The Blue Sphinx

CHAPTER XXIII THE GAME REVEALED

A SOLEMN tribunal was seated in judgment. As chief official of Latuna, Mayor Quirby Rush occupied the center; he was behind a table in the middle of the conservatory. On his right sat Strafford Malden; on his left, Howard Dunham.

Harrison Knode was standing between two detectives, while Police Chief Lawrence Grewling stood alone, watching Bart Drury and Clyde Burke. The reporters were facing the improvised bar of justice.

All others had gone into the house, to await call if needed. Toya stood at the closed door, ready to obey any order.

There was another door to the conservatory. It opened into the back of the house. Just within that door stood Singler, Malden’s chauffeur. He had been called in by Toya.

Bart Drury had completed his story. In steady, easy tone, the reporter had told of his efforts to watch the crooks who had been latent in Latuna. He had given details of his capture; his call to Clyde Burke; and the role he was forced to play. He came to the finish.

“They had me in a truck out back of the museum,” stated Bart. “One man was guarding me. Three others blasted the brick back of the vault. Right after that they piled into the truck. I put up a fight. They slugged me — one of them did.

“When I came to, I was behind the wheel of the truck. It was coasting down a slope. Then some one came roaring up in a car. I heard shots; brakes screeching; I was yanked from the wheel.”

“The truck kept on. It crashed through the high trestle on the Larkton road. Some — some motorist had saved me. He brought me back to town. Left me in the car; then Burke showed up. We came here.”

“A preposterous story!” snorted Mayor Rush. “It lacks conviction, Drury. It positively lacks—”

“Why do you think I’m here?” broke in Bart. “Isn’t that proof enough that I’m on the level? Can’t you see what those crooks were after?

“If I’d been found at the wheel of that truck, it would have looked as though I was with the bunch. Making a getaway that crashed. I had to play in with them to save Burke.”

Bart looked from side to side. He appealed first to Dunham. The Gazette editor gave a slight nod. Though the Enterprise was his rival sheet, Dunham, as a newspaper man, seemed inclined to believe the reporter’s story.

Strafford Malden saw Dunham’s nod. Then he was faced by Bart’s expression of appeal. Where Dunham had shown open-mindedness, Malden displayed sympathy. He turned to Mayor Rush.

“Suppose,” suggested Malden, “that we accept this story on a temporary basis. Let us hear what the other man — Burke — has to say.”

“Very well,” agreed Rush.

CLYDE told his story, up to the point where he had broken from the crooks. He stated that one of the band had been slated for the guillotine. He told how he had dashed to Cliff Marsland’s rescue. But he did not mention Cliff’s name.

Then Clyde became impressive. He was following instructions from The Shadow.

“There was some one in the museum,” declared Clyde, “who was there to thwart the crooks. That person started the fight. When I helped the fellow whom I found on the guillotine, the stranger was already battling Konk’s crew.

“I was trapped, with the helpless man whom I had rescued. We headed for the anteroom, to get away from the crooks. We heard the explosion when the vault was blown. Then came the second blast. The person aiding us had opened the way for escape — by blowing up the Blue Sphinx.”

Facing the pompous mayor, Clyde added:

“We went down into the vault and out the back. Our rescuer was there, in the darkness. I told him that Drury was in danger. He left; and I escaped, with the chap whom I had rescued from the guillotine.”

“The man you rescued was a crook?” quizzed Rush, sharply. “Where is he now?”

“He left me,” replied Clyde. “I couldn’t hold him. I didn’t want to, after he told me why the thugs had slated him for death.”

“Why was that?” quizzed Rush.

“Because,” responded Clyde, “he had failed to open Harrison Knode’s safe. Konk Zitz went to Knode’s tonight; for some reason, he wanted to get into the safe. This fellow fluked the job; Konk accused him of being a double crosser. Konk slated him for death; then Konk opened the safe himself—”

“Enough!” broke in the mayor. “We have heard too much of these preposterous stories! These men were both in with the crooks. They are trying to shield Knode. Come! We can have no more of this absurdity!”

Clyde turned to face Knode. All the while, the editor had been listening to the stories told by his reporters. The Shadow had ordered Clyde to count on Knode if the pinch arrived. The Shadow had counted upon the keenness of the editor.

KNODE stepped forward, the detectives accompanying him. He stood in front of Rush; then swung about to look at Grewling. Cool, Knode had been gaining that power that he had, with facts. The same ability that enabled him to produce his logical editorials was about to serve him with his plea.

“Here lies evidence.” Knode swung his hand toward the table, where the death gun and the papers were lying. “These articles were found in my safe. Does any one” — his eyes were challenging — “believe that I would have been fool enough to keep them there?

“You give me credit for being the master of a criminal band. Do you think that I would have linked my reporters — the very men needed for an alibi — with such a nefarious outfit?

“You, Grewling” — he wheeled to the police chief — “are the holder of an affidavit made by my housekeeper. That document says that I intended to go to the museum the night that Rubal was murdered. I did not go; and the affidavit can not prove that I was there.

“Evidence — yes. But all of a circumstantial sort. Drury and Burke have told their stories. Absurd though they may seem, they have saved me from the trap. For both those men have told facts. Their testimony will counteract this damaging evidence.”

“What do you gentlemen think of this?” demanded Mayor Rush, turning to Malden; then to Dunham. It was the Gazette editor who responded.

“Knode is right,” declared Dunham, frankly. “I must admit that I am confused by details. Nevertheless, he has struck the vital point. The evidence against Knode would become shaky — in court — when matched against the testimony of Drury and Burke.”

“I have officers from the museum,” snorted Grewling, “who will testify that Drury led the crooks.”

“But Burke explains all that,” protested Dunham. “There is nothing to prove that Burke was with the outfit. Burke has told us that Drury carried an empty gun.”

“Konk Zitz tried to make me think that Drury had ordered my murder,” reminded Clyde. “So I would support the officers in their testimony.”

“Gentlemen,” Harrison Knode broke the pause, “we are actually of one mind. Our thoughts have been clouded; that is all. Before we reconsider details, let us analyze the game. Konk Zitz and his raiders were not implicated in the death of Joseph Rubal. Yet Rubal’s murder is being linked with the crime tonight.”

“Because you were responsible for both,” stormed Grewling.

“Not I,” smiled Knode. “But some one was responsible. There is a master crook in this. A man who knows Latuna; and who murdered Rubal because the curator knew what was coming.” Knode nodded as the others stared.

“MY appointment with Rubal,” declared the keen editor, “was made because Rubal was ready to give the game away. Rubal was murdered. His papers were taken away. They were planted — some of them — in my safe, tonight, along with the death gun. Any ordinary safe cracker could have opened that safe of mine. It was part of the game. To make it look as though I were the master crook.

“That, gentlemen, was the most insidious part of the scheme. The plotter knew that his existence would be uncovered. He wanted to find some one who could be marked as the big shot. He picked me as the goat.”

“Useless words, Knode!” declared Mayor Rush. “We have proof that you went to the museum the night that Rubal was slain—”

“Proof that I could have gone to the museum.”

“Which amounts to the same thing.”

“It does?”

“Yes.”

Knode’s eyes gleamed at the mayor’s reply.

“What you mean,” declared the editor, “is that I have no alibi. Very well. Have you?”

“Have I?” demanded Rush. “What do you mean? I am not under accusation.”

“You are,” returned Knode, calmly. “I am accusing you!”

“Of what?”

“Of the murder of Joseph Rubal. Where were you at the time the curator was slain?”

Rush was on his feet, clutching the edge of the table.

“I was in my office,” he shouted, “at the city hall! Until nine o’clock, or thereabouts—”

“Who saw you in your office?” interposed Knode.

“No one,” returned Rush, indignantly. “But Grewling met me afterward.”

“Afterward,” mocked Knode. “Just as Drury and Burke saw me afterward. Well, your alibi — a weak one — seems to depend on the police chief.” Knode swung about. “What have you to say, Grewling?”

It was a clever move. In a trice, Knode had matched the discord between mayor and police chief. Rush, indignant, had let himself go on trial. Grewling, the official whom he sought to fire, was the man upon whom he must depend!

“I’ll be honest,” declared the police chief, soberly. “I went up to the mayor’s house at nine o’clock that night. He wasn’t there when I arrived. He showed up a few minutes later.

“The first thing he said was that he’d been at the office. I didn’t think much about it then, but right now, Mr. Knode, it begins to seem odd. The mayor telling me where he’d been, like he was looking for an alibi—”

“So that’s it, Grewling!” broke in Rush. “That’s your game, eh? Well, make a statement for yourself. Where were you between eight and nine that night?”

“Attending to business,” retorted Grewling. “Putting men on watch at the Phoenix Hotel.”

“Were you at the hotel?”

“Yes. I came in there just before I went up to your house. Around nine o’clock.”

“And before nine where were you?”

“Around town. No particular place.”

“Hear him!” snapped Rush, viciously. “No particular place. That might mean the museum. Listen, Grewling, and mark my words. I wondered why you started that vigil at the Phoenix Hotel, without my order. You exceeded your authority, and I begin to understand why.

“Knode has awakened me. He always criticized you as a holdover from the last administration. Like Rubal. Perhaps the two of you were better acquainted than you made out. Those crooks at the Phoenix Hotel are another point. You said they would make no trouble if they stayed there.”

“You are accusing me?” demanded Grewling. His fists were clenched; his face purple.

“One moment!” The sharp interruption came from Strafford Malden. Usually benign, the wealthy man was angry as he came to his feet. “This is all outrageous! Why talk of alibis from our mayor and our police chief? Both are honorable men. Knode is on trial. Let us confine ourselves to him.”

“This is all ridiculous. Why, the next thing you know, I shall be under accusation. Fortunately” — Malden relaxed with a quiet smile — “I can avoid such indignity. I have two men right here — Toya and Singler — who know that I was in this conservatory on the night that Joseph Rubal was murdered.”

Clyde Burke shot a quick glance to Bart Drury, who smiled and nodded. Before Malden could say another word, Drury sprang a statement.

“Go on with your alibi, Mr. Malden.”

Strafford Malden halted. His eyes narrowed to a glower. While others looked dumfounded, Bart spoke again, paraphrasing words that he had heard in that darkened car; words from the hidden lips of his mysterious rescuer.

“Tell us,” jeered Drury, “why Rubal suddenly changed his tune the very day that the Blue Sphinx was installed. Tell us why only one truck — a dummy — was at the museum tonight. Tell us why you posed as a philanthropist; but gave only the ground for the museum and, later, the Blue Sphinx—”

Malden was quivering. He saw Harrison Knode pointing and Police Chief Grewling nodding. Malden backed from the table, pitiful for the moment. Then, with a sudden effort, he shot his right hand to his pocket and gave a sharp cry.

A revolver flashed into view. At the same instant, other weapons appeared in the hands of Toya and Singler. Malden and his servants held the throng covered. Hands went up as Malden snarled.

“Stand where you are!” was Malden’s fierce order. “You want the facts. Listen and hear them!”