The Shadow Laughs

CHAPTER VII LAMONT CRANSTON TALKS TO HIMSELF

Four o’clock in the morning.

That was the time indicated by the luminous dial of the wrist watch, as Lamont Cranston studied it in the darkness.

He had awakened suddenly, and he could not account for it. Usually a sound sleeper, he had been strangely aroused from a fantastic dream. The room was pitch-dark.

Slumber seemed gone from the millionaire’s mind. He listened intently. He fancied that he had heard a soft, whispering voice calling his name. Yet it must have been a dream.

Then his muscles tightened.

“Lamont Cranston!”

The summons came in an almost inaudible tone from the foot of the bed. It was a whisper — a strange, incredible whisper.

This was no dream. It was reality.

The millionaire slipped his right hand under his pillow, and grasped his automatic. Quietly, he pointed it toward the foot of the bed. Then he pushed his body upward; and with his free hand, he pulled the cord of the reading lamp.

A figure was standing at the foot of the bed. A black figure, that seemed like a huge shadow.

Cranston’s eyes made out a form clad in black, its face hidden by a hat with a turned-down brim. The millionaire covered the figure with his revolver. Then he spoke, hoarsely.

“Who are you? Raise your hands — or I shall fire.”

A soft, low laugh came from the foot of the bed.

“Press the trigger,” came the whispered voice.

The millionaire obeyed. A click answered. The gun had been loaded when he had placed it beneath his pillow. Now it was empty.

“Do not be alarmed,” came the whispered voice. Its tone was sinister, despite its assurance. “You need not fear. I shall not harm you. I unloaded your automatic. I thought you might become excited.”

“Who are you?” demanded Lamont Cranston.

The figure ignored his question.

“I have come to advise you,” came the whisper. “You must leave here for a while. For a month at least. I recommend a trip to Europe. Sea air is very healthy at this season. You will go tomorrow.”

“Who are you?”

Again the question was ignored.

“Will you obey my orders?” asked the voice from the foot of the bed.

“No!” exclaimed the millionaire.

The figure laughed mirthlessly, and Lamont Cranston shuddered. His eyes gazed in fascination as the man in black moved from his position, and came to the side of the bed, until he stood but a few feet away.

The millionaire changed his position, in readiness for an attack.

“You ask me who I am,” said the strange being. “Tell me first who you are.”

“You know my name,” replied the millionaire. “You called it — Lamont Cranston.”

A mocking laugh was the response.

“I called your name?” was the figure’s question. “I must disagree with you. I called my own name.”

The black form moved slightly. The cloak and hat dropped backward, and disappeared. A man was revealed in the light, and a startled cry escaped Lamont Cranston’s lips.

The person who stood before him was the very double of himself.

“I am Lamont Cranston,” announced the stranger.

The millionaire shuddered as he heard his own voice uttered by those lips!

The situation was uncanny. The man in the bed could not believe his senses. He knew that he was wide awake; yet this was the most incredible experience that the human mind could imagine.

“Let me explain,” said the standing man, in those same tones that seemed the actual voice of the millionaire. “Some people call me The Shadow.

“That is but one identity. I have other personalities that I assume, as easily as I don my black cloak and hat.

“One of my personalities is that of Lamont Cranston. In the past, I have used it while you were away. At present, I choose to use it now. It would be embarrassing for both of us to be here. So you must go.”

Sudden enlightenment came to the amazed millionaire.

“So that is why Richards acted so strangely!” he exclaimed. “You have deceived him while I was away! You were here, masquerading as myself. You were injured.”

“That is correct,” replied the personage who so perfectly resembled Lamont Cranston. “I told Richards never to mention the incident. I am surprised that he slipped. He is usually so very careful.”

The real Lamont Cranston became suddenly indignant. His fear had dwindled since his visitor had ceased that weird whisper. Now he was becoming angry.

“You are an impostor,” he exclaimed.

“You think so?”

“I know it.”

“That does not alter the circumstances,” said The Shadow. “There are reasons why I choose to be here — as Lamont Cranston.

“There is an excellent wireless station upstairs. You installed it — for which I thank you — but you have neglected it. I find it useful in experiments.”

Lamont Cranston was too amazed to reply. The calm assurance of his mysterious visitor completely bewildered him.

“So you must leave tomorrow,” announced The Shadow. “Go before noon. Tell no one of your plans. Leave no address. Say nothing about my visit. It would not be wise for you to mention it.”

“You threaten me?” demanded the millionaire. “You have chosen the wrong person. I shall tell you my plans. I shall remain here. I shall denounce you as an impostor.”

The Shadow smiled, in perfect imitation of the millionaire. From his pocket he drew a small pad, and pencil. He wrote upon the paper, and turned it toward Lamont Cranston.

“My signature!” gasped the millionaire.

“Yes,” was the reply, “and that is not all. You have been very lax in handling the affairs of Lamont Cranston.

“There are many matters which you have forgotten. There are many securities, in safe-deposit vaults. You do not know the exact amounts. I do.

“You have some knowledge of Lamont Cranston’s family history. I doubt that you could recall the maiden names of both his grandmothers. I know them.

“Stay if you wish. Try to denounce me. But remember that I have established the personality of Lamont Cranston. Assuming that you are Lamont Cranston, I know more about you than you know about yourself!

“So use your own judgment. But I warn you in advance. If you are here when I come tomorrow, there will be but one result.

“You will be arrested as the impersonator of Lamont Cranston. I shall be the injured party. It will mean an inconvenience for me; but it will mean real difficulties for you.”

The millionaire smiled grimly. He was not yet ready to accept the dictates of this bold visitor.

“Before I last went away,” said Cranston, “I wrote a letter to a friend of mine, mentioning some very personal matters. There is one man who will know that I am really Lamont Cranston.”

The false Lamont Cranston reproduced the smile.

“I know the contents of that letter,” he said quietly. “It was mailed to Cleveland. Moreover, there was a reply to the letter. I received the reply. I wrote a second letter, answering some questions that were asked.

“Produce your friend from Cleveland. He will choose the real Lamont Cranston; and I shall be his choice.”

The man in the bed rubbed his forehead in perplexity. Then he looked at his visitor, and laughed. The humor of the situation began to appeal to him.

“Well,” he said, “a trip to Europe might not be so bad. I usually spend too much time making my own plans. It is rather pleasing to have some one do the work for me. But there is the matter of reservations—”

“That has all been arranged,” replied The Shadow. “You sail tomorrow afternoon on the Aquatic. I anticipated this a few days ago, and made all preparations.

“Your name is not published in the passenger list. So remember my warning. Say nothing to reveal your identity until you are on the ocean.”

The millionaire laughed. Then he extended his hand.

“I suppose the check was signed by Lamont Cranston,” he said. “That would be the final touch.”

“It was.”

“Well, it sounds sporty. This is a new experience for me. You have convinced me that there is no use in opposing you.

“I don’t know your purpose, or what you intend to do; but I wish you the best of luck.”

The eyes of The Shadow were piercing as they studied the face of the millionaire. They seemed to read Lamont Cranston’s thoughts; to learn that he spoke the truth, and would play his part in this unexpected game.

The Shadow grasped the millionaire’s hand. Then he stooped, and lifted his cloak and hat. The garments enveloped his form; his features of Lamont Cranston’s double were obscured.

“Remember!” came the whispered voice.

The millionaire watched the figure as it moved noiselessly toward the side of the room. It disappeared in the darkness by the window.

Then The Shadow was gone, into the night, without a single sound of his departure.

Lamont Cranston laughed nervously. A great tension had left him; but that last whispered warning seemed to live in his brain. He turned out the light, and went to sleep.

In his dreams he seemed to see a tall black figure, that whispered the single significant word:

“Remember!”