The Black Hush

CHAPTER XXIV. UPON THE TOWER

NIGHT was falling upon Manhattan. The outlines of buildings were still visible; twinkling lights in windows appeared like sparkling jewels in futuristic settings. From the windy, open observation circle atop the Judruth Tower, a few late visitors were viewing the splendid vista that lay below.

Among them was a silent watcher whose keen eyes were moving from spot to spot in the scene that stretched beneath. The Shadow, in the guise of a curious visitor to the observation post, was viewing each place where the black hush of crime had fallen.

The Olympia Hotel was plain with its glimmering windows. Thaddeus Harmon’s penthouse was a conspicuous structure upon its apartment roof. The white face of the New City Bank looked like a tiny slab beyond the blackened structure of the elevated line.

The intersection of avenue and cross street was close to the base of the building. The observant visitor noted that point; then turned and located the apartment house wherein Harry Vincent had visited Don Chalvers.

From this pinnacle, The Shadow had corroborated a belief that he had accepted while on his way to the Judruth Tower; namely, that the force of the black hush must have been projected from one of the higher stories of this edifice. Only from a great height could the results have been accomplished.

Leaning over the rail, The Shadow viewed the bulk beneath. A straight shaft, traveling downward into dizzy, depths; a mammoth creation of steel and stone that defied the force of the whistling wind — such was the Judruth Tower.

Somewhere among the windows that were visible lay the source of the black hush. Peering along the blackening surface of the building, this silent observer waited for the opportunity that was soon to come.

“All off the tower!” came a cry from an opened doorway. “Last elevator going down!”

The tall figure lowered itself within the confines of the railed platform. Black cloth swished. When the figure rose again, it blended with the dusk that now surrounded the pinnacle. The last visitor had become a phantom shape garbed in black cloak and black slouch hat.

A metal door clanged. The last elevator started on its downward trip. The tower had closed for the night.

But there was one who still remained. The Shadow, master of darkness, was alone on the observation platform of the Judruth Tower, with the whole sparkling array of glittering Manhattan far below him. Like the brain of a mammoth being, he could visualize all that passed beneath.

WHILE the increasing wind swirled in powerful gusts, this strange phantom began its solitary round of the platform. Sharp eyes gazed out over Manhattan, then peered down the walls of the building. The Shadow was studying the city as well as the edifice upon which he stood.

The shape came to a halt. A weird laugh was caught by the increasing wind. In his circuit, The Shadow had completed important observations. Yet he waited, sensing that time might bring the vital moment at which to begin a strange and hazardous course.

Up here, The Shadow was the master. Above the source of the black hush, he could bide his time!

Gazing westward, the eyes of The Shadow saw the strip that denoted the North River. The lights of many craft were glimmering above the darkened waters. Gigantic liners looked like toys.

One vessel — Lilliputian from this observation tower — showed as an outline that sparkled with many lights as tiny tugboats, barely discernible, drew it out into the mighty stream.

The keen eyes of The Shadow rested upon that ship. A laugh escaped The Shadow’s lips. The vessel was the Garronic, the latest and most modernized of all liners that plied between New York and Europe.

The huge ship was driven by electric motors. Once in the center of the river, it would loose itself from the tugs that were backing it into the stream; from there on it would proceed under its own power to the lower harbor.

Why did The Shadow watch that single boat?

There was an answer. Moving backward from the pier, the ship made a conspicuous sight. Of all objects visible from this tower, it was the most plain.

The passenger list of the Garronic had made it famous for this coming trip. Among those aboard was the noted Siamese prince, whose visit to the United States had brought blazing headlines. With him, this celebrity was carrying gems of fabulous value — prized stones that were guarded by his trusted retinue.

The Shadow was dwelling upon that fact. From here, the Garronic had the semblance of a tiny toy, which a mammoth hand could pluck from the river and shake of its contents. Such a hand did not exist; but here, not many feet below, lay a power as mighty as that of a Gargantuan fist.

If ever the black hush could prove of use to crime, now was the opportunity. It was the obviousness of that fact — so plain from this tower — that caused The Shadow to watch the backward motion of the Garronic.

Close to mid-river, the great boat was still under the control of the tugs. They were swinging its stern upstream. The prow was heading toward the bay.

The laugh of The Shadow rose above the wind. Its uncanny mockery was a challenge to foreboding crime. Weird and mirthless, the laugh broke into a wavering sinister tone. With that strange token of The Shadow’s mysterious presence came the stroke that the master mind had expected.

In one quick instant, the entire hull of the Garronic disappeared from view. With it went every light. The tiny tugboats and their signals were blotted out from view. Between the great ship and the pier lay a stretch of complete gloom.

The black hush had fallen. Under its spell lay the huge ship, vanished while The Shadow watched. Wealth beyond price was at the mercy of the men who were waiting the blotch that was to serve them!