Shadow 001 - The Living Shadow

CHAPTER XIX WOVEN FACTS

A CIRCLE of light shone on a square table. It was like a spotlight that came from above, for it was focused by an opaque lamp shade.

Beneath the light, a pair of hands were opening an envelope. All that showed in the ring of light were the hands, the envelope, and a watch that lay on the table. The watch indicated four minutes after six.

The arms were clad in black, and they faded away into the darkness beyond. The hands were white; they were long, and the fingers tapered. Upon the third finger of the left hand a translucent gem glowed beneath the lamplight. It was a large blue girasol, or fire opal, and it shone with a strange red reflection.

The hands removed a group of folded papers and spread them on the table. They were the lists of data and reports that had been typewritten by Fellows, the insurance broker.

The hands held up each paper in turn. Eyes above the lamp shade read the typed words. Eyes that were hidden in the darkness; eyes that were lost in gloomy, sinister shadows.

The papers were spread upon the table, overlapping in the circle of light. A pair of scissors flashed suddenly beneath the illumination; scissors that came as though they were conjured out of nothingness.

The hands handled the scissors deftly. The typed lists of facts were cut into tiny pieces, and arranged in little separate rows. The hands brushed the remaining scraps from the table.

A large sheet of paper appeared in the light, and with it a jar of paste. The hands moved like living creatures. They passed from one row of paper slips to another, fingering the bits of typing, choosing first one and then another.

The slips were laid at intervals upon the large sheet of paper. Occasionally the hands changed the order of the slips. Sometimes they rejected bits of information, substituting others in their place.

The actions were uncanny. As the hands worked in silence, they seemed to be fingering real facts and actions, instead of mere slips of paper, forming new combinations of phrases that differed from those which Fellows had assembled.

Minutes passed; but the hands kept on, untiring. They slipped here and there in rapid silence, and the quickness of their motions showed that they were controlled by a mind that thought with amazing speed. The circling second hand on the face of the watch seemed slow and sluggish in comparison.

At last the hands ceased their movement. Many slips were lying upon the paper. The fingers touched one and pushed it to a new position. They took another, only later to be removed. Again the motion stopped.

Then the hands dipped the paint brush in the jar. They worked rapidly again, applying paste to the backs of the chosen slips.

The bits of paper were pasted in position, and the result was a series of lines, the disconnected items of information standing well apart.

The assembled phrases read as follows:

“Geoffrey Laidlow… millionaire… no enemies… house at Holmwood… Laidlow returned home… accompanied by his secretary… went into the library… closed the door… heard a sound in the house… went to the study… discovered a man at the open safe… Howard Burgess… Laidlow’s secretary… knew the combination?… wearing coat and gloves… was shot and killed… ran to the front window… shot in the arm… dropped the revolver on the lawn… opened the safe… jewels were there… removed papers… scattered them on the floor… Ezekiel Bingham… criminal lawyer… lived near Laidlow… passing the house… stopped his car… heard shots fired… entered the Laidlow home… found Burgess… called the police… saw a man cross the lawn… met a man named Joyce… in his automobile at night… gave Joyce a copy of the code… demanded quick translation… ordered silence… purpose of the code… unknown… collection of gems.”

The hands reappeared above the patched paper. The right hand now held a pencil. The left steadied the paper, the fire opal on the third finger gleaming like a live coal. The pencil was poised for an instant, then it crossed out the single question mark that appeared among the statements.

With easy, unhesitating motion, the hand used the pencil to print words in the blank spaces between the typed items. Its uniform speed indicated that the controlling mind was well ahead; as the new words were formed, the mixed phrases became coherent. The hands stopped. A complete, amazing story stood forth in bold relief.

It was most emphatic because the words that had been added were printed in small, neat capital letters, as perfect as the typing. This was the finished result:

“Geoffrey Laidlow, A RETIRED millionaire, WHO HAD no enemies, LIVED IN A house at Holmwood, Laidlow returned home ONE EVENING, accompanied by his secretary.

“LAIDLOW went into the library ALONE, AND closed the door. LATER HE heard a sound in the house AND went to the study. THERE HE discovered a man at the open safe.

“THE MAN WAS Howard Burgess, Laidlow’s secretary, WHO knew the combination OF THE SAFE. BURGESS WAS wearing coat and gloves. LAIDLOW was shot and killed BY BURGESS, WHO THEN ran to the front window, WHERE HE WAS shot in the arm BY HIMSELF.

“BURGESS dropped the revolver on the lawn. BURGESS HAD opened the safe, BUT NO jewels were there. BURGESS HAD removed papers AND HAD scattered them on the floor.

“FROM THEM HE TOOK ONE THAT BORE A CODE. Ezekiel Bingham, THE criminal lawyer WHO lived near Laidlow, WAS NOT passing the house. ACTUALLY, HE HAD stopped his car OUT FRONT. WHEN HE heard the shots fired, HE IMMEDIATELY entered the Laidlow home, WHERE HE found Burgess, WHO GAVE HIM THE CODE.

“BINGHAM called the police AND TOLD THEM THAT HE saw a man cross the lawn, THUS SUPPORTING THE SECRETARY’S STORY.

“SOME TIME LATER BINGHAM met a man named Joyce WHO JOINED HIM in his automobile at night AND gave Joyce a copy of the code. BINGHAM demanded quick translation AND ORDERED silence.

“THE purpose of the code IS NOT unknown. IT TELLS WHERE LAIDLOW KEPT HIS collection of gems.”

The hand used the pencil to check over the entire story, carefully touching each word. Then it moved to the bottom of the sheet and wrote in script.

Words appeared. Those words were thoughts, expressed in rapid writing. They were sound, accurate thoughts - clear deductions supported by the facts in Fellows’s reports on the persons involved, and based upon the finished story that stood above.

The writing was as follows:

“Howard Burgess had no questionable past; but he knew more about the affairs of Geoffrey Laidlow than any other man. His control of expenditures, under the lenient millionaire, might have caused him to steal, and he may have feared discovery.

“It is probable that he made contact with Ezekiel Bingham by secretly visiting the lawyer to ask advice. Bingham - a man who holds control over crooks and who admits his own crookedness - must surely dominate Burgess.

“We may assume that he arranged the robbery, and was ready to receive whatever was stolen. When Burgess was surprised by Laidlow, his only chance of safety depended upon the murder of the millionaire.

“These facts support the case:

“First: Burgess must have known the combination to the safe. He handled ordinary affairs in the household. Many trivial papers were in the safe. Yet he disclaimed knowledge of the combination.

“Second: Burgess was wearing gloves. He wanted to be sure that no finger prints remained.

“Third: The use of the gun that was in the safe. A robber would have had his own revolver. He would not have trusted a strange gun, especially as there is no likelihood that he would have taken the time to examine it to see if it were loaded.

“Fourth: The safe at Laidlow’s home was antiquated and poorly protected. The millionaire kept all valuable papers in safe-deposit vaults. It is certain that the jewels were not in the safe. Yet both Burgess and Bingham stressed the fact that the imaginary burglar carried a box. They went so far as they dared to convince every one that the jewels were taken from the safe.

“Conclusion: Burgess knew that the code was in the safe. He either planned to steal the code, along with other papers, or he was merely looking for the code to copy it. He expected no interference from Laidlow, who was accustomed to read for hours before retiring. Laidlow, confident that the code could not be deciphered and believing that Burgess was trustworthy, had not concealed from Burgess the fact that the code existed. But he would tell no man where the jewels were kept for he did not even entrust them to the security of a safe-deposit vault.

“Upon the deciphering of the code hinges the fate of Laidlow’s jewels. If Bingham obtains a translation from Joyce, there will be a second robbery at the Laidlow home - a robbery that may never be brought to light. But it will not take place until the dead man’s secret has been discovered.”

The paper, with its double story, lay between the unmoving hands while the fire opal glistened and its crimson depths held their strange glow. Unseen eyes were reading from the page, and the invisible mind behind them was remembering every word.

The hands folded the paper once, and then again. The pencil wrote on the outside of the packet:

“This report would be a great help to Detective Joe Cardona. It would also interest Inspector John Malone.”

Pencil, paste and scissors disappeared, carried away by the hands. Then the long fingers gripped the folded paper and tore it once, then again and again, until it became tiny fragments which lay in a heap on the center of the table. The typed sheets met the same fate.

The hands gathered the torn paper bits until the left hand clutched them all. Not one scrap remained. The right hand picked up the watch, which registered half past six. The hands moved from the light. Only the blank top of the table remained in view.

A sharp click and the room was in absolute darkness. All was silent for a moment; then from the midst of that Stygian gloom came a soft, weird, mocking laugh - a laugh no louder than a whisper; yet a laugh that echoed and reechoed from the walls.