The Killer

CHAPTER XX THE GRAY FEDORA

IT was a full minute before The Shadow spoke. During that period of tenseness, every witness of the strange being’s presence trembled. Backed by his powerful weapons, The Shadow constituted a weird figure that seemed something more than human.

When words came from The Shadow’s hidden lips, they were the hissing throbs of a sinister sneer — a voice so sepulchral that it added to the eerie presence and brought new shudders to all who heard it.

“It has been said,” whispered The Shadow, in his sardonic tone, “that no living being would dare admit himself to be the one who concerned himself with the deaths of Roy Selbrig, Burton Blissip, and Sidney Cooperdale.”

The names were pronounced with a scornful touch that foretold an amazing revelation yet to come.

“There is one who enjoyed the privilege,” resumed The Shadow in a mocking voice, “of ensnaring those three in traps of death. You are staring at him now. The Shadow!”

Joe Cardona’s notebook dropped from his hand. The detective gazed in dumbfounded wonder. The Shadow laughed.

“My statements,” he hissed, “need not go on record. They stand upon their own truth. I am the one whom you seek; but I am not the murderer of the three whom you call victims. They died from their own vile schemes!”

Joe Cardona waited tensely for the next words. Harland Mullrick stared in amazement. Donald Gershawl’s face twitched; his hands, however, remained as though paralyzed.

“Four men,” pronounced The Shadow, “were banded to deal death. Through their gangster minion — Slugs Raffney — they disposed of Luis Santo. He was a man who had betrayed a trust. Luis Santo sold out to the four whose names he gave to Harland Mullrick!”

The Shadow paused. Instead of words, he emitted a sardonic laugh which turned to a gibing burst of reverberating merriment. The walls of the room echoed The Shadow’s taunts.

“Roy Selbrig was the first appointed,” sneered The Shadow. “He was to lead Harland Mullrick to his doom. It was I — disguised as Mullrick — who met him at the Club Galaxy.

“He gave me a doped cigarette” — The Shadow’s voice turned to a momentary laugh — “which I returned to him without his knowledge. It was I who left that cab. Slugs Raffney was there to slay the man who remained. Thus” — The Shadow’s tone denoted scorn — “did Roy Selbrig, potential murderer, die!”

DONALD GERSHAWL’S face was ashen. His very countenance proved the truth of The Shadow’s words, so far as Roy Selbrig’s intentions were concerned.

Again, The Shadow spoke. His voice held a peculiar echo that made its sound a weird monotone, unlike the utterance of any human throat.

“Burton Blissip was the second appointed,” resumed The Shadow. “He had a map of Mexico. He had pins for it. It was I — disguised as Mullrick — who visited him at his hotel. A certain pin was resting upon the spot marked Metatitos. I removed it — unwatched by Blissip — to the point designated Guadalajara. Blissip pressed that pin head of his own volition. Thus” — The Shadow paused — “did Burton Blissip, potential murderer, die!”

Joe Cardona was as rigid and expressionless as any judge who ever held court. Harland Mullrick was staring with eyes opened wide in hope. Donald Gershawl was trembling.

“Sidney Cooperdale,” revealed The Shadow, “was the third appointed. He sent himself a cane — a Penang lawyer. It contained a snake — a naja haje. His servant placed it in his curio room. Cooperdale removed the head of the cane and closed the door.

“It was I — disguised as Mullrick — who arrived. I entered the door on the right — not the door on the left. I opened the door between the bedroom and the curio room. The snake hissed. I departed by the same way that I had come.

“Sidney Cooperdale returned. He entered his bedroom. The snake was waiting. Thus” — again the pause — “did Sidney Cooperdale, potential murderer, die!”

The Shadow’s eyes were burning toward Donald Gershawl. The financier was slumping; yet under that hypnotic stare, he seemed unable to fall.

“There is a fourth,” accused The Shadow, “who was self-appointed. He felt satisfaction when the others died. That left him alone to gain the wealth that the secret of the lost mines would bring.

“Though he knew Harland Mullrick to be innocent — for the others were the ones who plotted murder — he has sought to lay the crime on that one man. He has failed. It is not necessary to pronounce his name.”

The truth of The Shadow’s words was evident. Donald Gershawl was staggering. Backward, like a man in a daze, the guilty financier toppled toward the wall. His arms were outstretched. His fingers writhed feverishly against the paneling of the room. His eyes were staring straight ahead; from the side wall where he stood toward the windows opposite.

FREED from The Shadow’s gaze, Gershawl looked appealingly toward Joe Cardona. He saw that the detective was convinced of his guilt. He saw Harland Mullrick’s wild-eyed gaze. He saw his servants, cowed by The Shadow’s presence.

“The proof!” screamed Gershawl, turning toward The Shadow. “The proof! Prove that your statements are not lies—”

His voice broke as he heard The Shadow’s laugh. The Shadow’s right hand passed beneath the black cloak. The left, with its single automatic, remained as a sufficient threat. The right hand reappeared. It carried a shapeless object of gray.

“The proof,” sneered The Shadow, “is not for you, Donald Gershawl. It is for the man who was to be the victim of your evil plotting — whose wealth was to be shared by you and those who have died by their own devices. That Harland Mullrick may have the assurance of my words, I, The Shadow, present this proof!”

The right hand made a sweep. The shapeless object transformed itself into a duplicate of Mullrick’s gray fedora. Up came the gloved hand. The Shadow’s black hat dropped backward between his shoulders and the wall. The collar of the black cloak moved downward.

Not even a gasp greeted the startling transformation. Unconsciously, heads moved. Joe Cardona, Donald Gershawl — the startled servants as well — stared from The Shadow to Harland Mullrick, who remained petrified in his chair.

They were viewing two faces that were the same! Harland Mullrick’s tanned countenance, with its shrewd, pointed features. This was the face that murderous men had seen. Those who had sought Harland Mullrick’s death had been completely deceived by The Shadow’s complete mastery of disguise!

The Shadow’s right hand reached behind his head. The gray fedora tipped forward above his made-up features. The discarded headpiece floated to the floor as the black slouch hat replaced it on The Shadow’s head. The collar of the cloak turned upward as gloved fingers pressed it. Only burning eyes remained in view where the duplicated countenance of Harland Mullrick had been before.

The Shadow’s right hand moved toward the folds of the black cloak. That action brought a return move from Donald Gershawl.

Encouraged by having seen a face which at least seemed human, fearing the consequences that were to follow the revelation of his evil plots, Gershawl grasped the edge of a wall panel with his finger-spread right hand. With a hoarse scream of mingled rage and terror, he called for aid.

A solid door shot upward to show the spiral stairway that led to the tower above. Out from the hiding place sprang a fierce ruffian who wielded a huge revolver. At his heels were two others of his ilk.

Slugs Raffney, the man who had dealt death at Donald Gershawl’s order, had been summoned to the assistance of his evil chief!