The Golden Grotto

CHAPTER XVIII THE SHADOW’S CLEW

“YOU are right, Vincent,” declared Professor Kirby Sheldon. “We must begin a careful search for Malbray Woodruff. I trust that our friend has not suffered the same fate as Elbert Cordes and Downs.”

Standing in the center of his living room, wearing his gray hat, and holding his gold-headed cane, Professor Sheldon made a commanding figure. His response to this emergency had impressed Harry Vincent. The professor had listened very carefully to the quick details that Harry had given him.

“There is one point, Vincent,” added the professor, “that may be purely accidental — at the same time it may be vital. Why was your life spared when Cordes and Downs were killed?”

“I don’t know,” responded Harry. Then, his mind reverting to his first theory, he added: “Unless it was Malbray Woodruff who did the shooting.”

“We must look for Woodruff,” said Sheldon. “Perhaps the man has gone insane. Shoyer — you go right down to Woodruff’s cottage.”

Shoyer hesitated.

“I’ll go,” suggested Harry. “Let Shoyer and Lester watch to see that all is well. Woodruff will be expecting me if he is there.”

All this while Harry had been swinging the revolver that he carried. Raising it in readiness, he crept from the professor’s house, and made his way to Woodruff’s cottage. Harry opened the front door cautiously. There was a light still burning — but no sign of Malbray Woodruff.

Harry called the artist; there was no response. Turning, to go back to the professor’s, Harry had a sudden realization of duty. There was danger abroad tonight. He might encounter new trouble. The Shadow must know what had happened.

Seizing a sheet of paper, Harry reached in his inside pocket, and drew out a red fountain pen. He carried this for special emergencies; this was the first time he had used it. With the pen, Harry wrote a short, concise report of what had happened. Not a word of ink appeared upon the paper. Harry crumpled the sheet, and tossed it in a corner of the room.

He had consumed about five minutes in the operation. It was time to be getting back to Sheldon’s. Harry pocketed the pen. He turned as some one knocked at the door. It proved to be Lester.

“Wondered what had happened to you,” said the man. “See anything of Woodruff?”

“Nothing,” responded Harry.

Together, they went back to Sheldon’s, to find the old sociologist alone. Shoyer was out making a search, the professor said. Lester started out to find him. The professor went into his study. Alone, Harry suddenly noticed the professor’s hat.

Quickly, Harry pulled a folded slip of paper from the hatband. A message from The Shadow! It was important, at this moment.

Pocketing his revolver, Harry unfolded the sheet of paper and read the coded lines. The writing faded, and Harry’s stare was as blank as the paper in his hands.

Amazement had gripped Harry Vincent. He stood like a man in a dream.

All was clear to him now. In that message, The Shadow had revealed the truth — had given Harry work to do — work that could not now be done because of the chaos that had arisen at East Point!

Malbray Woodruff — Elbert Cordes — Downs — all of these were innocent. The facts which The Shadow had discovered through his keen observation and amazing intuition had passed entirely over Harry Vincent’s head.

Harry’s next thought was one of danger. He realized that he was in a terrible predicament. The incredible truth had shown him his mistakes.

As his hands dropped the piece of blank paper, Harry knew that he must act at once. He gripped his revolver and hurried to Professor Sheldon’s study. The old man looked up from his desk.

“Professor Sheldon” — Harry’s words were firm — “I know the truth about the trouble here at East Point. I am going to end it now—”

Harry turned swiftly. He was too late. A man landed upon him with a terrific spring. Harry caught one glimpse of Lester’s face. Then something struck the back of his head, and consciousness passed away!

ONE hour later, the cottages at East Point were silent and unlighted, when the glare of headlights shone upon them. A coupe swung up the road, and came to a stop. Its lights went out. A silent figure emerged in total darkness.

A few minutes later, the door of Professor Sheldon’s cottage opened. A tiny disk of light, no larger than a half dollar, shone upon the wall. That spot enlarged. The hand that held a flashlight moved as a mysterious being of the dark stalked through the cottage.

There was not a sign of a living being in the place. Only furniture — and no items that could have been of value. The silent inspector examined the desk in the professor’s study. The drawers were empty.

Through the house went the light. Behind it, hidden in darkness, were the keen eyes of The Shadow.

Only one object caught The Shadow’s interest. That was a blank sheet of paper — a piece that had been folded — lying beneath a table. A low laugh came from concealed lips as a black-gloved hand entered the light to pluck the paper from the floor.

The Shadow had found the blank remainder of the message that he had sent to Harry Vincent on this very night.

The tiny light appeared and enlarged inside the cottage where Elbert Cordes had lived. The bodies of the old man and his servant had been removed. There was no trace of the murder that had taken place here tonight.

Again, The Shadow laughed.

Last came the inspection of Malbray Woodruff’s cottage. As in the other buildings, objects had been removed from here. One item, however, had passed notice. That was a crumpled sheet of paper on the floor, in a corner.

A black glove picked up the paper ball. Soon it lay spread upon a table. A black hand brought a sponge from a little metal box, and dabbed the surface of the paper.

Coded words immediately appeared upon the sheet.

This was the message that Harry Vincent had written with the special pen. An invisible ink had been used. Here, in concise words, was a message to The Shadow — a message which Harry had been unable to send, but which he had left, should The Shadow arrive.

It told of Woodruff’s disappearance — of the deaths at the Cordes cottage — how Harry’s life had been spared by the assassin — of Professor Kirby Sheldon’s return — of the search then going on for Malbray Woodruff.

It also mentioned Little Knob — how Woodruff and Harry had seen Cordes and Downs returning. On an innocent sheet of crumpled paper, Harry Vincent had left a full description of all that he had learned that evening.

The Shadow’s laugh came in shuddering tones as the writing slowly vanished from the paper. The Shadow’s hand held two blank sheets — the one which The Shadow had just read; and the one which he had found at Sheldon’s.

THE light reappeared in the professor’s cottage. It showed a door leading to a basement. The Shadow descended. With his light, he made a thorough inspection of that part of the premises. The light clicked out, and its next appearance was upon the bay beach, where it glimmered upon the little rowboat that had belonged to Malbray Woodruff.

Hoisted by a powerful hand, the little boat slid into the water. It moved silently away toward Little Knob. With soundless oars, with noiseless rowlocks, the tiny craft was guided along the very edge of the mound-shaped island.

At times, the flashlight appeared against the banks. The tide was higher than it had been in the day; but The Shadow, none the less, conducted an exacting search. It was more than an hour before the little boat again glided to the beach.

Shortly afterward, the coupe turned back along the road that led from East Point. Its motor purred swiftly through the night. The Shadow was returning to New York.

Had The Shadow failed tonight? The sudden departure was a strange proceeding. Delayed by the affray at Maurice Traymer’s, his plans balked by the unexpected actions which Malbray Woodruff had performed at East Point, The Shadow had indeed arrived too late for action.

He had found empty houses where people had been living but a few hours before. Harry Vincent, his trusted agent, was missing. It seemed that The Shadow had actually abandoned him to his fate!

Yet the driver of the Manhattan-bound coupe expressed no disappointment. Instead, he laughed at times. Within the coupe, weird echoes of a mysterious mirth were uttered in a low, uncanny mockery.

The Shadow had not failed tonight. His plans had been altered — that was all. He had learned facts which he had suspected — ideas which fitted in with his theories. With Harry Vincent a prisoner, the stake for which The Shadow was striving was merely larger.

Lives were in the balance — there they could rest. With uncanny intuition, The Shadow had learned data that he wished to know. The denouement of an incredible drama was in the making. The Shadow was content to wait.

Until now, The Shadow had studied. The Shadow had foreseen. The Shadow had waited for the development of facts. Tonight, he had received a clew in Harry Vincent’s message. It fitted in the missing links in the strange chain of evidence that told the truth of crime.

The Shadow was ready for the climax, because The Shadow knew the factors now involved.

The Shadow always knows!