The Ribbon Clues

CHAPTER XV. THE THIRD RIBBON

“WE are waiting for Mallikan,” announced Commissioner Weston, from behind his table, in Hungerfeld’s living room. “Before he arrives, Cranston, I shall describe to you the clue that we have found. Through this gentleman, Mr. Justin Hungerfeld, an old friend of Milton Callard.”

The Shadow shook hands with Hungerfeld. Weston rested his elbows upon the table and resumed.

“Some months ago,” explained the commissioner, “Mr. Hungerfeld received a letter from Milton Callard. In substance, the letter requested Hungerfeld to preserve a certain object that came with it, holding the same until the sixth of this December.”

“The fifth of this December, commissioner,” corrected Hungerfeld, in his crackly voice. “That was the date specified.”

“The fifth of December,” stated Weston, emphatically. “I must have misunderstood Cardona when he spoke across the telephone. Very well. Mr. Hungerfeld was told to take the object to the office of Roger Mallikan; to show it to Mallikan and wait until three such objects had arrived. Then Mallikan — according to the letter — would know what was to be done.”

The Shadow looked quizzically toward Weston, who lifted an envelope from the desk. Out of the envelope, the commissioner brought a square piece of blue silk ribbon and handed it to The Shadow.

Upon the ribbon were two letters stamped in gold:

The Shadow examined the cryptic ribbon carefully but made no comment. Still leaning on the desk, Weston resumed his emphatic discourse.

“I have talked with Mr. Hungerfeld during the past ten minutes,” declared the commissioner, “and he believes, as I do, that this ribbon must be a key to certain wealth of Milton Callard’s. Fifty thousand dollars was a ridiculously small estate for Milton Callard to leave. His wealth has been estimated as millions, despite the fact that he was canny about his affairs.

“Since two others are mentioned, it seems apparent that there must have been three strips of ribbon involved. It is not fanciful to suppose that the other two recipients of letters containing ribbons were Luther Ralgood and James Shurrick.”

HUNGERFELD nodded as the commissioner paused. The Shadow spoke to the stooped man.

“You destroyed the letter?” he inquired, in the casual tone of Cranston.

“I did,” replied Hungerfeld.

“Was it in Milton Callard’s handwriting?”

“No. It was not.”

“Was it in Basslett’s handwriting?”

“I do not know.”

Commissioner Weston began to stare as he heard The Shadow’s third question. Despite Hungerfeld’s indefinite answer, the commissioner had seen a gleam of light.

“If Basslett knew these three names!” exclaimed Weston. “That would have explained how David Callard gained them. But Basslett was killed defending Ralgood; Basslett could not have been the betrayer of a trust.”

“If Basslett defended Ralgood, commissioner,” interposed The Shadow, quietly, “he would scarcely have allowed Ralgood to be shot three times in the back while he stood by with a fully loaded revolver.”

Weston gaped; then nodded.

“We may picture Basslett threatening Ralgood,” added The Shadow. “A struggle beginning between the two. Then the entry of the murderer, who delivered three bullets into Ralgood’s body.”

“But why did the murderer kill Basslett? His accomplice, by your mode of reasoning?”

“Because Basslett knew too much. He was the sole witness of a murder. His usefulness, moreover, had ended.”

Again Weston nodded. Cardona’s face showed agreement. The Shadow fingered the blue ribbon; then placed it back upon the table.

“Luther Ralgood had a ribbon,” announced the personage who passed as Lamont Cranston, “and the killer stole it. The next on the list was James Shurrick. He was slain; the killer guessed his locket contained his bit of ribbon. Two of three portions are in the hands of a criminal. Four letters of six have been gained by him. Letters that will form the key word to the finding of Milton Callard’s wealth.”

Again, The Shadow’s statement found agreement. To Weston, the summary was impressive. It fitted with Lamont Cranston’s former declaration that the murderer might have sought the contents of Shurrick’s locket; not the cameo ornament itself.

“The theft of the locket,” added The Shadow, “fits well with the chain of crime. It confused the issue; it produced a search for an article that was not required. The locket was something that the murderer could well have thrown away.

“What he actually kept was a ribbon. Had it been discovered on his person, it would not have been considered a belonging of James Shurrick’s. Bear that point in mind, commissioner. It leads us—”

THE SHADOW paused. Eyes had turned toward the door, where a fist was pounding from the other side. Cardona thrust one hand in his pocket; then opened the door. He admitted Roger Mallikan. The shipping man was flanked by two stocky plainclothes men, his bodyguards.

Weston beckoned Mallikan to the table while Cardona was closing the door. He passed the ribbon to Mallikan and started to make comment. Mallikan interrupted.

“Inspector Cardona told me about this,” he stated. “He mentioned the letters on the ribbon when he called my office. I have been thinking about it all the way here. He explained about the message, also. I can not understand it.

“I did not know Milton Callard. The letters R and X mean nothing to me. I see now that they must be part of a word. I suppose that would mean six letters altogether. Perhaps if I were shown the three ribbons at one time, as Milton Callard evidently intended, I might be able to form a word that I would recognize. But R and X alone — I must confess that I am stumped.”

“This is Justin Hungerfeld,” stated Weston, introducing Mallikan to Milton Callard’s friend. “Have you ever met him before? Have you ever heard of him?”

“I have not,” declared Mallikan. “Not until today. What was your business, Mr. Hungerfeld?”

“Copper mining,” replied the old man, with a cracked chuckle. “In the West.”

“Not in my line,” smiled Mallikan.

“Let us concentrate on the ribbon,” decided Weston. “It is important. Remember, gentlemen, these two letters are all that are needed to fill a word that may be of vital importance. David Callard has already gained four of the letters. He needs these only, to reap wealth from his murders. Come, Mallikan. Can’t you assist us?”

“I am afraid not,” replied the shipping man, with a shake of his square-jawed head. “Any guess would be as good as mine, commissioner. What is more, I have been under a tremendous nerve strain. I have felt, commissioner, that I should take a trip somewhere.”

“At this time. Mallikan? While we are searching for David Callard?”

“Only to Bermuda. I arranged passage there under another name. This very morning. I should like to sail this afternoon.”

“How soon does the boat leave?”

“In a few hours. I am packed; my luggage is waiting to go aboard. If your men, commissioner” — Mallikan indicated the detectives — “will accompany me to the pier, I shall not require them after that.”

WESTON pondered.

“Very well,” he decided. “Bermuda is not far away. If we trap young Callard, we can notify you, Mallikan, so that you can return promptly to identify him.”

“Agreed, commissioner. But about this ribbon” — Mallikan shook his head — “I can tell you nothing. I am not good at riddles; and this is certainly one. My opinion is that Milton Callard merely wanted a meeting place for his friends; that he chose my office because he knew that I am a fixture there.”

While this discussion was continuing, The Shadow had been making notations upon a slip of paper.

Although he had heard all that was said, he had concentrated also upon his task. He had marked letters; then had eliminated them. Finishing, he had folded the slip of paper and placed it in his pocket.

There was another rap at the door. Cardona opened it to admit a new pair of plainclothes men. These were the two who had been detailed to guard Courtney Dolver’s Long Island home.

“Where is Dolver?” queried Weston.

“He went up to the hunting lodge,” replied Cardona. “I told him to send in the two men. That’s outside of our jurisdiction. He can get deputies up there.”

“Those servants of his have gone with him,” explained one of the plainclothes men. “We convoyed them through. Nobody was tailing Dolver’s car.”

“Very good,” decided Weston. “Dolver will be well protected at his lodge. We do not need him in this matter. Of course, you mentioned the details to him, did you not, Cardona?”

“Yes,” replied the detective. “Over the telephone. I told him about the ribbon. I guess this R X business has got him scratching his head, too.”

“It may take a long while to decipher it,” commented Weston. “Our only course is to keep the ribbon in a safe place. To allow no one to learn of those important letters. We are at a disadvantage; we hold but two letters of the six. Our enemy holds four. Perhaps he has already learned the vital word.”

The Shadow had come to his feet while Weston was speaking. His disguised face was masklike as before; the gleam of his eyes showed, however, that he was rising to action. The long fingers of his right hand were dipped into the pocket of his vest, clipping the paper that he had folded and thrust there.

“This ribbon,” Weston was adding, as he held the tiny square of blue, “is valuable, yet meaningless by itself. Perhaps some cryptogram expert might guess the connection of its two letters. Possibly we may have to refer it to some competent lexicographer. But so long as it is guarded, there is no need for hurry in its translation. A few days will not matter.”

“I DISAGREE, commissioner.” The objection came from The Shadow. All eyes turned as ears heard the quiet emphasis of Lamont Cranston’s tones. “This riddle is not unsolvable. Nor is it wise to delay its translation.”

“What need is there for hurry?” retorted Weston. “If David Callard has already gained four of the letters, he may have guessed the other two. In that case, we are too late to stop him. Delay will not matter.

“If he has not guessed the missing letters, we hold him helpless. Therefore, we may play a waiting game. Your comments are valueless, Cranston. Delay is not an unwise procedure.”

“You have forgotten one point, commissioner,” returned The Shadow, calmly. “Mr. Mallikan is leaving for Bermuda within the next few hours. It would be advisable to have him present when the riddle of this ribbon is solved.”

“Why so?”

“Because he may be able to give us some information after we have gained the solution. That may be the reason why Milton Callard arranged for the meeting of his friends to be held in Mallikan’s office.”

Weston had risen from his chair and was standing away from the table. He looked toward Mallikan, who had stepped toward the door, accompanied by his two bodyguards. The shipping man shook his head.

“I am totally perplexed,” insisted Mallikan. “Those letters R X furnish me no food for thought. I do not see how I can be of aid.”

The Shadow seated himself in the chair behind the table. He drew his fingers from his vest pocket; they did not bring the folded bit of paper with them. Instead, The Shadow reached for the blue ribbon, which Weston had just replaced upon the table.

“Perhaps, Mr. Mallikan,” suggested The Shadow, in an easy tone, “you can bear with us for a short while longer. I shall assure you that it will be to your advantage, so far as your Bermuda trip is concerned.”

“But if I miss the boat,” exclaimed Mallikan, “I shall have to engage other passage—”

“You will not miss the boat. Fifteen minutes is all that I require. In that time, I may produce results that will make it unnecessary for you to testify further concerning David Callard. Which means, Mr. Mallikan, that you will not be summoned back from your Bermuda trip.”

“Very well,” consented Mallikan, his tone slightly-nervous. “I am willing to remain here for fifteen minutes. But I doubt, sir, that I shall be of any use.”

A FIXED smile showed on The Shadow’s thin lips. Weston, noting the face of Cranston, recalled that he had seen such an expression in the past. Joe Cardona, staring from the door, felt a sudden hunch that something was about to develop.

Cardona’s hunch was right. Indeed, The Shadow had already guessed the riddle of that tantalizing ribbon.

He had learned information which he had first intended to keep to himself; to investigate in his own way.

Like Weston, The Shadow had actually felt that delay did not matter.

Something, however, had changed The Shadow’s plan. Words had been spoken which had told him that speed was necessary. That was why The Shadow had insisted that Roger Mallikan stay. He had reason to believe that the shipping man could furnish facts at the proper time. The Shadow was determined to press the quest without delay.