The Chinese Tapestry

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW’S ALLY

TSING CHAN looked like one who had seen a ghost. His gaze was fixed upon The Shadow’s black-cloaked form, where only burning eyes were visible beneath the brim of the slouch hat.

Then to Tsing Chan’s ears came sounds that made him certain that this visitor had stepped from another world. The Shadow was speaking; his words were in Chinese.

Feebly, Tsing Chan replied. As if to experiment, he tried a sentence in English. He thought himself faced by some Oriental demon, who had gained this room because the doorway had no blocking screen.

Tsing Chan was almost hopeful; for he doubted that any Chinese devil spirit could speak other than the language of the Far East.

“Why — why have you come?” gasped Tsing Chan. “No evil is mine—”

“You have spoken truly, Tsing Chan,” interposed The Shadow, in a whispered tone. “Your part is known to me. Your innocence was proven, in my sight.”

Tsing Chan smiled weakly. His eyes lighted; cannily, they surveyed The Shadow’s height.

“You were the one who came and departed unseen,” he stated slowly. “The one who must have saved my master’s friend, upon the night of Wong Soy’s treachery. You were the one who stood alone at the bazaar. It was there that I saw your face, when again you brought rescue to David Kelroy.”

Tsing Chan’s speech marked him as a Chinese of unusual education, the very type of man whom Ku Luan would have chosen for faithful stewardship. His frankness was proof that The Shadow had correctly divined that Tsing Chan was no traitor.

“I am the one of whom you speak,” announced The Shadow. “I have come to gain the teakwood box. The box with the silver dragon.”

TSING CHAN smiled.

“The box is safe,” he declared. “My servant, Lee Yan, was fortunate to gain it. He told me how he seized it. He did not understand that you—”

Tsing Chan paused. He shook his head; then added:

“Nor did I truly know. Lee Yan spoke only of one clad in black. Fear seized me when you entered. It was not until this moment that I realized all the truth.”

The Shadow remained silent. Tsing Chan had gained calmness. He began to tell his story.

“My master, Ku Luan had two great, honored friends,” declared the steward. “One was Tobias Eldreth, who lived here in San Francisco. The other was David Kelroy — the senior — who dwelt in Shanghai. Ku Luan had treasure, which he wished to give to his nephew Tyan Li.

“To Ku Luan came disappointment. His nephew, Tyan Li, had shown himself unworthy. In his stead, Ku Luan chose the younger David Kelroy. For the father, like Tobias Eldreth, was dead. To me, Ku Luan entrusted the duty of giving welcome to David Kelroy. On that same night, Ku Luan spoke to him alone.”

Tsing Chan paused. His eyes were far-away in their gaze. They were visualizing that weird death scene; when Ku Luan, the living dead man, had parted finally with life.

“Ku Luan had wisdom,” resumed Tsing Chan. “When the wise choose, the simple should not find fault. It was part of Ku Luan’s wisdom to tell me very little. To Wong Soy, he spoke even less. I knew nothing of the object which Ku Luan preserved for David Kelroy; nor did I know its meaning.

“Wong Soy knew only that Ku Luan awaited someone; that wealth was the cause of Ku Luan’s waiting.

Wong Soy became a traitor; yet neither Ku Luan nor I suspected. When David Kelroy came, Ku Luan sent him to the storeroom. Wong Soy followed while I was by the body of my master.

“Evil men came at Wong Soy’s call. I knew that when I saw his body in the storeroom. Wong Soy was a traitor; but I could not tell the law. I could not speak the name of David Kelroy. Ku Luan, upon his deathbed, told me to keep secret the visit of his heir.”

Tsing Chan had risen from his chair. He had recognized that by speaking to The Shadow, he could best serve the wishes of Ku Luan. Tsing Chan was displaying wisdom of his own.

“Nothing was gone from the storeroom,” he explained. “I knew that David Kelroy had escaped. I feared that he would not trust me, for he had witnessed Wong Soy’s treachery. Yet I knew that he must come to gain some object that was among the many belonging to Ku Luan. I watched for David Kelroy at the auction. He came there; I saw his eyes light when they spied the teakwood box that bore the silver dragon.

“Then came the fire of many guns. Men with knives seized the teakwood box. Lee Yan, once my master’s servant, was quick to turn off the lights. He and three others sought to aid David Kelroy. He and a friend did not know their purpose. They were driven off; they joined me after I had fled.

“Those men who took the box were Mexicans. While I was hiding, Lee Yan searched for them. He found their hiding place tonight. He entered, when he heard sounds of battle. He saw the teakwood box in the hands of an unknown. He grasped the box and brought it here to me.”

WITH a profound bow, Tsing Chan resumed his chair. Words came from The Shadow’s lips:

“You saw the tapestry within the box?”

Tsing Chan nodded.

“Yes,” he stated. “It was of silk, with many pictures, like those that were in the other boxes. Its meaning was unknown to me. My duty was to place it in the hands of David Kelroy. When last I saw David Kelroy, I saw another whose face I had seen before. His name was Colin Eldreth.

“So to Lee Yan, I gave a simple task. He has gone to the apartment of Colin Eldreth, carrying the teakwood box and the tapestry contained within it. There, Lee Yan will leave it, so that it may be found by David Kelroy.”

As Tsing Chan completed his statement, a bell tingled. With a bland smile, the steward lifted a square box and picked up a telephone. In English, he stated:

“This is one extension. It is from the wire of my friend, Sim Kee, whose shop is above this secret room.”

Raising the receiver, Tsing Chan babbled briefly in Chinese. He nodded as the call ended.

“It is Lee Yan,” he stated. “He has left the teakwood box in the empty apartment of Colin Eldreth. Lee Yan will soon be here.”

The Shadow took the telephone from Tsing Chan’s hand. Speaking in Chinese, he gave the name of Doctor Roy Tam to the Chinese operator.

When the connection was completed, he talked briefly with the Chinese physician. Turning to Tsing Chan, The Shadow calmly removed his hat and dropped the folds of his cloak.

TSING CHAN gaped. He had expected to see the face that he had noted at the bazaar. Instead, he was staring at the placid countenance of a Chinaman, whose eyes were half hidden by thick, dark spectacles that dropped into place as the hat was lifted.

Like Tsing Chan, the Chinese guard was amazed. The Shadow’s first prisoner had long since removed his gag, to stand by while Tsing Chan talked.

“I have learned,” stated The Shadow, his voice changed to a choppy tone, “that neither David Kelroy nor Colin Eldreth will return to the apartment where Lee Yan placed the teakwood box. I shall, therefore, visit that place myself; that I may examine the silken tapestry.”

Tsing Chan bowed in acknowledgment of The Shadow’s wisdom.

“There is no need for further hiding,” assured The Shadow. “Before this night is ended, all will be well. I have talked with Doctor Roy Tam. You may rely upon his aid, Tsing Chan, to clear you of all the blame which is not yours.”

Tsing Chan’s bow was one of thanks.

“I shall depart.” The Shadow arose as he spoke. “Be ready in case of call. I may need you, Tsing Chan. When I do, you will have opportunity to strike against those who have done evil.”

Footsteps arrived as The Shadow turned. Lee Yan had arrived; he was staring from the doorway, amazed at the sight of this black-cloaked figure with the Chinese countenance. The Shadow closed the folds of his cloak and donned his slouch hat. Lee Yan’s astoundment increased as he recognized the very shape from which he had seized the teakwood box.

The Shadow strode past Tsing Chan’s stupefied servant. He was departing by the lower passage, beneath the opium den. Once located, it formed the logical exit from Tsing Chan’s underground abode.

LURKING fog seemed to cling to the small coupe that stopped, soon afterward, near the Coronado Apartment. From its interior came The Shadow. He had obtained this car from Doctor Tam. Entering the apartment building, he ascended to the second floor.

Harry Vincent had given full assurance that Dave Kelroy and Colin Eldreth intended to remain all night at the Thurbley Hotel. To make certain that the situation had not changed, The Shadow used Colin’s telephone to communicate with his agents. Harry’s voice was the one that made cautious reply.

Harry informed his chief that the lights had just been extinguished in 308; and that Miles had carefully closed the connecting door. Dave and Colin had retired for the night; the agents, however, would keep alternate watch on the outer door of the next room.

The Shadow turned on the light in Colin’s living room. He saw the teakwood box upon the table, its silver dragon gleaming beneath the glow. Opening the box, The Shadow removed the silken tapestry and spread it upon the table.

Stepping to Colin’s bedroom, he saw a tuxedo coat spread over the back of a chair. Reaching in the pocket, The Shadow found a wad of prayer papers.

He brought these with him into the living room. As he sorted the pictured sheets, he discerned that Colin had guessed well. Every needed symbol was present. That was not surprising, for many of them were ones that might have referred to treasure.

Soon, The Shadow had the proper prayer sheets spread in duplicate fashion, exactly as Hype Mellick had arranged them. Carefully, he studied the symbols. He knew that they referred to the Chinese Room that Ku Luan had furnished for the Oriental Museum.

Through his telephone conversation with Doctor Tam, The Shadow had gained a full report of all that Harry and Miles had overheard. Dave and Colin, in their descriptive discussion of the Chinese Room, had provided The Shadow with facts that fitted perfectly.

The Shadow replaced the prayer papers in Colin’s tuxedo pocket. He folded the tapestry and put it back in the teakwood box. Extinguishing the living room light, The Shadow went out into the hall. He had found the door unlatched. He left it in the same condition.

REGAINING his coupe, The Shadow drove slowly down a steep street. Thick fog swallowed the light car in its depths. The night had become as bad as Colin had predicted, when he made his bluff for the benefit of Miles and Harry.

In the report to Doctor Tam, Harry had stated Colin’s reason for remaining at the Thurbley. The Shadow, noting the depth of the fog, was fully satisfied as to the accuracy of Harry’s report.

After a devious route, the coupe stopped before a mist-enshrouded building. The Shadow had reached the granite front of the Oriental Museum.

He put out the lights of the coupe and stepped into the chilly gloom. Afoot, he circled the building until he reached the low extension that housed the Chinese Room.

From Harry’s statement, this looked like the correct portion of the museum. The wall was windowless; it was formed of large blocks of granite, with crevices between. The height, however, was not great. The Shadow decided to scale the wall; for all windows on the ground floor were barred.

Producing a pair of flat rubber disks, The Shadow gripped one in each hand. The disks were concave; reaching up, The Shadow pressed one against the wall; then the other. Usually, he employed four of these suction cups to gain a grip, attaching a pair to his feet as well as his hands. Tonight, the procedure was unnecessary.

The wall was drippy with drizzle from the fog. The surfaces of the granite blocks were wet enough to afford unusual suction. The crevices allowed for toe-holds, while The Shadow alternately detached and affixed each disk. Moreover, the climb was no more than a dozen feet; hence no great hazard was present.

Apparently, the sheer wall of the wing had been accepted as a sufficient obstacle to marauders; for when The Shadow reached the roof, he found a small window low in the wall of the main building. Invisible from the ground below, this window could be spotted from the low wing roof.

A slight glow showed through the window; it came from a night light on the second floor of the museum.

The window had bars set in an iron frame; but they proved no obstacle to The Shadow.

With a small metal rod, he forced a clamp that held the bars tight shut. Swinging the frame on its rusty hinges, The Shadow pried open the window within. This action cleared the pathway into the Oriental Museum.

ENTERING the second floor, The Shadow found a stairway. He listened to the tramp of a watchman’s footsteps. He heard mumbled tones of conversation, a proof that two men were on duty. Descending the steps, he came to the locked door of the Chinese Room.

Black against the door, The Shadow picked the lock. It was a strong one; but not formidable. The Shadow opened it with the twist of long, thin pliers, that formed one end of a special instrument.

He descended the steps, closing the door behind him. His flashlight formed a sweeping glare as it swung about. Small statues glittered from their niches. Eight of silver; one of gold, all statuettes of masterful creation.

The flashlight swung toward the bulky statue in the center of the room. The gleam revealed the likeness of the solemn Manchu emperor. The Shadow studied the figure of bronze. Silent, motionless as the statue itself, he had reason to be interested in the bronze creation.

Scraping sounds were coming from beneath the statue. Dull, barely audible, they were easily located at the edge of the pedestal, nearest to the far wall. The Shadow listened; the scrapes were slow but steady.

Sappers were burrowing toward a final goal.

Like The Shadow, other possessors of the teakwood box had found a translation to Ku Luan’s tapestry.

That was a possibility that The Shadow had considered, ever since he had visited the Chinese bazaar.

He had not expressed his opinion to Tsing Chan; but The Shadow’s belief that crooks might already have gained the secret was the reason why he had told Tsing Chan to be ready.

Grim were the sounds beneath the large bronze statue. Ghostly creeping that told of a stubborn approach. Men of crime were pressing hard to gain Ku Luan’s treasure. Their burrowing had a weirdness that rivaled the work of ghouls.

Yet the laugh which whispered through the square-walled Chinese Room was a tone of sinister mirth far more uncanny than the scraping sound of sappers. Despite its repressed tones, it carried a note that boded thwarted hopes to those who sought to undermine the Manchu statue.

Somehow, that eerie whisper left an impression when it faded. The silence that followed seemed to tell that The Shadow was pleased to learn that Hype Mellick and Zack Ruggey were almost to the goal that they had chosen.