The Blue Sphinx

CHAPTER XII MORE MEN MOVE

TEN minutes after The Shadow had left Harrison Knode’s, a figure strode from the Phoenix Hotel. It was Police Chief Grewling. The official had paid a brief visit to the hotel in order to hear reports from his men.

A coupe was parked just past the lighted front of the hotel. The car was Grewling’s; in businesslike fashion, the official entered the coupe and took the wheel. He started the motor and shifted the gear.

Gleaming eyes from darkness. They had watched the police chief’s exit from the hotel. The Shadow, arriving, had stopped at sight of Grewling’s gold-braided uniform. The police chief’s love of tinsel trappings made him easily recognizable.

As the coupe started, blackness swept forward. With long, swift stride, The Shadow gained the rear of the moving car. His shape blended with the curve of its body. Invisible above the rear light, The Shadow was accompanying the police chief to some destination.

For The Shadow had done more than recognize the police chief. He had analyzed Grewling’s stride; he had divined that the official was bound on some important mission. Grewling, like Zitz and Knode, was a factor in the odd medley of counterpurposes that existed in Latuna. The Shadow saw opportunity to gain an inkling of the police chief’s ways.

Grewling drove rapidly through secluded streets, totally unaware of the mysterious rider perched at the rear of his car. After half a dozen minutes, he pulled up in front of a large stone house. The door was open; a servant was standing there. Grewling called out to learn if Mayor Rush happened to be at home.

“I expect him any minute, sir,” informed the menial. “He said something about an appointment here, at nine o’clock.”

“It’s after nine now.”

Lights swung from the corner in front of the coupe. Grewling, using his prerogative as police chief, had parked on the left. The arriving car, a sedan, stopped on the right, its lights glaring into those of Grewling’s coupe.

It was the mayor’s car. Rush alighted and came pompously to the door of Grewling’s coupe. He nodded to the police chief and beckoned to the servant, who came from the house door. The Shadow made no move from his perch at the rear of the coupe.

He could see a uniformed policeman who had alighted from the mayor’s car. He knew that this must be an officer whom Grewling had detailed as Rush’s chauffeur, the mayor’s car being an official one. From his absolute concealment, The Shadow could hear Rush speaking. The mayor was addressing the servant who had come from the house:

“Any callers, Adams?”

“No, sir. Mr. Malden telephoned, though, a short while ago.”

“I see. Let’s go up to Malden’s, Grewling. We can ride in your car. I told Malden I might be up to see him along about nine o’clock.” Then, to the servant. “I’ll leave my sedan here; if Mr. Rubal calls, Adams, tell him that my chauffeur will bring him up to Mr. Malden’s.”

“Very well, sir.”

THE SHADOW made no motion while Rush was entering the coupe. Grewling started the machine; it shot rapidly from the curb and skirted Rush’s sedan so swiftly that neither Adams nor the chauffeur spied the figure clinging to the rear of the coupe.

As the car swung the corner, The Shadow performed a difficult maneuver. He came head-first over the fender at the right rear of the coupe. Flattened there, his shoulders were just in back of the opened window beside Mayor Rush. As the coupe rolled through darkness, The Shadow could overhear all that passed between mayor and police chief. “I lost track of time at the office,” explained Rush. “I shall have that wall clock fixed some day. It stopped around eight. I did not know how late it was. Where were you this evening, Grewling?”

“Checking on the Phoenix Hotel. Knode ought to be satisfied. I had eight men watching the lobby. None of those crooks went out of the place.”

“It is within your authority to watch the hotel, Grewling; but remember: I did not order it. I think you made a mistake.”

“Why?”

“Knode will lampoon anything you do. Mark my words on that, Grewling. The best policy with Knode is to ignore him.”

“But, to-day, his paper said—”

“I know. Just a wedge for more muckraking. I thought there might be a large crowd at the dedication exercises. That is why I ordered a large detail. The men were available; there was no reason why you could not have supplied them.”

“Certainly. They were mostly traffic officers who had no duty until afternoon.”

“But Knode saw a chance for empty talk. Well, Grewling, I took it up with Dunham, of the Gazette. His journal will run a suitable story tomorrow, with photographs of the museum and the Blue Sphinx.”

The mayor cleared his throat; then added:

“Forget Knode for a while, Grewling. Watch the Phoenix Hotel for a few days longer at the most. Remember, Grewling, if I took Knode too seriously, you would not be holding your job to-day.”

The Shadow, peering through the edge of the coupe window, saw Grewling shift uneasily. The police chief darted a glance at the mayor, then looked toward the road and slowed the coupe in order to turn into a driveway just ahead.

“Like Rubal, you are an official from the last administration,” explained Rush, as the car stopped in front of a massive stone mansion, well in from the road. “Ever since Darfield, our ex-mayor, disappeared from town, Knode has demanded that I air the faults of the last administration.

“I have refused to do so. I kept you and Rubal because I believed both of you, to be honest. I can give good government to Latuna without discharging capable men. My policy is to ignore dead scandals. I refuse to start a new one about those men at the Phoenix Hotel. They may look like crooks; yet they have not branded themselves as such. Men must be regarded as innocent until proven guilty.”

THE SHADOW shifted backward as Rush opened the door. This house was Malden’s. Its blackened foreground offered opportunity to The Shadow. He edged into darkness and reached the house while Rush and Grewling were ascending steps between two stone griffons.

The Shadow saw lighted windows at the side of the house; they indicated a conservatory. He glided in that direction.

At the front door, Mayor Rush banged pompously upon a brass knocker. The large door opened; a Japanese servant bowed the visitors into a lavishly furnished hallway.

“Mr. Malden is in the conservatory,” announced the Jap. “He awaits you, Honorable Mayor.”

Toya led the way to the conservatory. Entering, the visitors found Strafford Malden rising to greet them. The donor of the Blue Sphinx was attired in a dark dressing gown that accentuated the gray streaks in his hair.

“You are late, Quirby,” he told the mayor, with a smile. “I thought that perhaps you did not have your official car tonight. I was ready to send my limousine to your house.”

“The car is down there,” replied Rush. “Waiting for Joseph Rubal.”

“He is coming to see you?”

“Yes. I told the police chauffeur to bring him up here.”

“I have Singler waiting here,” remarked Malden, indicating a uniformed chauffeur who was seated in the corner. “If you wish to send your man off duty, Singler can take the limousine—”

“Not necessary, Mr. Malden.”

“Very well. You may go, Singler.” Malden smiled. “You may resume your narrative at some later date.”

“All right, Mr. Malden,” laughed the chauffeur.

“Interesting chap,” observed Malden, after Singler had departed. “He served for seven years in the French Foreign Legion. I started him talking after I had finished dinner and he held me spellbound until your arrival. One adventure after another. Interesting to have a chauffeur who is also a raconteur.

“Well, gentlemen” — Malden waved his guests to chairs — “I am pleased that you are here. I have been rather anxious to learn why you wanted me to see Rubal, Quirby.”

“It’s on account of his resignation, Malden.”

“Has Rubal resigned as curator? This is unbelievable!”

“He intends to resign tonight. That is why he is coming to see me. I mentioned the matter to you after we left the museum to-day.”

“You stated that Rubal had said that he did not intend to go on. I thought that you meant in regard to the plans for the museum extension.”

Quirby Rush shook his head.

“Rubal is through,” he declared. “Completely prepared to quit. I am bringing him here in hope that he will reconsider his decision.”

“He must do so,” agreed Malden. “He is the proper man for the post of curator.”

“I’m thinking of myself as much as Rubal,” admitted the mayor. “Harrison Knode has been after Rubal’s scalp. If Rubal quits, it will appear that Knode has accomplished something in spite of me.”

“I see,” nodded Malden. “I can appreciate your concern, Quirby. However, I can register no sentiment politically. My interest lies in the welfare of art. So far as Latuna is concerned, Joseph Rubal is the proper man as curator of the museum. Perhaps his resignation is on account of trouble with the plans. We aided him previously. Perhaps—”

Toya interrupted by appearing.

“Honorable Police Chief,” declared the Jap. “He is wanted to speak on the telephone.”

Grewling arose and followed Toya. Malden and Rush gazed after the police chief. Their eyes, however, were not the only ones that observed Grewling’s temporary departure. From outside an opened window, keen orbs were staring in from darkness.

THE conservatory was built on a slope that descended from this side of the house. Hence its windows were high above the ground. The Shadow, however, had scaled the masonry. From the outer darkness, he had listened in on every word of the passing conversation.

And with Toya’s interruption, The Shadow had peered above the sill. He watched Rush and Malden as they began to resume their conversation. Then he saw Grewling returning; the police chief’s face was purple with excitement.

“A call from headquarters!” exclaimed Grewling. “Report on a murder! Discovered shortly after nine o’clock.”

“Murder?” queried Quirby Rush. “Where?”

“At the museum!”

“Not — not Rubal—”

“Yes. And Hollis, the chief attendant!”

The Shadow saw Mayor Rush and Strafford Malden exchange horrified stares. The police chief waved them to their feet.

“Call your chauffeur, Mr. Malden,” he urged. “We’re going to the museum.”

Malden nodded. He called Toya, telling the Japanese to get clothes ready so that he could dress hurriedly. He also ordered Toya to call Singler and have him bring the limousine.

Ten minutes later, the big car rolled from Malden’s front drive on its way to the Latuna Museum. From the heavy darkness at the front of the mansion, the eyes of The Shadow watched the departure of Grewling, Rush and Malden.

A grim laugh whispered from the gloom. The Shadow, though he had come to Latuna, had arrived too late to prevent the stroke of crime. He had planned a later visit to the museum. Such a trip would be useless tonight.

Death had already occurred. Two men were murdered; the law was investigating. The Shadow’s only course would be to wait for better opportunity to view the scene of crime.