his report, Harry had named Hurley Adams as Bartram’s lawyer; Felton Shores as his physician; and Willard Saybrook as the fiance of the old contractor’s niece.

He had also added one other name to the list — that of Maurice Pettigrew, a Holmsford architect, who had been employed at intervals by Josiah Bartram.

Yet Harry, accustomed in The Shadow’s service to size up the men he met, was convinced that he had scored an important point by picking Willard Saybrook as the one person with whom an acquaintanceship would be most logical. Saybrook’s actions in the office had made Harry sure that the young man was still thinking deeply about the death of Josiah Bartram.

Murder? Further crime?

These theories were in Harry Vincent’s brain tonight. For Harry knew that The Shadow, strange phantom of darkness, was a lone wolf who battled sinister crime. When Harry, as The Shadow’s agent, had been sent upon a mission, it was only to seek for signs of crime and to serve as The Shadow might require.

Once crime threatened, The Shadow’s purpose was to thwart it; then stalk it to its evil lair!

Such was the method of The Shadow!