The Condor

CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW DEPARTS

BLINK — BLINK — BLINK

New flashes from the night. Cliff spelled brief, coded words. He understood their meaning. The Shadow was calling for a written report.

Cliff turned on the light and sat down at a little table. Producing a fountain pen, he began to write in code; swiftly, but in comprehensive fashion. Brief as he told of the report from Zegler through Corey, he became more fluent when he described The Condor’s strong room.

Cliff penned every detail of the grotto. The iron doors — the Singhalese servants — the teakwood boxes — the metal carrying tubes — the underground lake — the dam that formed the outlet to the pool — on all points Cliff was explicit.

These were facts that The Shadow might require later. Cliff spared no details. His description finished, he folded the message and placed it in an envelope. Turning out the light, he blinked that he was ready.

A short reply ordered him to let the envelope drop from the window. Hard upon that message, The Shadow blinked the signoff signal. Cliff thrust the envelope between two bars and let it flutter to the ground below.

He blinked that the message was on its way. In response came the same signal as before. To sign off.

Thinking that The Shadow had failed to get his final statement, Cliff repeated it. There was no answer.

Puzzled, Cliff blinked a query. Still no response. The Shadow had ended contact. Cliff was about to send another call, when he realized his stupidity. He knew that he should have stopped at once, when he saw that first signoff signal.

Cliff was to learn the fruits of his mistake. A bright light suddenly glared from beyond the opened window. It was from the front of the garage. Cliff saw Corey at the door of the building, the coupe on the foreground.

Coming to his senses, Cliff sprang over and turned on the room light. His act was a wise one. A moment afterward, someone began to rap upon his door. Cliff turned the knob and opened the unlocked door.

Trossler was there, still clad in livery. Beside him, The Condor, fully dressed.

“COME, Marsland,” rasped the gray-haired man. “Come to the study. Trossler, join Corey. The others will follow.”

Fiercely, Treft pointed to the stairs. Cliff said nothing. He took the course that Treft ordered. There was commotion in the hallway as they passed. Members of The Condor’s band had been aroused. They were starting out, half clad, to search the grounds.

Delland was in the study. The pale-faced secretary was wearing a dressing gown. The handle of a revolver projected from his pocket. Treft motioned toward the door. He ordered Delland to summon Corey while the others took up the search.

Cliff sat in the chair opposite Treft. He met The Condor’s gaze squarely. Unflinchingly, he said nothing; he did not intend to speak until Treft so commanded. The Condor, in turn, maintained a vicious silence. He was awaiting Corey.

Three minutes later, the chauffeur entered. The Condor motioned him to a chair, then ordered Corey to speak. The chauffeur nodded.

“I was going out to the garage,” he stated, “when I thought I saw something blink from Marsland’s room. Right after that I saw a flash on the ground near the house, as if somebody was signaling with a torch.

“Then there were blinks from Marsland’s window. I knew he was using a flashlight. I waited until he was finished. Then I started back to the house. Trossler was on the porch. He came in to give the alarm. I went to the garage.”

“Did you see any one on the premises?” demanded The Condor, savagely.

“Nobody,” returned the chauffeur. “But I’d say for sure the lights were inside the fence.”

“So would I,” inserted Cliff, steadily.

Corey gaped. The Condor stared.

“The fellow wasn’t close to the house to begin with,” asserted Cliff. “I saw his flashlight off across the lawn. He was signaling, all right. My room was dark; I had just opened the window for the night.

“The idea hit me that some prowler was trying to stir up trouble. As luck had it, my flashlight was on the bureau. I picked it up and blinked back. The fellow answered. What was more, he came closer.”

“What did you signal to him?” rasped The Condor, sharply.

“Nothing,” returned Cliff, promptly. “Just intermittent flashes. When I saw he was approaching, I drew him on. Then the other light quit. I was coming from my room to spread the news, when you arrived with Trossler.”

“And that is all?”

“That’s all, chief.”

THE CONDOR’S eyes were cold; yet Cliff did not flinch. After a few moments, Treft turned to Corey.

“You know Morse code,” he said to the chauffeur. “Tell me — could you read Marsland’s flashes?”

“No, I couldn’t,” admitted Corey. “What’s more, chief, they didn’t blink like code. I couldn’t even make Morse letters out of half of them.”

Cliff curbed an expression of satisfaction. The Shadow’s code was an intricate one; Cliff had always wondered why it required letters with an abundance of dots and dashes, with double dashes in some letters. The Shadow’s purpose in complicating the code was now apparent. Eyeing The Condor, Cliff saw the master crook’s glare relax.

“Very well, Marsland,” decided Treft. “Our suspicion was natural, since you were the last person to arrive here. However, we shall learn all we require when we have captured that fool who is inside the grounds.”

“It might be some pal of Spadling’s,” suggested Corey, in a troubled tone. “Clint was a wise bird, chief. If he’d tipped somebody he was coming here, maybe”

“Enough, Corey,” inserted Treft. “I have already considered that possibility. Marsland, you are a valuable man. You brought your swag and showed the proper token. I shall give you the benefit of the doubt.

“But until that stupid prowler is captured, I shall keep you under surveillance. There is a room on the ground floor which has no window. Its only opening is a transom to the hall.

“That will be your new quarters. The door will be locked while you are inside. In a sense, you will be a prisoner; actually, your status will be that of probation. You will be allowed to associate with your companions at certain intervals.”

The Condor paused to watch Cliff’s reaction. The Shadow’s agent remained stolid.

“This is not punishment,” declared Treft. “It will be accepted as a voluntary submission on your part — for the good of our company. Do you raise objection?”

“None at all,” responded Cliff. “I realize now that I would have done better to inform you at the beginning. When I make a mistake, I am willing to accept the consequences.”

“Good!” The Condor seemed pleased as he stood up and clamped Cliff’s shoulder. “You have given a proper answer, Marsland. Go with Corey. He will place you in your new quarters.”

HALF an hour after Cliff’s interview with The Condor, the last of the searchers entered the lodge. They had scoured the grounds from fence to fence. Results had proven nil.

Soon after all were inside, Corey came out with Thuler. The two entered the coupe and drove to the gate. Thuler stood on guard by the headlights while Corey unlocked the barrier. Thuler waited while the chauffeur rolled the coupe through; then stood by with a glowing flashlight while Corey locked the gate.

The coupe started along the road to town. Thuler handled a spotlight by the windshield while Corey drove at a slow pace. They were scouring the sides of the road.

The top of the rumble seat came up. A shadowy, unseen figure emerged. Keen eyes peered through the half-opened window at the rear of the coupe’s seat. The Shadow was again traveling as supercargo.

Listening, he heard the two men talk.

“It beats me,” insisted Thuler. “You know, I’m beginning to think that the fellow was further away than you thought. He might have been clear outside the grounds, Corey.”

“Marsland said he was inside,” returned Corey. “I was sure of it anyway. He must have gotten over the fence by one of those tree branches. That’s what the chief thinks.”

“That’s likely. They ought to be sawed off.”

“They will be — tomorrow morning. Jake has the job.”

Momentary silence; then Thuler remarked:

“It looks like Marsland’s on the level, Corey.”

“Chances are he is,” replied the chauffeur. “The chief’s going to keep him in that first-floor storeroom, though, just to be on the safe side. I locked him in there for the night.”

“How did Marsland take it?”

“All right. It made a hit with the chief.”

“How long will he be kept there?”

“Until we pull out, so the chief told me. That is, if we don’t snag the boob who was around the place tonight.”

“The fellow outside the house was no boob. I’d say he was smart, the way he ducked us.”

The men became silent. The coupe’s speed increased. It skirted the hill until it reached the converging forks outside of Paulington. There Corey stopped.

“No use in going further,” he decided. “We’ll look things over on the way back.”

“Was this where you met Zegler?” queried Thuler.

“Yeah,” replied Corey. “After I’d been in town. Had to wait ten minutes for the guy.”

THE SHADOW was emerging from the rumble seat. As Corey forged forward to the ditch, a shape of blackness dropped to the road. The Shadow sidled away before Corey backed. His figure, revealed vaguely by the rear light, faded suddenly as The Shadow blended with complete darkness.

The coupe started back to the lodge. The Shadow whispered a laugh as the tail-light twinkled in the distance. He had learned enough to know that Cliff Marsland was not in serious danger. Had he heard otherwise, he would have traveled along to the lodge, there to attempt a rescue.

The Shadow had spied the coupe earlier tonight. Here at the fork, during Corey’s wait. He had entered the rumble seat while the chauffeur was out of the car talking to Zegler. That explained his arrival at Mountview Lodge.

A flashlight blinked. Here on the darkened road, The Shadow read Cliff’s message. Again his laugh whispered in sinister tone. From fading writing, The Shadow had learned facts that he had sought.

Strangely, he had gained more from Cliff’s report that even Cliff would have suspected. There were loose threads in that message; facts that fitted with others that The Shadow had already noted. The Shadow had gained deep insight into The Condor’s modes of strategy.

The flashlight darkened. The Shadow moved toward the solid blackness of the hill. His would be another night of vigil. The morrow promised swift developments.

IN his new room at Mountview Lodge, Cliff Marsland lay awake upon a narrow bunk. Cliff was satisfied that he had bluffed The Condor. In so doing, he had counted on The Shadow’s ability at the art of sheer evanishment.

Cliff’s statement that someone was close to the house had coincided with Corey’s. It was the stroke that had curbed The Condor’s suspicions. In protecting himself, Cliff had not jeopardized The Shadow.

He had guessed that the grounds would be thoroughly searched; and he knew, from past experiences, that The Shadow would have no trouble in evading The Condor’s searchers.

The fact that he had not been summoned from this temporary prison was proof to Cliff that The Shadow had accomplished a safe departure. To Cliff, the future promised danger, but not disaster.

The Shadow had managed one visit to Mountview Lodge. He would arrive again, should Cliff require aid.