The Black Master

CHAPTER XIV. THE UNSEEN HARD

A MAN stepped from a taxicab on a quiet street. He paid the driver and walked slowly toward a nearby house, glancing cautiously over his shoulder as he went.

When the cab had pulled away, the man stopped, looked up and down the street, and then sauntered away in the direction opposite that taken by the cab. Although the night was mild, the collar of the dark topcoat was turned up above his neck.

He turned suddenly and walked through a narrow passage between two houses. He came to a side door of a house on the next street. He tapped lightly. The door opened automatically.

Inside, he went up three steps, through a hallway to another door, which opened to his tapping. The man entered a room. The door closed behind him.

The room in which the visitor stood was the visible creation of a gruesome mind. It contained no furniture. Its walls were formed by billowy, jet-black curtains. A ghastly blue light pervaded the apartment.

There was a strangeness about this weird light that had a marked effect upon the man who had entered.

He could not see his own features, yet he seemed to realize that they were indistinguishable in that eerie illumination.

The curtains seemed to rustle uncertainly. The man was watchful. Then, at the end of the room, a black form seemed to emerge, from the bulging curtains; a human form, with face invisible, showing only as a white blur under the strange blue light.

The man who had come from outside shifted his position. The action showed that he had noted the arrival of the master of the strange room. He awaited a command.

"Speak!" said a quiet voice.

"Howard Jennings," said the man in the center of the room, addressing the dim form that stood before the curtains. "Now operating under the name of Graham Jenkins. Serving as valet for Hubert Banks."

"Report!"

"The paper was placed. It worried Hubert Banks. He believes that he wrote it while telephoning. He destroyed the paper.

"He talked about it to his secretary, Vincent. Conversation only partly overheard. Banks was talking about something that happened thirty years ago. A woman dying."

"Report on Vincent!"

"A third letter came for him this afternoon. He still does not suspect that I took the second — the one which you still have. I have brought the third letter."

The man reached in a pocket of his coat. He produced an envelope. He advanced timidly, holding it at arm's length.

A black-clad hand extended from the figure that emerged from the curtains. It grasped the letter. The man who had delivered it stepped back.

"Wait here!" came the quiet, commanding voice.

The curtains rustled. The black form disappeared. A deathly stillness settled over the room.

While Howard Jennings, alias Graham Jenkins, was standing uneasily in the room with the gloomy black curtains, a silent man was at work in an adjoining room.

This compartment was a long, narrow room, in total darkness except for spots where small but powerful lights were focused. On a table beneath one light lay an opened envelope and a blank sheet of paper.

Two gloved hands appeared. Despite their black silk covering, the hands worked deftly. They held the letter which Jennings had delivered.

They inserted a thin-bladed instrument beneath the flap of the envelope. Part of the flap moved upward; then a moistened brush was pressed into the opening. A few moments later, the flap lifted up smoothly.

The hands brought out a folded sheet of paper. They carried it into darkness. It was fully two minutes before they reappeared.

This time they held a board, which they placed before another lamp that threw its glare against the wall.

On the board appeared the letter which had been removed from the envelope. The hands went away.

An instant later, something clicked in the darkness. Shortly afterward, the writing began to fade from the sheet of paper beneath the light. It disappeared, word by word.

There was swishing in the darkness — the sound familiar to all professional photographers. A plate was being treated in a developing bath.

A few minutes went by. Then the hands arrived again beneath the table light. They held a photographic reproduction of the letter which had been placed upon the wall. The click had been caused by the operation of a camera!

The duplicated message lay for a while on the table. At last there was a chuckle in the darkness. A low voice read off the message, which had been solved after a brief study of the simple code: Do not leave Banks tomorrow night. Stay with him every minute. Plot now understood since receiving your message. No danger while you are active. House will be watched. Signal if urgent.

Now the hands produced a pad and a bottle of ink. Dipping a pen in the liquid, the right hand wrote a few words on the top sheet of the pad. The ink dried in a few moments. It remained in view for about one minute. Then it disappeared. There was a chuckle from the darkness.

The hands took the blank folded letter — the one that had been lying on the table before the second was opened. Using the pen, the right hand wrote a short note in code, pausing now and then as though a reference were being made to the photographic reproduction.

As soon as the ink had dried, the letter was folded and sealed in its proper envelope.

The operation was repeated with the second letter. Both envelopes having been carefully sealed, the hands gathered them and disappeared from the light. Soft footsteps moved through the darkness.

The curtain rustled in the outside room. Howard Jennings looked up to see the black form with its blurred white face standing before him in the pale blue light.

An arm moved slowly toward Jennings. He saw two white objects. He grasped them and discovered that they were sealed envelopes.

"Receive instructions," said a quiet voice from the curtain.

"Ready," replied Jennings.

"You will see that Vincent gets these letters immediately," said the voice, speaking in a mechanical monotone. "Express surprise if he asks about the old letter. State that you thought he had received it before.

"Tomorrow night," continued the voice, "you will wait until Vincent has left the house. Then begin the final plan of operation. You understand?"

"Instructions received."

"Remember," said the voice, "you will follow those orders in every detail! Is everything in readiness?"

"All is ready!"

"Be sure that Banks has telephoned for Chalmers. There must be witnesses on hand. Remember, after Mr. Barton has arrived."

"All is ready."

"And remember" — the voice was low and threatening — "remember that your name is Graham Jenkins, not Howard Jennings! Remember that your only protection is The Black Master!"

The man in the center of the room shifted his position uneasily. His face was pale in the shimmering light.

"Ten years in the penitentiary awaits you," the voice went on. "Ten years — if the word is spoken. Your safety depends upon your faithfulness!

"And remember, also, that if you fail, or if you speak a single betraying word, you will never serve those ten years. Instead you will die! You will die at the word of The Black Master!"

Jennings nodded.

"Guard every action," said the voice. "The Black Master will excuse no failure! He does not wait for explanations. He strikes down those who disobey his will. Tomorrow night you will witness his vengeance."

The lights in the room flickered three times. It was a signal which Jennings understood. He reached in his pocket and drew forth a small object which he held upon his outstretched hand. It was the black disk that symbolized the power of The Black Master.

The lights flickered once again. Jennings turned and opened the door. He stepped into the outer hall. The door closed behind him. The shrouded room was plunged in darkness.

Jennings groped his way from the house. He stole cautiously along the alley. He walked briskly down the street, turned a corner, walked another block and came to an avenue. There he hailed a passing cab.

As the valet stepped into the waiting vehicle, a dark shadow seemed to form about him. The man did not notice it.

He gave the driver a destination not far from the home of Hubert Banks. As the cab moved away from the curb, Jennings did not look back. Thus he failed to see the tall figure clad in black that stood by the wall of the nearest house.

But he did crouch in sudden alarm at the sound which reached his ears. From some unknown place came the low, weird tone of a chilling, mocking laugh that aroused terrifying thoughts. It made Jennings remember the weird room where he had received his final instructions.

More than that, it brought back chilling remembrances of stories that he had heard in the underworld, before he had come beneath the sway of The Black Master. Jennings had heard the laugh of The Shadow!