The Death Triangle

CHAPTER XVI THE CONFERENCE

“BURBANK speaking.”

“Report.”

“Marchelle still at Howard Wycliff’s. Slader has just arrived.”

“Report received.”

Such was the conversation that passed over the wire between The Shadow and his agent, Burbank. The Shadow was in his sanctum. Burbank was reporting from the house across the street from Wycliff’s.

Twenty-four hours had elapsed since The Shadow’s first visit to the Wycliff mansion. In the darkness of another evening, the master of the night was due to make a second trip to the same destination.

Burbank, watching from the front room of the old house, saw a coupe pull up at Wycliff’s. Doctor Barton Keyes alighted. Burbank reached to a switchboard and signaled. There was no response. The Shadow had already left his sanctum.

Burbank made a notation of the exact time of the physician’s arrival. Before him, Burbank had listed data regarding all the accustomed visitors to Wycliff’s. This was information which the agent had received from The Shadow.

Burbank watched keenly from the darkness of the room. Sharp-eyed and observant, he should have been able to spy everything that passed in front of the Wycliff home. Yet Burbank, the vigilant man who so constantly kept his back to the light, did not perceive the motion which occurred within the blackness beside the building across the street. He did not note the mysterious arrival of his master, The Shadow.

THE scene within Howard Wycliff’s home had a remarkable similarity to the situation of the preceding evening. Four men were gathered in the old library. Howard Wycliff’s companions were Doctor Keyes, Garrett Slader, and Paul Marchelle.

Outside the door stood Miles Vorber, eavesdropping as before. From the stairway came a gliding figure that descended with amazing silence. A tall being clad in black, The Shadow had arrived in time to catch Miles Vorber in his spying act.

The Shadow’s ghostly shape melted into the protection of the hanging curtains. Vorber did not sense the approach of the mysterious phantom. Words were coming from the library. The Shadow, like the spying servant, could overhear all that was said.

Both watchers commanded a partial view of the library. The interior of the room presented a changed appearance. The furniture still stood disarranged. Books had been removed from the cases, and were piled upon the floor. Amid this chaos stood Howard Wycliff, in his shirt sleeves. The young man’s face was glum.

“We’ve ransacked the place,” he declared. “We’ve found nothing. I must admit I am discouraged.”

Old Garrett Slader eyed the furniture, and shrugged his shoulders. The elderly attorney seemed to regard the search as a futile quest.

“Paul and I started in this morning,” remarked Howard. “I left him at work when I went down to the funeral parlor. He has done a complete job of it.”

“With Vorber’s aid,” added Marchelle. “He showed up from time to time to help me.”

“While I was out,” said Howard, “and after I returned. He was with us when we went over everything a second time.”

“Howard,” declared Garrett Slader, “I believe that my theory was correct. Your father was probably delirious when he spoke of the hidden deed. Therefore—”

“You believe I should give up the search?” interrupted the young man.

“Not a bit of it, Mr. Wycliff. I intend to leave nothing unturned until I have discovered the deed.”

“You have searched everywhere.”

“Only through the furniture. We have not yet tried the walls or the floor.”

“Do you intend to dismantle the entire room?”

“If necessary.”

“You will have to remove the furniture.”

“I can place it in storage. I intend to close the house later. The furniture of this room can go to the warehouse in advance.”

Garrett Slader smiled.

“I admire your perseverance, Howard,” he asserted. “Therefore I advise you to complete your hunt as rapidly as possible. Settle this matter. Get it off your mind.”

“Agreed,” said Howard. “Are there any other suggestions?”

None were forthcoming. Howard Wycliff turned to Paul Marchelle.

“You said that you could remain here,” he remarked. “If that is satisfactory to Mr. Slader, I shall count on your assistance, Paul. We can keep the room locked until tomorrow. The furniture will go out then; the next day, we can have the room torn up. Can I count on you to supervise?”

“Ask Mr. Slader,” responded Marchelle.

“I can spare you from the office, Paul,” decided the old lawyer. “This is a matter which concerns a client. Nevertheless, I still believe that Howard is pursuing a mere fancy. I would suggest expeditious work.”

“We can employ a crew of men,” said Marchelle. “Experienced workers will quickly accomplish all that is required. I can readily see, Mr. Slader, why you think the whole search should be dropped. Expense and trouble are involved. Nevertheless, Howard will not be satisfied until it has been completed.”

“Let us call Vorber,” declared Howard Wycliff. “We can arrange our plans for moving the furniture at once.”

Garrett Slader turned toward the door. He was followed by Doctor Keyes. Both had made the same decision; so long as a search was not to continue, there was no need in their remaining. Before the two men had reached the door, Vorber entered.

THERE was something about the servant’s manner that reminded Paul Marchelle of Vorber’s actions on the preceding night. The man seemed to know what was going on; he had arrived just at the moment when Howard Wycliff had intended to summon him. Paul Marchelle, however, said nothing. He watched Vorber carefully after Keyes and Slader had departed.

“We are moving the furniture, Vorber,” stated Howard Wycliff. “The van will come for it tomorrow. You can assist in its removal.”

“Very well, sir,” responded the old servant.

“After that,” declared Howard, “we shall have the floor and walls of the room torn up. It will be a large order” — the young man glanced ruefully about the room — “but it seems to be the only course. Unless—”

“Unless what?” queried Paul Marchelle, as Howard Wycliff paused.

“Unless this furniture might possibly contain the deed,” said Howard, with a shake of his head. “I admit that it is very improbable, for we have made a thorough search. Nevertheless—”

“The furniture will be in the warehouse,” interposed Marchelle. “It will be available any time we may require it.”

“That’s true,” agreed Howard. “Suppose we list all the items which are to be removed.”

“A good thought,” said Paul Marchelle.

The young lawyer produced paper and pencil. He sat at the desk and wrote down the names of the various articles as Howard Wycliff called them. Miles Vorber, standing like a lonely sentinel just within the doorway, watched both his master and Marchelle with beady, suspicious eyes.

Howard Wycliff completed his calling of the larger items. He went to the other end of the room, and surveyed the rejected pieces of furniture strewn there.

“What about these?” he questioned.

Paul Marchelle swung from the desk. He looked at the light chairs and tables; then went back to his list.

“Call them off,” he suggested. “They’ll only be in the way when the men begin to tear up the room. You’re sending the furniture away so the room will be clear.”

“Right,” agreed Howard.

WHEN Marchelle’s list was completed, Vorber put forth a question. He wanted to know about the books. Howard Wycliff decided that they could go upstairs.

“Remove them during the morning, Vorber,” he ordered. “Get them out of the way before the moving men arrive. The books are too valuable to go into ordinary storage.”

Paul Marchelle was tabulating his list. He checked up every item of furniture; then thrust the paper in his pocket. He remarked that the list would be of importance later on.

As Howard Wycliff walked toward the door, a streak of blackness faded through the partly opened barrier. Paul Marchelle followed. Vorber walked stolidly after the two young men. Howard Wycliff closed the door and locked it.

“It’s early yet,” he remarked. “Suppose we go out and take in a late picture.”

“All right,” agreed Marchelle. “You are liable to run into a lot of trouble parking the car, though.”

“There’s a space two blocks from the theater,” said Howard. “I’ll drop you at the lobby; you can buy the tickets and wait for me there.”

The two men left. Miles Vorber went upstairs. Silence pervaded the gloomy old house. Long minutes passed. A whispered laugh crept through the lower hall. The Shadow had awaited the return of Miles Vorber. The servant had not come back. Evidently he was allowing time to make sure that Howard Wycliff and Paul Marchelle were actually going to the theater. There was a possibility that they might make an unexpected return.

The Shadow glided up the stairs. He stopped as he heard a door shut. Vorber was coming from one of the rooms on the second floor. The servant walked across the hall and entered another room. The Shadow glided into the room which Vorber had left. He flashed his tiny light about it.

The rays showed a large bed, a table with a telephone upon it, and several other pieces of furniture. The Shadow’s light went out. Returning to the hall, The Shadow regained the stairs and watched Vorber come from the second room which he had entered.

It was evident that the servant was restless. The Shadow knew the reason. Vorber, despite the thoroughness of his search the night before, was anxious to make another visit to the locked library.

Vorber turned toward the stairway to the third floor. His soft footsteps sounded upward. The Shadow waited; then, with a soft laugh, descended to the ground floor. Keenly, he had sensed that Vorber would not resist the urge to return below.

The Shadow’s pick clicked in the lock of the library door. The barrier opened. The Shadow entered. The rays of his flashlight shone toward the end of the room. The door closed softly.

In the stillness of the darkened room, The Shadow awaited the arrival of Miles Vorber. Before this evening ended, the first step in The Shadow’s plan would be completed.

The snare was in the making. If it succeeded, there could be but one result.

Before the missing deed finally reached the hands of Howard Wycliff, the murderer of Johan Arberg and Cyril Wycliff would again visit this mansion where he had committed crime!