The Condor

CHAPTER XIV. THE TRUE STORY

THE SHADOW’S right hand was pointing toward a chair beside the table. Harry Vincent nodded. He walked to the chair and seated himself. Then he gazed toward The Shadow.

In following The Shadow’s order, Harry had blocked the lamplight. No longer did The Shadow’s shape stand in clear outline. It had become a spectral form, shrouded by the darkness that closed in from the walls. Still, Harry could see the flash of burning eyes.

“You came to Paulington,” stated The Shadow, his voice an intonation. “You purchased a car and left the garage shortly after seven o’clock. You should have reached the cabin before eight.”

Harry nodded.

“You were delayed,” resumed The Shadow. “A tire went flat on the abandoned road. You stopped to change it. You were late when you started up the path.”

Another nod from Harry. He did not have to tell the story. The Shadow had traced events himself.

Listening, Harry could guess the clues. He knew that The Shadow must have viewed the car.

The flat spare tire; mud on the base of a brand new jack. These were indications of importance. Then Harry thought of the old road and remembered the muddy spot where he had shifted tires. The Shadow must have viewed that telltale location.

“You heard the explosion,” declared The Shadow, his tone solemn and level. “You saw men there afterward. Your duty was to remain on the slope. You kept out of sight in the darkness. Later, you chose Table Rock as your base.

“The ledge was too conspicuous a location. You went further up the hill and camped. You thought it best to keep way from Paulington and other towns until the explosion was forgotten.”

The Shadow paused. Harry was about to speak, when his chief raised a silencing hand. The Shadow delivered a question; but his tone was a command rather than a query.

“A man went into that cabin,” intoned The Shadow. “State if you were close enough to know that he had entered.”

Harry nodded. The Shadow waited for a reply. Harry spoke huskily.

“YES,” he said. “I heard someone coming into the path. Up ahead of me. It sounded like he was going to the cabin. I wasn’t sure about it, though, until I saw a flashlight blink. I hadn’t been using my own light on the path, so I figured he didn’t know I was around.

“He was moving quick, though, and I had a hunch it might be somebody who had spotted me in town and footed it out from Paulington. Either to be ahead of me or walk in on me. So I waited down the path; then the whole side of the hill seemed to go up in a flash.

“I stayed where I was until I heard prowlers coming my direction. Then I cut off through the woods and watched their lights blink. Finally they went up toward Table Rock. I followed; I found a path and lost it; then found it again and came out at the ledge. The others were gone.”

Harry paused. He managed a smile as he rubbed his face. His cheeks and chin were scrubby. He had not shaved since the night of his disappearance.

“I cached my bag,” resumed Harry. “Up on the hill, away from the rock. Where I made camp. I was short on cigarettes; but I had papers and pipe tobacco, and I rolled my own. I guess the stumps left something of a trail.”

Harry stopped, realizing that he had more important word to give. Facts concerning Cliff Marsland.

“I made a trip to Mountview Lodge,” he stated. “On the second night, because of Cliff. I knew he wouldn’t be able to come to the cabin, since it had been blasted.

“I found contact. Flashlight signals. Cliff sent me two names; both important. Persons outside of the lodge, who apparently have something to do with it. One name was Spadling. I’d never heard it; but I know the other: Zegler.

“The old map showed the name of Zegler with this mill property. This morning I lugged my bag along with me to the knoll on the north slope. I sighted the mill and saw the road that led to it. I came down the hill and went in hiding.

“Zegler and another fellow drove out tonight. I was watching from down the road. When their car had gone by, I came in here to see what I could find. There’s nothing of importance in the desk.”

Harry sat silent, his story completed. It was he, not The Shadow, who had gained the news from Cliff.

Now that The Shadow had finally received the information, the name of Spadling had significance as well as that of Zegler.

“ALL the indications,” informed The Shadow, his eyes fixed upon Harry, “show that the murderers came from Mountview Lodge. They visited the cabin to slay a man whom they suspected to be an enemy.

“That man was Spadling. Sought by the law, he was a menace to those in Mountview Lodge. His name is known there; he was concerned with the affairs of someone in the criminal band.

“More must be learned of Spadling. Your task will be to gain that information. You shall go to Paulington, to meet the man who is on Spadling’s trail.”

Harry stared blankly. He could not understand The Shadow’s plan. To Harry, a return to the town meant that explanations would be necessary.

“In Paulington,” stated The Shadow, “you will find Vic Marquette.”

Understanding dawned on Harry’s face. The Shadow’s agent knew the secret service operative. They had worked together in the past. Vic Marquette was one who recognized the power of The Shadow.

Moreover, Vic knew that Harry took orders from the cloaked chief. On that account, Marquette would accept whatever Harry told him. The Shadow was taking good advantage of the operative’s presence in Paulington.

“Instructions—”

The Shadow’s voice had lowered to a sinister hiss. His words came steadily to Harry’s ears. Rising, the agent extinguished the light; he followed the blinks of The Shadow’s flashlight toward the rear door of the mill.

All the while, The Shadow’s words continued; brief, whispered phrases. Each intonation drilled itself into Harry’s brain. After each pause came an added statement. The light blinked toward the road; close by The Shadow, Harry kept on walking until he neared the spot where he had hidden his bag in the woods.

There Harry stopped. He heard The Shadow’s final whisper. In a low tone, Harry answered:

“Instructions received.”

The flashlight no longer blinked. Harry heard a swish in darkness. He caught a whispered laugh that faded in the night. The Shadow had struck off through the trees; his course was toward the slope.

Groping in the darkness, Harry found his bag and lifted it. He carried it along the road, using his own flashlight at intervals until he found a clear space on the right. Following The Shadow’s instructions, Harry entered the parked coupe.

He started the motor and drove out into the road. Heading for Paulington, he speculated on events to come. He knew that his arrival in the town would produce a sensational surprise. His course, however, would not be difficult, once he had talked with Vic Marquette.

Harry Vincent was coming back from the dead. With Clyde Burke, he would be ready when The Shadow needed him. Harry was taking The Shadow’s place in Paulington. The Shadow had become the watcher on the hill.