Mox

CHAPTER XXI THE FATAL HOUR

JOE CARDONA was entering the old house at almost the exact minute when Clyde Burke’s signal had reached The Shadow. The detective was carrying a flashlight. He flickered its rays through the downstairs hall.

Three figures arose as one. Before the sleuth could use his revolver, his enemies were upon him. They muffled the detective’s cries. They threatened him with revolver butts unless he maintained complete silence. Joe Cardona subsided.

The detective’s own handcuffs clicked upon his wrists. Joe’s hands were behind his back. His keys remained in his vest pocket. He could not reach them. Gruff voices told him that his captors must be gangsters.

By the glow of flashlights, Joe was led upstairs. One of his captors stopped at the center panel in the upper corridor. He raised it. Joe Cardona was unceremoniously thrust into the little anteroom.

The panel clicked behind him. Silence followed. Joe could not hear the trudge of the gangsters who were going downstairs again.

A click. Up came the barring panel in front. Joe Cardona staggered into the lighted room. He stopped, bewildered, as he faced the man with stooped shoulders, gray hair and beard, who sat behind the table, his eyes glittering evilly at Cardona.

The detective could see that the make-up was false, when viewed from close range. With anger on his face, Cardona looked squarely at this fiend, who chose to hide his own countenance under the false guise of Mox.

“So!” The word was followed by Mox’s cackled laugh. “You have come to see me, eh? That is good. Very good.”

Cardona remained silent. He knew that the voice, like the face, was a pretense. He could see the clock above Mox’s head. It showed the time as being eight minutes before twelve o’clock.

“You like my den?” Mox was chuckling with sarcasm. “Others have liked it, before you. All of them have died. But not as you will die. I have reserved for you the keeping of my secret room — for tonight is my last visit here.”

Mox paused; then he began an explanation as he surveyed Cardona narrowly.

“This room,” he cackled, “is an elevator. It goes up, but it leaves a space, for the lever in the chimney stops it at a certain point.”

“Tonight, after I depart, I shall break that lever free. I have already loosened it. The floor of this room will go up. It will not stop. Furniture — everything — will be crushed — and Joe Cardona with it!”

Mox flourished a revolver as he spoke. There was no chance for Joe Cardona to escape the monster. With one hand, Mox piled stacks of money on the desk, chuckling as he did.

“I came for this,” he laughed. “Wealth, with which I lured inventors to their doom. The inventors are at the bottom of my pit — there in the anteroom. I have their inventions; through proxies, I can release them.

“You thought my henchmen were all slain. They were; but I had others available. Gangsters, in New York. I called them tonight, after you had told me of your plans. They were here to greet you. They are waiting below — until after midnight.”

THE hands of the clock were almost at the fatal hour. Mox arose from his desk and approached Cardona. Holding the gun in his hand, he sneered at the detective and emitted his cackled laugh. His eyes were on Cardona’s face. They noticed nothing else.

“You shall die!” chuckled Mox. “Die because you tried to thwart me. Irving Salbrook will be freed — the only man who could tell anything — and he, like Hoyt Wyngarth, never learned enough to injure me.”

“I learned plenty!” growled Joe Cardona. “I saw your game. I got the final hunch when I watched the dog. It betrayed you. If you had made a real slip, I would have denounced you then. I know you, in spite of your false beard and hair, and your crazy voice.”

“Then I shall not remove my disguise,” laughed Mox. “Since you know me, you do not have to see my real face again.”

“A clever game.” Joe was defiant. “To play the part of a man opposed to crime, and secretly commit murders of your own. Kill me, if you want — but remember — one man, at least, found out your true identity. You murderer!”

The clock was at the point of twelve. Mox chuckled. He bowed. He nudged his free hand toward the fireplace. He was about to announce his departure.

“I must inconvenience you,” he cackled, “by showing you how hard my fist can strike. That will be easy, since your hands are cuffed. You will not follow me to safety.”

Scornfully, Joe Cardona thrust out his jaw. Mox clenched his fist. Its sinews showed the strength of this pretended old man. But before the blow came, Cardona hurled his last defiance.

“I know you!” he cried. “I know you! My last act shall be to shout out your name even though no one may hear me. I know you! Junius Tharbel!”

As the name spat from Cardona’s lips, Mox replied with a hoarse, crackling laugh. His left fist swung up and clipped the detective’s chin. Joe Cardona staggered and fell down to the floor.

Junius Tharbel!

The accusing name seemed to echo as Mox turned chuckling to seize the money from the desk. Joe Cardona had played his hunch. He had used Tharbel’s own system. When the dog had made its happy leap for the county detective, Joe had gained the answer that he wanted. He had picked Tharbel as the dog’s real master.

A click resounded from the other side of the room. The noise audible despite the fatal striking of the clock, caused Mox to turn. There, in the anteroom, Mox saw The Shadow! Like a being from another world, the master had arrived to arrest the monster’s flight!

Mox did not falter. Even the sight of the threatening automatic in The Shadow’s hand did not deter him. The fiend’s hand was upon the desk. Instead of the pile of wealth, it chose the button that was close by.

With a cackling cry, this fiend whom Cardona had denounced as Junius Tharbel pressed the button. His action was answered by the sound of the opening trap. With eyes upon the button, Mox cackled. He was sending The Shadow down the shaft of doom!