The House That Vanished

CHAPTER XII FROM THE NIGHT

BEYOND the door that Daggart had left open was a further hall. It was the twin of the corridor by which Lanford had come to this meeting room. Daggart’s footsteps had died; now, after a brief-lapse, foot-falls were returning.

All eyes were toward that door as Myra Dolthan appeared. Standing on the threshold, the girl gazed inquiringly toward Taussig Kermal. Then she spied Fred Lanford.

Her eyes showed involuntary surprise as she recognized him as one of the men to whom she had given a warning.

“Come in, Myra,” requested Kermal, in a kindly tone. “I want you to meet Mr. Lanford. He was one of the strangers who came to the other house. Do you remember him?”

“I do,” replied Myra, nodding slowly. The girl’s face had paled; but its color was returning as she advanced into the room. “I–I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Lanford.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Dolthan,” returned Lanford. He had risen and was bowing. “Very pleased.”

“Your friend?” inquired Myra. “Where is he?”

“Jay Goodling?” laughed Lanford. “Back in town, where he belongs. Wondering where I am, I suppose.”

“You see, Myra” — Kermal caught the girl’s attention — “I told you the exact truth when I said that no harm had befallen those two strangers. We did not hold them as prisoners. They were released by Croy. Both of them returned to Sheffield.

“Mr. Lanford came here tonight, after a chance meeting with Croy. I must admit that there was a misunderstanding; but after Croy brought Lanford here, I explained matters. Lanford is our guest; not our prisoner.”

Myra Dolthan appeared relieved. Fred Lanford smiled. This was certainly the girl whom he had met on Saturday night. He had remembered Myra’s countenance from the vague light of the old house. Here, where he could see her face more plainly, he was absolutely sure of her identity.

Myra Dolthan was attired in the same dark traveling costume that she had been wearing that other night. Her voice was the same; the darkness of her hair produced the same contrast against the whiteness of her face.

“I was worried about you, Mr. Lanford,” explained Myra, as she seated herself in a chair. “Mr. Kermal and Doctor Claig assured me that you and your friend were uninjured. But I knew that there had been a scuffle after you had failed to heed my warning.”

“Mr. Lanford was concerned about your safety, Myra,” put in Claig, with his dry tone. “So Mr. Kermal decided that it would be best for you to meet.”

“You see, Myra,” stated Kermal, “I have made certain statements to Mr. Lanford. I feel convinced that he believes what I have told him; but your corroboration would be most welcome.”

“May I ask Miss Dolthan some questions?” queried Lanford, facing Kermal boldly.

“Certainly,” replied the lawyer. “Myra” — he stared toward the girl — “you may answer any questions that Mr. Lanford asks.”

THE girl nodded. Her eyes were looking straight toward Kermal. The Shadow, watching from the curtains, could see the fixed, almost hypnotic stare that had come over Myra’s expression. Not once did Kermal relax his gaze.

“Miss Dolthan,” stated Lanford, “I have been told that you are here of your own free choice. Is that correct?”

“Certainly.” The girl spoke in a low tone; then turned toward Lanford as Kermal’s gaze relaxed. “Yes. I lived in the old house at Mr. Kermal’s advice. I came here also because he advised it.”

“Yet you warned Goodling and myself,” insisted Lanford. “You told us to leave that house on Dobson’s Road. Why?”

Myra did not look toward Kermal; yet it was plain, to The Shadow, that the girl knew the lawyer was watching her. Myra spoke; her voice trembled slightly.

“I was afraid,” she said to Lanford. “Not for myself; but for you and your friend. I was afraid that you would be mistaken for enemies. We expected such persons to arrive.”

“But you thought Goodling and I were all right?”

“Yes. That is why I warned you.”

“You knew that a man was dead in the house?”

“Yes. I knew that Blissop had been killed.”

“And you believe that his death was either accidental or justified by circumstances?”

“Yes. Croy told me that he shot Blissop in order to save Daggart. I believed Croy.”

Lanford nodded. Despite the fact that Myra spoke as if under pressure, her statements were clear. Kermal smiled; then made a suggestion to Lanford.

“Ask Miss Dolthan if she thinks you should cooperate with us,” said the lawyer. Then, to Myra: “Remember, Myra, you may answer as you think best.”

Again the girl’s eyes met Kermal’s. Myra nodded instinctively. The Shadow could see that Kermal was forcing her to a choice. Lanford, however, did not discern the subtle fact.

“Mr. Kermal wants me to write a letter,” stated the young man. “One that can be posted from New York. A letter saying that everything is all right; that you are safe. That I am satisfied that all can be explained. Do you feel that I should comply with that request?”

“I do,” responded Myra. “I advise you to do as Mr. Kermal suggests.”

“And shall I remain here, and aid in keeping searchers from learning where you are?”

“Yes. If Mr. Kermal wishes you to do so.”

Lanford paused. Again he was impressed by the girl’s definite opinions. Kermal spoke.

“Are there any other questions, Mr. Lanford?” he inquired.

Fred started to shake his head; then stopped. One question had occurred to him. He turned to Myra.

“Who are these enemies of yours,” he asked. “Is there anyone in particular whom you fear? Anyone whom you think—”

LANFORD stopped short. Myra was gripping the arms of her chair. Her face had turned pale; she was biting her lips. The girl glanced nervously toward Kermal.

The lawyer came to his feet. For a moment he glared at Lanford; then his wrath subsided before Fred noticed the suppressed outburst.

“Miss Dolthan is highly nervous,” spoke Kermal. “Your question has disturbed her. We must not trouble her with a subject that arouses her fears. Am I right, Doctor Claig?”

“Quite right,” responded the physician. “As you know, Lanford, I am a specialist on nerve conditions. I believe that it would be best for Miss Dolthan to rest.”

Kermal nodded. The girl arose. She steadied and managed to say good night. Fred watched her walk from the room. Daggart closed the door immediately after the girl’s departure.

“About the letter,” declared Kermal, brusquely. “If you write it at once, Doctor Claig can drive downtown and post it so it will go out in the early morning mall.”

“What shall I state in it?” asked Lanford.

“I shall leave that to you,” replied Kermal. “Goodling is a friend of yours. Tell him that you are in New York; that you have met Myra Dolthan. State that you have promised her that you will not explain matters until later. Choose your own wording, so the letter will be natural.”

Lanford nodded and turned about toward the door by which he had entered. Kermal nodded to Daggart. The secretary followed Goodling. The Shadow saw Croy in the hall when the door was opened by Lanford. Then Fred and Daggart went out; the door closed. “Not bad, Claig,” chuckled Kermal. “Not bad at all. We sold Lanford on our story. Others will believe us also.”

“It was Myra who convinced him,” corrected Claig. “Don’t forget that, Kermal.”

“Myra will convince others later.”

“Not if they question her while you are absent.”

“Ridiculous, Claig. She knows what to say.”

“Up to a certain point, yes. But after that — well, you saw how she acted when Lanford questioned her about who the enemies were.”

Kermal grunted angrily; but he had no reply. He paced back and forth across the room. Claig looked dour.

“I guess you’re right,” admitted Kermal, stopping his pacing to face the physician. “Everything is explainable up to a certain point. After that, we need proofs.”

“Which you do not have,” reminded Claig, “and which you can never obtain. Remember, Kermal, how you first told the story to Myra. I was there. I saw her reaction.”

“She listened just as Lanford did tonight. She believed me completely.”

“At first, yes. You told her about threatening danger. That you were performing a duty for her dead father. She welcomed your protection; and then she asked whom it was you feared.”

“And I told her Rufus Dolthan. Her uncle.”

“Yes. You told her that. Like the fool you can sometimes be.”

“I made her believe that her uncle wants to murder her.”

“You made her make believe she believed it.”

“She certainly mistrusts her uncle.”

“And she mistrusts you as well. That girl is in a state of confusion, Kermal. As a witness, she would probably turn against you.”

KERMAL paced again. At last he stopped and pounded his fist upon the table.

“There are millions of dollars hinged on this game of ours, Claig,” declared the lawyer. “You and I are in it deep. You know as well as I do that we have to hold off everyone until after Myra Dolthan becomes of age.

“The girl believes sufficiently in me. As long as she encounters no other influence, she will sign anything that I ask. No one — not even Rufus Dolthan — can question the legality of a paper that bears her signature after she is twenty-one.

“Provided, of course, that it is witnessed. That part of it is easily handled. Croy and Daggart can sign; better still, you and Lanford. Four of you.”

“And suppose,” suggested Claig, “that the lot of us are jailed on account of Blissop and Yager—”

“That does not matter,” broke in Kermal. “There’s only one document that Myra needs to sign. That is her will. In the absence of a later will, such an instrument would remain valid.”

“You are forgetting Rufus Dolthan,” reminded Claig. “Suppose all of us — Lanford, of course, excepted — should become fugitives from justice. Myra would be restored to her uncle. She would know us as thieves and murderers; she would see some game in everything that we have done. No matter how cleverly you word that will, Kermal, its purpose will appear suspicious.”

“We can discuss that point later,” decided Kermal. “I disagree with you on it, Claig. Myra may have doubted some of my statements; but she believes enough of them to make matters safe. As you yourself say, she is in a state of confusion. That is good.

“I made her trust me at the start. Then to clinch matters, I tried to shatter her belief in her uncle. My plan did not work as I expected it. But it did have a negative effect; it made the girl mistrust both her uncle and myself.

“Let her remain confused. Let her distrust everyone concerned. She will seek new friends; and because of her mistrust, she will find safe ones. She will go by the advice of some reputable lawyer; and I will defy any attorney to uncover a joker in the will that I intend to have Myra sign.

“She will be advised to let it stand. We will still hold the upper hand. But all this, Claig” — Kermal shook his shaggy head — “is useless speculation. We are smart enough to come into the clear.”

CLAIG looked unconvinced. Kermal became savage in his argument.

“I’ve told you,” he asserted, “that we can explain Blissop’s death. They can never prove Yager’s murder against us. The birds who finished him have flown.”

“A bad combination,” reminded Claig. “I was afraid that matters would get beyond us. But you were stubborn, Kermal. You insisted on acting as you have.”

“We have Lanford as an ally,” mused Kermal. “He will testify in our behalf.”

“Not when he learns what happened at the courthouse tonight.”

“But Croy and Daggart will stand by.”

“Croy, yes. But not Daggart. He will stick to his story regarding Blissop’s death, because he might be implicated. But when you are accused of Yager’s murder, Daggart will have qualms.”

“How can he bring any charges against me?”

“He can’t. But he will doubt you. He will no longer be whole-heartedly for you. Whatever you do, Kermal, say nothing to Daggart about that crime downtown tonight.”

“You mean that even if I assured him that I did not order Yager’s death he would not believe me?”

“Daggart would not believe you. He knows your stubborn traits, Kermal. If he grasps the idea that crooks are teamed up with us, he will desert us.”

“And report Blissop’s death in order to save his own hide?”

“Exactly. He would consider himself justified.”

Claig paused. Kermal was about to speak when a light tap sounded at the door. Kermal growled; Daggart entered. The secretary was bringing Lanford’s letter.

KERMAL read the epistle. He nodded in satisfaction, put the letter in its envelope and thrust the latter into a larger wrapper, upon which he wrote an address.

“The letter is all right, Claig,” assured the lawyer. “Get it downtown right away. I have addressed it to a friend in New York. He will mail Lanford’s letter back. Lanford addressed its envelope to Goodling.”

Claig took the letter and departed. The Shadow saw Daggart watch the physician’s departure. Daggart’s face looked pale and troubled. Kermal noted the fact also.

“Good night, Daggart,” said the lawyer. “It’s time for sleep. If anything worries you, we can talk about it in the morning.”

The secretary nodded and went out by the door which he had entered. Kermal glanced about the room; then went to the same door and turned out the lights. The Shadow saw the hallway light as the lawyer opened the door; then the glow was obscured as the barrier closed behind Kermal.

Curtains parted in darkness. Softly, The Shadow entered the living room. From outside, he could hear the buzz of a motor. Doctor Claig was driving his coupe from the garage.

Reaching the portal, The Shadow opened the door to find a darkened hall. One glimmer of light was present; it came from beneath a door at the end of the corridor. Softly, The Shadow stole in that direction.

He stopped when he reached the door itself. Shrouded amid darkness, The Shadow paused to listen. The sound outside had faded. Claig had departed townward. An absolute hush held sway throughout this entire house.