The Black Master

CHAPTER VI. DOCTOR ZERNDORFF ACTS

"SO!" exclaimed Doctor Zerndorff.

He was standing in his laboratory, a white-walled room that adjoined the living quarters of his apartment.

Before him lay the separated portions of the bomb which had been brought from the office of Barr Childs. Beside him stood three men — Inspector Burke, Detective Cardona, and a secret-service investigator.

"You have found something?" questioned the inspector.

"Something?" returned Zerndorff. "Something, yes? It is everything that I wished! Now all is plain!"

He turned to his three companions and leaned one elbow upon the shelf beside him.

"It is but one man who could have made this bomb," he declared. "I could not have made myself believe that he was here, in this America. But now, I can tell it all!"

"Who is he?" questioned Cardona eagerly.

"His name is Isidor Vervick," replied Zerndorff.

"Where is he?"

"He is dead now!"

Cardona started in amazement. He could not understand the sudden knowledge displayed by Zerndorff.

The criminologist smiled and went on.

"You must know and understand these men," he said. "They do not change their actions, because they are men who hide. This man Vervick — I see him plain.

"He was a bright man, this way" — he tapped I forehead with his fingers — "and he was also a fool, this way." He tapped his forehead a second time.

There was a momentary silence, while Zerndorff picked up bits of mechanism and examined them again.

"I can tell you this," he said. "If Vervick had written, in letters, his own name upon these pieces metal, it would not have been more plain to me.

"I can tell you also this. By these pieces of metal, I see that the bomb was made in America, here. But I had thought that Vervick was not here!"

"But how do you know that he is dead?"

"Because he was the fool! It is for others that he has always done work. These bombs have been made by him, as others have told him to do.

"He was a man who hid. He did not put the bombs where they would explode. He was a fool, that wished for money — and would believe all that was told to him!

"Do you bring to your mind that explosion in the office of the newspaper — the Classic, it was called?"

Cardona nodded.

"Who was the man killed there? The man they did not know? I can tell you that man and his name! It was Isidor Vervick!

"He had made the bombs. He had given them to those who paid for them. He saw five thousand dollars. He went to warn — and before he could warn, he was killed!"

"But who planted the bombs?" questioned Cardona.

"You have not yet found that out? Well, now I shall tell you where to look!

"In New York there must be two men — one is Italian, Michael Sforza. The other — he is Russian, Grigori Pecherkin. Only for them would Vervick have done this work.

"They have been here in New York. What names they have now to call themselves by, I do not know. But they have done nothing here except to talk of communism. But now, I can tell you plain, they have to work with Vervick!"

Before Cardona could speak, the secret-service man grunted his accord with Zerndorff's remarks. This man was no stranger to either Burke or Cardona. He was Hal Steelman, who had cooperated with the New York police on previous occasions.

"I can trace both of those men," he said. "Sforza is working in a Brooklyn restaurant, under his own name. Pecherkin calls himself Peterson. He hangs around on the East Side.

"We've had nothing on either of them, until now. But we ought to get some good evidence before we grab them!"

An attendant entered the laboratory and spoke to Doctor Zerndorff in German. The criminologist turned to Inspector Burke.

"There is a call for you from headquarters," he said. "You wish the telephone, yes? It is waiting with the call."

Burke left, with Cardona at his heels. He returned a few minutes later, alone. His face bore a smile of grim satisfaction.

"They've rounded up some suspects," he said. "Cardona's gone on duty. We'll hear from him at headquarters."

He jotted down the information which Doctor Zerndorff had given him. He compared notes with Steelman. Then he departed for headquarters and the secret-service man went with him.

It was late in the evening when they left. It was not until the next morning that Doctor Zerndorff heard from them. Then he had a visitor in the person of Detective Joe Cardona. The Italian-American grinned when Zerndorff entered the room where he was waiting.

"Well?" asked Doctor Zerndorff.

"Have you seen the newspapers?" questioned Cardona.

"Not as yet," replied Doctor Zerndorff methodically. "I have just breakfasted and I do not read until after then — never."

Cardona pulled a copy of the morning newspaper from his pocket and spread it before Doctor Zerndorff.

Great headlines told of the roundup of the bombers. Police, aided by government agents, had delved to the depths of the mysterious explosions.

"Tell me about it," said Zerndorff quietly. "I should rather hear than read of it."

"Well, you had the right dope, professor," said Cardona. "But we got a great break last night. You remember, I had a clue on the bombing at Grand Central Station? Big packages had been delivered there.

"Well, the bomb went in; it was in a box, and we found out who delivered it. An Italian named Bonzetti, on the East Side. He was working on the truck that delivered cigars.

"He would have got away with it, but there was a mix-up on a couple of big packages. The one intended for the Grand Central cigar store came back to the factory. He didn't know it.

"One of my men pinched him on suspicion yesterday evening. We gave him the third degree last night. He told us plenty."

"Just how much did he tell you?"

"Well, he admitted taking in the package, and after that it was easier. We made him spill some information we wanted and we landed two others of his kind — an Italian named Arno, and a Russian who calls himself Nick Michaels. His right name is Maklakov."

"Ah!" exclaimed Zerndorff. "He is linked with Pecherkin, yes?"

"Exactly! We grilled him and he came through with that information.

"We've got evidence now! More than that, we've pinched Sforza and Pecherkin — or Peterson, as he insists on calling himself."

"Have they talked?"

"Not yet."

"They would have — if they were in Italy or in Russia. It is too easy here." Doctor Zerndorff's face took on a sudden sternness. "But it will not be difficult! How is the evidence which you have found?"

"Well, we've got it on Bonzetti, right enough. He appears to have framed the whole thing. But he only planted one bomb.

"We figure that Arno placed the one in Wall Street. He looked a lot like a fellow who was seen down there early yesterday morning. He's shifty when he talks, but we're getting it out of him.

"We've also got him tied up with the bomb at Columbus Circle, and the one in the office in the Financial Building. He must have had keys to the office of Barr Childs. Where he got them, we don't know.

"But here's the Nick Michaels angle. He was seen around the Classic yesterday afternoon. We've been getting a real line on him.

"How do you think that bomb went up to Raynor's office?"

"How?"

"In a package of newspapers!

"Raynor had two hundred of each edition brought up to him each day when big stories were breaking. We figure that Michaels planted a phony stack of newspapers, with the bomb in them. Then he ditched the regular stack. They were so busy around there that they thought he was just one of the workmen, didn't pay any attention to him.

"You see, the fellow that took up the stack to Raynor's office remembers this guy Michaels watching him. We pinched Michaels last of all. We had a hunch that he had planted the Classic bomb, because we had been accounting for the others.

"We rounded up the heads of different departments at the Classic and got the right guy to identify Michaels."

"That is very good!" declared Doctor Zerndorff. "But tell me this. Have you found any word that brings in these two men who are the ones behind it. These men — Sforza and Pecherkin?"

"No, we haven't," returned Cardona uneasily. "That's the big trouble. We've linked Michaels with them. Very strongly. We're getting evidence to tie up Bonzetti and Arno.

"But we can't get an admission from any of the three that Sforza and Pecherkin had anything to do with it!"

"How do those three defend themselves? You say they have admitted what they have done, yes?"

"Yes and no. Bonzetti says he delivered cigars. He admits he took in the wrong package. He said he was told to do so.

"Arno admits being around Wall Street, Columbus Circle, and the Financial Building, but he doesn't remember anything he did there.

"Michaels admits he was at the Classic office. Says he was looking for a job. He asked for one — that's certain."

"Did you ask them who sent them there?"

"Yes. That's the strange part about it, professor. They say that someone ordered them — but they do not know who it was!

"They declare that neither Sforza nor Pecherkin gave them orders. Bonzetti — he's weakened most because we've had him longest — he let something slip, the word maestro, which means master.

"We've quizzed all of them along that line, and it looks like we may get somewhere with it. Either one of two things is certain — they are pulling a wonderful stall to save Sforza and Pecherkin, or else there is some mystery man mixed up in it — someone they don't know, but someone whom they obey!"

"That seems what you may call foolish!"

"I don't know about that, professor."

"What!" Doctor Zerndorff's voice indicated great surprise. "You would believe that there is one that they would call as master — one person that they would not know, and yet would do as he would say?"

Cardona paced back and forth across the room. He rubbed his chin speculatively, as though seeking a reply to Doctor Zerndorff's question. Then he turned and looked directly at the criminologist.

"I have heard of something as strange as that!" he said. "Yes, professor, right here in New York!

"You and I think in very practical terms. You have dealt with bombers — with men that hide and work like snakes in the grass. I have dealt with gunmen, who shoot in the open — anywhere.

"But I have encountered a man who is a master! No one knows who he is. Yet I have seen gangsters who have become like frightened children at the mere mention of his name!"

"Ah!" exclaimed Doctor Zerndorff. "And who is this so wonderful person?"

"They call him The Shadow!"

"The Shadow?"

"Yes!"

"What does he do? Is he one criminal like the rest? Could it be that he is the one of which they may speak?"

"No," said Cardona thoughtfully. "He is not a criminal — nor is he a detective. That is, so far as I know. He may be one or the other. In fact, you can't really tell what he may be.

"He strikes in the dark. He has his agents, but we have never discovered them. He has been at war with crooks, and at certain times, they have fallen into our hands through his efforts. At the same time, he will not hesitate to battle with police and detectives if they interfere with his plan!"

"Why is he called 'The Shadow?'"

"Because that is what he is — The Shadow! He moves in the dark. He disappears like a will-o'-the-wisp. His voice has been heard — over the radio. He has broadcast once a week over a national hookup."

"And yet you do not know what man he is?"

"How could we tell? We have wanted him at times; but have always found that we have been mistaken. We have never been able to identify him enough to warrant an investigation.

"Some people have called him a myth — yet I know that he exists."

"You have seen him?"

"Yes! Always clad in a cloak of black, with his face hidden beneath the brim of a huge, turned-down hat. Then he disappears.

"Sometimes I have met men whom I believed were The Shadow. But there has been no proof."

"I should like to meet this man," said Doctor Zerndorff thoughtfully. "This one man that you call The Shadow. He must know the one way that is sure to deal with those that have brains bad with crime. That is to fight them without the law.

"It is the only way that is sure. I have been with the law for so many years that I have seen that! Very often, Herr Detective."

"You are right, professor," agreed Cardona. "Well, maybe we'll hear from The Shadow yet!"

"Ah! You think so, yes? Why is that?"

"This is a big case, professor. We've got the right men, all right, and we're going to hold onto them. But there may be more to it — gangsters and guns, as well as these bomb planters.

"If there are, it's big; and if it's big — well, that's when The Shadow may show up! If we've got to the heart of it, well and good; if we haven't — then — look for The Shadow!"

"The Shadow!" repeated Doctor Zerndorff.

Cardona nodded. He went toward the door.

"Well, professor," he said, in parting, "we'll need you any time now. The inspector will be up to see you. We can count on you for full cooperation, professor?"

Doctor Zerndorff bowed.

The door closed behind the detective. Doctor Heinrich Zerndorff stood motionless. The eyes of the celebrated criminologist glowed with interest.

In all his years of warring against crime, this famous man had never before heard a practical-minded detective speak as Joe Cardona had spoken.

"The Shadow," said Doctor Zerndorff, in a low, thoughtful voice, with guttural accent. "I should like to meet this man that they call The Shadow. I should like to meet him, yes!"

He turned and went into his laboratory. There he encountered his serving-man, who questioned him in German.

"They have gone, sir?" the man asked.

"Detective Cardona has gone," replied Doctor Zerndorff, in the same language.

"But Herr Inspector?"

"I did not see him."

"He came a few minutes after Herr Detective—" The man's expression denoted bewilderment. "I told him to join Herr Detective, in the room upstairs, to await you!"

Doctor Zerndorff turned suddenly. He left the laboratory and went into the room where he had talked with Cardona.

The chair in which the detective had been sitting was turned with its back toward the door. It would have been easily possible for someone to have entered without Cardona's knowledge.

Doctor Zerndorff crossed the room and whisked aside a curtain that hung beside the window. He saw nothing but the wall. He glanced quickly from the window but saw no one in the street below.

Then he stepped across the room and studied the curtains that hung upon each side of the window. The top of the curtain on the right was stretched fully eight inches farther than the one on the left.

"Otto," called Doctor Zerndorff.

His man entered.

"The curtains are not even," said Doctor Zerndorff, in German.

"I am sorry, sir," came the reply. "I always keep them even, sir."

There was a slight look of puzzlement on the man's face. He arranged the curtains with his usual precision and Doctor Zerndorff noted that he narrowed the one on the right to conform with the one on the left.

The curtain which Otto moved was directly behind the chair which Cardona had occupied.

"This Shadow," murmured Doctor Zerndorff. "I think some day I shall meet him!"