Murder Trail

CHAPTER IV THE TRAIL

BACK along the path which the airship Munchen had taken on its trip of death, a lone man watched, parked in his car along a country road. The man was Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, and the lowered top of his convertible coupe showed his features as the flashes of an airway beacon streaked the night.

To Harry Vincent, this night was the beginning of a new adventure. Harry’s life had been filled with adventures ever since the momentous time when he had met The Shadow. Long ago, a mysterious hand had drawn Harry from the brink of suicide; a whispered voice had bidden him to obey; and henceforth, Harry had served an unknown master.

Stationed in New York, supplied with all the funds that he required, Harry Vincent constantly awaited The Shadow’s bidding. A young man of ability and resourcefulness, Harry had proven an excellent operative whenever The Shadow had required him to combat crime.

For the past month, Harry had been free from duty. Then, shortly before noon on this very day, he had received a telephone call from an investment broker named Rutledge Mann. That meant instructions from The Shadow — for Mann was a contact agent, who, like Harry, served The Shadow.

Harry’s instructions had been to drive to this lonely spot, and to await certain developments. Harry had arrived two hours ago. He was still waiting in his silent, darkened coupe, the lowered top being also in accord with orders.

A rhythmic hum came from overhead. Harry became immediately attentive. He stared upward and saw a hovering light that twinkled three times.

This was the signal that Harry had expected. He watched the moving light. The token in the sky was different from that of an ordinary passing plane. It did not move with steady, rapid sweep; instead, it held its position momentarily; then sidled slowly away, twinkling its occasional triplet, like a gigantic firefly seeking for a place to descend.

Harry knew the reason for the odd behavior of the light. This was no ordinary plane above; it was an autogyro, the type of aircraft that The Shadow frequently utilized. At the control of that ship was The Shadow himself. That fact, Harry knew.

THE autogyro was picking a circuitous course. Harry started the motor of the coupe. He edged the car into the road and slowly started in the direction which The Shadow’s plane had taken.

Now appeared a change in the signal from above. The color of the twinkling light had changed. It was green instead of white. That was the final signal. It meant that the ship was preparing for a descent.

Harry parked the coupe and turned out the headlights. He clambered from his car and ascended a bank beside the road.

The autogyro’s lights were hovering with design. Still flashing their green signal, they gave Harry opportunity to head in their direction, and thus note the exact spot of the landing.

Slowly, the machine descended. Above the dim horizon, Harry could see the revolving wing that whirled above the ship. The shape of the autogyro was blotted out as it came to earth close by the trees. Harry was running across the field.

When the young man reached his destination, he saw a tiny glow beside the bulking shape of the autogyro. He knew the meaning of that light. The Shadow had stepped from his plane, and was awaiting the arrival of his agent. Harry stopped a few yards away from the invisible man who held the flashlight. He saw the torch move; and he followed.

What was The Shadow seeking? Why had the mysterious personage of darkness dropped from the night at this isolated spot?

Harry could make no conjecture. Little did he realize that The Shadow was following an air trail; that the autogyro had carefully descended along the course by which an escaping murderer had dropped from the great dirigible Munchen!

Silently, Harry followed the man ahead. He could see no outline of The Shadow’s form. A larger flashlight was working now, sweeping along the ground as The Shadow led the way in a methodical search.

Suddenly the light stopped. A soft laugh came from above it. Harry shuddered. He had heard that laugh before; it was a laugh which he, as The Shadow’s trusted agent, had no cause to fear. Nevertheless, its sinister, whispered tones were uncanny. There was something in that amazing mockery that brought dread to all who heard it.

The laugh of The Shadow!

“Come.”

The voice followed the laugh. The single word brought Harry forward. The young man stared at the spot where the flashlight’s rays formed a luminous circle upon the ground. There, Harry saw the marks of two feet impressed in the soft earth. The traces of those implanted shoes possessed one noticeable oddity: the left was on the right; the right on the left.

The fact caught Harry Vincent’s eye, but his mind gained no explanation. The Shadow’s laugh, however, showed that The Shadow understood. A man, descending in a parachute, had landed with crossed legs — in the proper method of terminating a landing via parachute.

These were the marks that The Shadow had come to find; they were the sure trace of the man who had dropped from the swift German dirigible. The Shadow had picked up the trail of the man who murdered Von Tollsburg!

THE light moved along the ground; again, Harry followed. Here were faint traces of footprints going toward the clump of trees. Harry himself would have lost the trail; but The Shadow’s eagle eye did not fail. With uncanny precision, the bearer of the flashlight followed the course that the murderer had taken.

There was brush among the trees. The flashlight spotted a clump of bushes. A broken branch gave a quick clew. A low command came in The Shadow’s whisper. Harry separated the bushes, and there, while the flashlight played ahead, he discovered a mass of crumpled cloth. Dragging out the discovery, Harry spread a parachute upon the ground.

Once again, the keen eyes of The Shadow were taking up the trail along the ground. The path brought the searchers to an embankment. Footprints showed in the earth. They led to the dirt road, and mingled with the dust.

Harry Vincent strode along, still behind that light that flickered from an unseen hand. There was something ghostly in the atmosphere. The light itself seemed detached from a human being. Suspended in air, it might have been moving of its own accord, as it searched the dirt of the road and never ceased its progress.

When the light finally stopped, it was at the point where the old road encountered a paved highway. Here, under the scanning glare, Harry could see another telltale mark in a patch of mud. The footprints again, turning down to the left. That was the direction in which the man had gone!

The light went out. Harry Vincent felt a sudden dread amid the gloom.

Out of the darkness came a low, eerie whisper. Its strange note made Harry tense. The Shadow was speaking in a sinister voice that seemed unreal. Only once before had Harry Vincent so fully realized the commanding force of his mysterious master; that had been upon the eventful night when The Shadow had plucked him from death’s brink.

“Follow the trail,” came The Shadow’s words. “The man was here last night. He chose this spot at random — three o’clock — make inquiries — learn his destination—”

The young man understood the vital orders. Some one had dropped from the air. That man had been traced by The Shadow. A stranger in a place chosen through necessity, the man must have sought to gain his location. His first stop would have been a habitation close by.

“I understand,” declared Harry. There was no response from the darkness. Harry hesitated; then realized that he must go back along the road until he reached his car. With the coupe he could take the paved road and run along the trail toward the nearest town. Harry was a trained investigator for The Shadow. He knew how to do the work that was now required of him.

PLODDING along the dirt road, Harry experienced the strange sensation that some one was close beside him. The feeling was intermittent; at times, Harry was sure that The Shadow was here; then he would suddenly become convinced that the invisible companion was gone.

When he reached the coupe, Harry clambered into the car and turned on the headlights. The focused glare illuminated the road ahead. Strange, long silhouettes of black spread across the dirt byway. They seemed to sway as Harry watched them; but he could not discern whether any one might be the shadow of a man or merely the blackness caused by some tree beside the road.

The starter clattered; the motor throbbed; and Harry urged the car into gear. As he neared the paved highway, he caught the sound of a purring mechanism. Staring upward, Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of a mass that was lifting itself through the air.

The autogyro! Silently, swiftly, The Shadow had returned to his ship. He was rising now, in his mysterious departure. No lights twinkled. Only the thrum of the motor told of The Shadow’s course. The purring died away while Harry Vincent listened from his car.

For Harry Vincent remained with a quest before him. The Shadow, his strange task accomplished, had gone into the upper realm of the night.

While Harry was performing his simple task, The Shadow had more difficult matters to do.