The Key

CHAPTER XVIII DORRINGTON RESPONDS

“HELLO… Yes… This is Mr. Talbot.”

The speaker was Edwin Berlett. He was standing in his room at the Goliath Hotel. Evening lights of Manhattan were visible through the window.

“Yes…” The lawyer’s face showed an intense gleam. “Yes… I have the information you sent… I understand… Yes. That’s all I need…”

Berlett hung up. He went to a closet and obtained hat and overcoat. For the first time since his arrival in New York, Edwin Berlett intended to leave the Hotel Goliath. Until tonight, his longest trips from the room had been no further than the hotel lobby.

Berlett walked from his room. He reached the elevators. While he was waiting for a car, a young man strolled into the hall. It was Harry Vincent. To Edwin Berlett, The Shadow’s agent appeared to be an ordinary guest.

Reaching the lobby, Berlett strolled out to the street. He hailed a taxicab. Harry, following, called a second vehicle. As Harry entered his cab, a third taxi shot past. A few seconds later, the three vehicles were speeding forward in procession, Harry’s at the rear.

“Where to?” the driver was asking.

“Turn right,” ordered Harry, as he observed Berlett’s cab swing up the nearest avenue. “Keep going until I give you another order.”

Three blocks up the avenue, the trio of cabs threaded their way through traffic. Harry’s cab was almost up to the one that seemed to be following Berlett’s. Suddenly, the lawyer’s cab swung right into a narrow street. Harry snapped an order to his driver.

Berlett’s taxi had gained by the maneuver. It was half way down the block before the second cab made the turn, with Harry’s close behind. Suddenly, Berlett’s taxi came to a stop. Stepping from his vehicle, the lawyer entered a building. The cab pulled away.

The second jehu ground his brakes. As Harry’s cab swept up, The Shadow’s agent saw a man leap from the stopped cab and dash in pursuit of Berlett. Harry ordered a quick stop. He tossed a bill to the driver and hurried into the building.

It was the arcade of an office building. Though open at night, the place was deserted. Far ahead, Harry glimpsed Berlett leaving by the door on the next street. He saw a wiry pursuer hustling on the lawyer’s trail. Harry walked swiftly. Reaching the further door, he stopped.

Out on the sidewalk, the wiry man was staring toward the avenue. Harry could not see the fellow’s face, but he knew what must have happened. A single cab had been waiting at the rear entrance of the arcade. Berlett had gained the vehicle; he was again on his way. The wiry trailer had no chance to follow. Harry saw the man clench his fists, then walk toward the avenue.

Harry, too, had lost the trail. His one satisfaction was that Berlett had also slipped the unknown man. Harry walked back through the arcade. His job was to return to the Hotel Goliath and report to Burbank.

SOME minutes later, a taxi stopped at an avenue near Kelwood Markin’s. Edwin Berlett alighted. He chose the street in back of Markin’s home. Between two buildings, he could see dim lights in the lawyer’s house. Berlett sidled along, studying other buildings.

He found one to his liking. He had made the same choice as The Shadow. Moving through a passageway, Berlett stopped beneath the boarded windows of an empty house. He looked upward, breathed tensely in the dark, then looked and found a rear door.

Cautiously, Berlett tried the knob. The door gave, almost at his touch. The lawyer hesitated; then entered. He produced a pocket flashlight and picked his way through a dusty hallway toward a flight of steps.

Berlett, apparently, was thinking that this house might have the same layout as Markin’s, for he inspected the doorways that he passed. He reached the top floor and threw the beams of his torch along the ceiling. He saw the trapdoor.

Peering into a room, Berlett spied an object in the corner. It was a curtain rod, made of wood. He obtained the rod and carried it to the hall. He poked against the trapdoor. It yielded as easily as the back entrance. With the rod, Berlett had no trouble in shifting the trap door off from the opening.

Replacing the curtain rod where he had found it, the lawyer returned to make the ascent. Berlett had proven his agility in his flight from the Southern Star. He gave new evidence of his physical ability. He opened a door, gripped the top with his hands and drew his feet up to the knobs. Raising his right, he caught the edge of the opened trap. His left hand followed. Berlett swung free and kicked the door shut. With a strenuous effort, the lawyer reached the roof.

Crouching, Berlett moved toward Markin’s. His feet crunched on cinders. Reaching the house he wanted, Berlett worked upon the trapdoor that he found. This barrier should certainly have been tightly in place. Yet it gave when the lawyer hoisted.

Smiling at the ease with which he had conquered obstacles, Berlett dropped boldly into Markin’s house. He had left the trapdoor overlapping. Moving softly along a thick carpet, he discovered a stout table in the corner. Using this piece of furniture, he mounted to close the trap. Putting the table back in the corner, he stole to the stairs.

When he reached the gloomy first-floor hall, Berlett spied the yawning entrance to the living room. Darkness lured the intruder. Berlett moved into the living room. He spied the thick dark mass of draperies.

Again choosing in The Shadow’s fashion, Berlett moved to the curtains and found a hiding place upon the window ledge.

Minutes ticked by. Something swished in the outer hall. Berlett did not hear the sound, nor did he see the form that glided in from the hall. The lawyer did not know that another intruder had arrived. The Shadow, following the very route that Berlett had picked, was in Kelwood Markin’s living room.

THE SHADOW was stealthy, even in the darkness. He seemed in no haste to gain his usual hiding place. Hence he was not far inside the door when a sudden dingle announced a visitor to the house. Swerving silently, The Shadow headed for the door of Markin’s bedroom. His action was well chosen.

Hardly had The Shadow gained this temporary hiding place before Howland arrived and turned on the living-room lights. The secretary looked about in methodical fashion, then continued to the front door. The Shadow, quartered in the gloom of Markin’s temporary bedroom, decided to remain.

He picked a hiding place behind a huge chair that was close to a fire place. The chair was halfway on the hearth; evidently the gas-log in the fire place was seldom used by Kelwood Markin.

George Tharxell entered the living room with Howland. The junior partner took a chair; Howland left and went back into the study. Tharxell, awaiting the arrival of Lester Dorrington, sat alone, totally unconscious of the fact that two observers were close at hand.

OTHERS were awaiting the arrival of Dorrington. In a parked car across the street from the old house, Ralph Weston and Kelwood Markin were on the alert. In addition, four men from headquarters were posted at vantage spots.

Five minutes passed. A cab rolled along the street. It stopped in front of Markin’s. A man alighted and went up the steps. It was Dorrington, alone.

“Wait,” whispered Markin, nervously, as he and the commissioner saw Howland admit the visitor.

Another tense five minutes. Markin opened the door of the parked car. He stepped to the sidewalk. Weston followed. Both knew that the coast was clear. Dorrington had brought no aids. Together, Weston and Markin crossed to the house. The old lawyer rang his own door bell.

Howland answered and motioned Weston toward the rear. The commissioner tiptoed past the closed door of the living room. Markin and Howland followed slowly, talking as they came. With Weston safely past, Markin opened the door and stepped into the living room. He was greeted by Lester Dorrington.

“Ah!” exclaimed Markin. “I am the one who is late. My apologies, sir. I was out for a short walk. How long have you been waiting, Tharxell?”

“About five or ten minutes before Mr. Dorrington arrived,” replied Tharxell. “I can go, sir. If you wish, I can return later.”

“No need, Tharxell. Here” — Markin drew an envelope from his pocket — “I have gone over these papers in regard to the Stevenson claim. I can make no criticism of your work, Tharxell, although I have added a few marginal comments. You intend to see Stevenson tonight?”

“I can see him if necessary.”

“Do so. Call me afterward. That is, if you finish the business before ten o’clock. Not after ten, Tharxell. I shall be sleeping soundly by that time.”

Tharxell departed. Markin took his position behind the table and looked toward Dorrington. The visiting lawyer made a comment.

“You are still engaged in practice, I take it,” remarked Dorrington, “even though you do not go to your office.”

“My name is still on the door,” returned Markin. “Tharxell, however, is in full charge. I have been actually retired for a full year.”

“I see,” nodded Dorrington. “Then you want to see me regarding an old matter. One of long standing, I suppose.”

“Yes,” declared Markin. “It concerns the affairs of Rufus Gilwood, deceased. You, I understand, handled his estate.”

“I did,” said Dorrington.

“I have something here that will interest you.” Markin opened a table drawer. He searched without result. “Hmm. What did I do with it? Wait here, please. I must go to my study. I believe I left it there.”

MARKIN went to the door and opened it. He entered the hall and closed the door behind him. He continued to the rear and opened the door of the study. He placed his finger to his lips as he looked toward the three men who were seated there.

“The key,” whispered Markin. “The key of the safe deposit box. Where is it?”

“I left it at headquarters,” returned Cardona, in a low tone.

“Do you have one of the others?”

“No.”

“Here is a key” — the interjection came from Howland. “It is one of your own, sir. Will it do?”

Markin nodded as he clutched the key. Howland had brought the object from a desk drawer. Pacing back to the living room, Markin entered and closed the door. Dorrington was puffing a cigar.

“This is it.” Markin went behind the table and let the key clatter as he spoke. “This, Mr. Dorrington, was given to me by Rufus Gilwood.”

“How long before his death?” inquired Dorrington, curiously.

“A year or more,” recalled the old attorney. “I received it in confidence. Gilwood told me that he might return for it. If he did not, I was to open the safe deposit box and distribute the funds that I found there. They were to go to people named.”

“Well?”

“Gilwood never returned to my office. I opened the box after his death.”

“What did you find there?”

“Nothing.”

Dorrington puffed calmly at his cigar. He made no comment. It was Markin who was forced to speak.

“I knew that you were the attorney in charge of Gilwood’s estate,” asserted the old lawyer. “But I hesitated to tell you of the matter. The box was empty. What could I do about it?”

“Old Gilwood was an eccentric sort,” mused Dorrington. “That may have been his idea of a joke.”

“He paid me a thousand dollars as a retainer,” returned Markin.

“That makes it different,” declared Dorrington. “It placed you under obligation. Under the circumstances, you should have come to me at once. Why did you not do so immediately after Gilwood’s death?”

“Because the box was empty. I was its sole custodian. I might have been accused of theft.”

“Of theft?” Dorrington snorted. “Accused of something, Markin, but not of theft. The facts of this case are evident. You and Rufus Gilwood were technically guilty of conspiracy to defraud the government and the commonwealth of inheritance taxes.”

“Not so!” challenged Markin. “We did not discuss such matters. Moreover, there proved to be no funds involved.”

“The intent for conspiracy was present. You have proven it by your own statement. I was the attorney who represented the estate of Rufus Gilwood. You should have brought the key to me before the box was opened!”

With this assertion, Lester Dorrington arose from his chair and stepped toward the door. Kelwood Markin stared, his hands clinching the edge of the table.

“You handled the estate,” spluttered the old lawyer. “You knew about me — about this key. You are to blame, Dorrington—”

“I?” Dorrington laughed. “Talk facts, Markin, not fancy. You have admitted that your first negotiations with Rufus Gilwood were of doubtful quality. Your failure to communicate with me regarding the key points to conspiracy. Your silence since Gilwood’s death is a bad factor in itself; your belated statement of your actions is final proof of the guilt on your conscience.

“I handled Rufus Gilwood’s estate in a manner both legal and commendable. I do not care to have the dealings of a shyster foisted upon my enviable record. If you value your own position, Markin, you will keep your silence. Your statements are a discredit to you and to the profession which I represent and you belittle.”

Plucking hat and overcoat from the chair where they were laying, Dorrington walked haughtily from the room. He left the door open behind him. He went out through the front while Howland, in response to Markin’s call, was peering from the study.

Seeing the secretary, old Kelwood Markin clicked out the light in the living room and hastened along the hall. He joined Weston and Cardona. The old man was spluttering with rage as he closed the door of the study.

THE SHADOW was moving from the bedroom. Silently, unseen by Edwin Berlett, the phantom intruder gained the hall. He moved to the door of the study; merging with darkness, The Shadow listened. He could hear the tones of Markin’s indignant voice.

A few minutes later, Edwin Berlett came stealing from the living room. As the departing lawyer neared the steps, The Shadow, hearing the sound of tiptoed footfalls, turned in that direction. Even in the gloom, sharp eyes could distinguish Berlett’s dark countenance.

Then came a click from the study. The door opened outward. The Shadow swinging to the wall beneath the stairs, was out of sight behind the swinging barrier. Berlett, on the stairs, continued upward.

The intruding lawyer was on his way from Markin’s. His mission here was ended. But The Shadow remained. Hidden behind the opened door, he awaited the events that were to come.