The Fate Joss

CHAPTER VII THE JOSS RETURNS

IT was late the next afternoon. A dusky sky clouded Manhattan; beneath it, the present residence of Chichester Laudring appeared as a forgotten abode. The windows were still barricaded, the house looked quite as untenanted as it had the day before.

Inside, however, lights were aglow. Confident that the shutters had no telltale cracks, Laudring had ordered Satsu to turn on the lights downstairs. Seated in the dining room, Laudring was enjoying an early dinner of canned salmon and baked beans. His repast ended, he settled back in his chair to light a panatela, just as Satsu, solemn of face, came in from the kitchen.

“Still sulking, eh, Satsu?” chuckled Laudring. “What’s come over you, man?”

“I have advised you, sir,” replied Satsu, “that we should leave this house.”

“And I told you why we are staying,” declared Laudring, his tone angry. “We’ll leave here tonight; after it becomes dark. I do not intend to be seen leaving this place. It is too dangerous!”

“Wise is he who risks new danger,” quoted Satsu, “when he leaves old danger far behind.”

“A good proverb, Satsu. But it doesn’t apply in this case. No one knows we’re here — except Roucard, who is friendly — so why am I in danger?”

Satsu made no reply. Laudring’s attitude became less critical.

“Since we found those canned goods in the kitchen,” he remarked, “there’s no reason why we shouldn’t stay here as long as we want. But tonight is long enough. This place doesn’t worry me, Satsu. It bores me.”

Strolling into the parlor, Laudring chose a chair in the corner. He noted a small radio; turning it on, he was rewarded by the sound of music. Satsu came in from the hall, raising a warning hand. Laudring smiled and turned down the set.

“Nobody will hear it,” he decided. “Not when I have it low, like this. Humph! The music has stopped. I wonder what’s coming next. Ah, here it is. A news report from WNX.”

Satsu went out into the dining room to clear up the dishes. He could not hear the radio in that room. Busily, the Korean carried the dishes into the kitchen. As he began to wash them, he heard footsteps. Turning about, he saw Laudring. The tall man’s face was pale.

“There’s been murder, Satsu!” exclaimed Laudring. “Murder — last night, after midnight. Raymond Roucard — the fellow who took away the Fate Joss — knifed by some Chinese.” Satsu stared, apparently speechless.

“We’re getting out of here, Satsu,” informed Laudring. “Forget the dishes. Come along with me. Where are the keys I gave you?”

“Here, sir.”

“All right.” Laudring took the keys. “The bags are all packed. We won’t wait for dark.”

Laudring started for the hall. He stopped at the door that led to the cellar. Satsu saw him insert the key in the lock. The Korean protested.

“Don’t go down to the cellar Mr. Laudring,” said Satsu. “Time is short, sir. You said yourself that we are leaving—”

“I want to take a look down there,” interrupted Laudring, angrily. He had opened the door and was turning on the light. “Maybe I dropped something; or maybe Roucard did.”

“But the cellar is empty, sir; and it may be a place of danger.”

“Empty and dangerous? Ridiculous, Satsu. Come.”

Laudring descended and Satsu followed. As on the night before, Laudring led the way. He passed the coal bins. Satsu heard him gasp. Once again, Laudring was struck dumb with terrified amazement; and Satsu saw the reason when he arrived beside his master.

Standing in its old spot was the Fate Joss, glaring with its gold, bejeweled eyes. Beside it, just as they had been before, were the muzzled War Dogs.

BLINKING, Laudring surveyed the hideous tableau. His arms dropped limply as he turned to Satsu.

“The Joss!” gulped Laudring. “It — it has returned. But it was gone last night! I saw this cellar, vacant. So did you, Satsu! We bolted those inner doors ourselves!”

Grasping the Korean’s arm, Laudring became wild-eyed as he pointed beyond the glaring image of the Fate Joss.

“The doors!” he cried. “They’re still bolted! It’s uncanny, Satsu! Unreal! The Fate Joss — it has true power — it is back with us. Following me, with its War Dogs!

“Out, Satsu! Out! Let us get away from here. I feared those golden eyes when I first saw them in the temple of Je Ho. Then I lost my fear; but it has returned. Upstairs, Satsu! Come!”

Laudring faltered as he started for the passage to the stairway. Satsu supported him; they gained the stairs and reached the top. Laudring leaned gasping against the wall, while Satsu, also excited, locked the door and pocketed the key. The Korean helped his master into the parlor.

“I shall get the bags, sir,” be declared.

Laudring slumped as Satsu left. The Korean returned with the bags, expecting to find his master as troubled as before. But Laudring, once away from the Fate Joss, had regained his nerve. He ordered Satsu to place the bags on the floor.

“We must not run from duty, Satsu,” declared Laudring, solemnly. “Raymond Roucard has been murdered because he took the Fate Joss. Somehow, the idol has returned here. It is evidence in the case. We must inform the law.”

Satsu began a protest; Laudring intervened.

“Go to the telephone, Satsu. Call detective headquarters. Tell them to send men here. At once.”

Satsu hesitated; then went out into the hall. Laudring could hear the clatter of the dial. No call followed; instead, Satsu returned.

“The telephone is broken, Mr. Laudring,” he declared. “Maybe it has been cut off. No operator gave me any answer.”

“Very well, Satsu. I have a better plan. You go out, by the back door, and hurry to the nearest precinct. Bring officers here with you.”

“But to leave you alone, sir—”

“You heard my order. Hurry, Satsu. It should not take you long.”

“I may have trouble, sir—”

“I’ll allow you one hour to find the precinct and explain matters to the right man.”

A faint smile appeared upon Satsu’s lips. Laudring did not see it; he was lighting a cigar. The Korean nodded slowly to himself; then spoke.

“I shall do as you have ordered, Mr. Laudring.”

SATSU went out through the kitchen. He unlocked the door and opened it, but carefully left the key on the inside. Taking a darkening passageway between the house and those in back of it, Satsu gained the nearest street.

His first stop was at a drug store, two blocks away. There the Korean put in a call, not to the precinct, but to Doctor Roy Tam. Tersely, he told how Laudring had listened to the radio report of Roucard’s death; and he told of the discovery of the Fate Joss in the cellar.

Doctor Tam’s reply came as assurance to Satsu, for the Korean’s smile returned after a short disappearance. When Satsu spoke again, his phrases showed approval.

“One hour has been given me,” he declared. “I shall be gone that long… One hour. Yes… But I can arrange for much time more if that is not enough. Yes, I can say that the police are coming.

“That will be very good, Doctor Tam. Yes. I can do as you have said. The police will not know… Yes, all will be well, once the Fate Joss is gone… One hour, I shall remain away…”

His call finished, Satsu left the drug store and began a slow walk about the neighboring blocks, keeping well distant from the house where Chichester Laudring had remained.

Back in the house itself, Laudring finished his cigar and glanced at his watch. A dozen minutes had passed; already, he was anxious for Satsu’s return. He went to the kitchen, opened the back door and looked out into the gloom. Seeing no sign of Satsu, he hastily closed the door; but left it unlocked.

Going into the hall, Laudring noticed the telephone. He picked up the receiver and heard the dial tone. Laudring’s brow furrowed. Had Satsu lied to him? Angrily, Laudring dialed the operator. The prompt reply proved that the telephone was not out of order. Fuming, Laudring ordered a connection with detective headquarters. The call went through; a gruff voice answered.

“Hello,” said Laudring. “My name is Laudring. Chichester Laudring… I have news for you. Regarding Raymond Roucard… He was here at my house last night…”

An inquiry for the address. Laudring gave it; then resumed.

“He took away the Fate Joss… A statue — a Chinese idol… Yes, Chinese. A big statue called the Fate Joss… You’ll see it when you come here… It’s back again. I don’t know who brought it.

“What’s that? No, this is no hoax… I’m not trying to get my name into the newspapers… No, I don’t want to talk to a reporter if there’s one there… I want detectives… Yes. Detectives… In a hurry…”

LAUDRING banged down the receiver. He stalked into the parlor, muttering to himself about the dumbness of the man with whom he had talked. It must be almost dark by this time and Laudring became more and more impatient for Satsu’s return.

Another glance at his watch told him that more than half an hour had passed since the Korean’s departure. The musty parlor bothered Laudring; he went upstairs and turned on the light in the front bedroom. He fancied that he heard the closing of a door below. He called to Satsu; but received no answer.

Creeping footsteps on the stairs. Laudring went out into the hall. He spoke another inquiry, nervously, as he fumbled for the light switch. The footsteps were closer; almost at the top of the stairs when the light came on.

A cry from Laudring. Before him loomed a crouching figure of a yellow man with venomous face. Big hands were huddled against the front of the intruder’s coat. Laudring backed toward the bedroom. As he did, the Chinaman leaped forward.

It was Hoang Fu. The murderer’s right hand flashed a long knife blade into view, while his huge left claw shot forward to Laudring’s throat. With the same speed that he had used against The Shadow, the killer overtook his prey.

The scene that followed was a duplicate of the attack that Hoang Fu must first have made against Raymond Roucard.

As big, deft fingers dug into Laudring’s neck, the thumb of the same hand pressed hard against the victim’s windpipe. Laudring choked as he staggered backward. Hoang Fu hurled him bodily against the inner wall of the bedroom.

Half stunned, Laudring slumped forward. Hoang Fu’s upswinging right hand drove the knife blade deep into the doomed man’s body.

As a dying gargle came from Laudring’s throat, Hoang Fu hurled the collapsing body backward. Laudring’s figure landed past the foot of the bed; like Roucard, this new victim lay face upward, with glassy stare. The handle of the knife glittered in the light.

Snarling his triumph, the murderer stalked forward and yanked the knife from Laudring’s breast. His prey was dead, with shirt front dyed as red as Roucard’s. Hoang Fu, the killer, had regained the new weapon that he had used for this murder. He was delivering gloating hisses as he crouched above Laudring’s body.

Suddenly, Hoang Fu became silent. He crept toward the door, then reached the hall. He chose the entrance to Satsu’s room and waited there, intent.

Caution alone had caused Hoang Fu’s move; but his action was to prove as timely as a premonition. Obscured in the entrance to Satsu’s room, Hoang Fu saw darkness stir upon the stairs.

A cloaked figure emerged from gloom. Burning eyes flashed toward the open door of Laudring’s room, where the body lay out of sight beyond the bed. Hoang Fu’s leering lips formed a silent gloat of new anticipation, as the crouching Chinaman prepared for a forward leap.

Again, with murder done, Hoang Fu the mighty killer was to have the joy of conflict with a cloaked avenger. The figure that had so weirdly come into the murderer’s view was the shrouded shape of The Shadow!