The Silent Death

CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE LABORATORY

Two men lay huddled at the side of Professor Urlich’s laboratory. Propped against the wall, their hands bound behind them, Cliff Marsland and Clyde Burke stared wearily at the scientist and the gang leader who stood beside him.

Both of The Shadow’s agents had taken hard bumps in their encounter with Larry Ricordo’s gorillas.

Clyde Burke, in particular, showed signs of genuine grogginess. Cliff had been overpowered by a swift attack; Clyde had gone down from a single sharp blow.

It was Clyde’s condition that gave Cliff Marsland a cue. Knowing that his companion was actually in a state of inertia, Cliff feigned the same condition. Thus both were able to avoid some of the questions that Larry Ricordo was pumping at them: questions which pertained to the activities of The Shadow.

Clyde Burke’s presence at the spot where Cliff Marsland had been taken was not merely coincidence.

The Shadow had foreseen the possibility of some one following Cliff when he left Red Mike’s. Through Rutledge Mann, Clyde had been instructed to remain in the vicinity of the place where Cliff put in his regular phone calls.

As a reporter who handled crime news, Clyde Burke made frequent excursions into the bad lands. His duty had been a simple one; failure had occurred partly through his own lack of vigilance and partly through a surprising display of stealth on the side of Ricordo’s mobsters.

Now was no time for regret. The present objective — Cliff was the one who saw it clearly — was to avoid all troublesome questions. Thus Larry Ricordo’s ugly threats and his imprecations, directed chiefly at Cliff, brought nothing more than indifference and evasion.

“So you’re The Shadow’s stool, eh?” queried Ricordo. “What about this other mug — your buddy who carries a reporter’s card. What was he doing when we grabbed you?”

Cliff Marsland half opened his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. No reply was the best way to deal with Ricordo’s questions. The gang leader spat a series of oaths, and swung to face Professor Urlich.

“See what you can get out of him!” growled Ricordo. “You wanted me to bring him here. Maybe you can make him squawk!”

“There is no need for haste,” returned the scientist, with a calm, evil smile. “As a matter of fact, Ricordo, questioning is hardly necessary.”

“Why not?”

“We may consider two assumptions,” remarked the professor, in tones that came coldly to Cliff Marsland’s ears. “One: that these men can give us no information of consequence. Two: that if either of them does know facts, they will give them voluntarily, under proper treatment.

“If they know nothing, they are useless. Therefore, it would be best to destroy them. If they know something, they will cry it forth as the only hope of life when they see the fate that is planned for them.”

Professor Urlich’s gleaming smile widened in wicked proportions.

HIS statements worried Cliff Marsland. The Shadow’s agent realized that he and his fellow prisoner were being classified as biological specimens suitable for some experiment. Cliff sensed a terrible menace ahead.

“Furthermore,” added Professor Urlich, “I am confident that there has been no failure in the plan which I devised for tonight. At this present minute, Thomas Jocelyn is probably dead; and The Shadow with him.

“In fact, I am so positive of my success that I see no reason why I should not destroy these trouble-makers without further delay. Nevertheless, I enjoy experimental killing. The time may come when I shall choose to make dying men talk. If I can produce such result with these victims, I shall add another page to my book of scientific research.”

“It’s up to you, professor,” grinned Ricordo. “You’re the guy that can do it.”

“Human life,” remarked the professor, staring toward Cliff Marsland as he spoke, “means nothing to me. I have equipped this laboratory for the purpose of experimenting with such life.

“When persons block my path, when the human element seems dangerous to my plans, removal is the one solution. You realized that” — Urlich had turned, and was speaking to Ricordo — “when I sacrificed Thomas Jocelyn. In my first important experiment, The Shadow intervened. After that, I twice led him on a blind trail. Tonight, however, I felt that the original course would be best.

“The Shadow leaned above Alfred Sartain that night in the penthouse studio. I am confident that he must have leaned above Thomas Jocelyn tonight. You know the answer, Ricordo. I was removing Jocelyn, because he had become dangerous. Jocelyn was breathing death. Thus I arranged for one victim to take another with him.”

“A great stunt, professor,” commented Ricordo. “I don’t see how The Shadow could have slipped out of it. Grewson had a soft job. Maybe you’ve got it all O.K. But how are you going to get rid of this pair of mugs we’ve got here?”

“Very simply,” said the professor. “Here in this laboratory. There will be no trace of death, Ricordo. No trace whatever.”

“Just one thing,” remarked Ricordo. “What are you going to do about the big plans, now that Jocelyn is finished?”

“I still deal silent death,” replied Urlich coldly. “It will be simple to gain the assistance of another financier. Leave that to me, Ricordo.”

“With The Shadow blotted out,” said the gang leader, “we can start right where we quit. There’s only one thing, professor — I’ll have to lay low for a while.”

“Yes? Why?”

“Well, the coppers have still got Slips Harbeck. He may squeal. That’s bad enough. But I made it lots worse tonight, going into Red Mike’s. I didn’t think there’d be such a big mob there. It’s all around by now that Larry Ricordo is back in town.”

“Ah!” Professor Urlich pondered long. “That is unfortunate, Ricordo. It will temporarily deprive me of your useful services. Perhaps it will mean a long period of inactivity.”

“It probably will, professor. I can hang out here—”

“That is hardly wise, since a matter of many weeks is involved. It would be better, Ricordo, for you to actually leave town.”

“The sooner the better, professor.”

“Yes?”

“Sure. The bulls may already be out to spot me. If I scram in a hurry, they’ll still keep looking, and they won’t find me.”

“Where would you go?”

“West. Chicago. Maybe Milwaukee.”

“Go upstairs to my office,” suggested Professor Urlich. “You will find a railway schedule there. It is not quite midnight. Find out if a train is still available tonight.”

LARRY RICORDO headed for the spiral stairway. Professor Urlich stood in deep thought. Cliff Marsland, watching him, saw a shrewd, wicked gleam appear upon the scientist’s face. Cliff wondered what thoughts were passing within that evil brain which evolved its schemes of death.

Larry Ricordo returned. He announced that a Limited was leaving at one o’clock. Professor Folcroft Urlich nodded.

“Take that train,” he said. “But be careful. Go by subway to the Grand Central Station. It would be best to enter the terminal by the Lexington Avenue side.”

“Don’t worry about me,” grinned Ricordo. “That’s just the way I will go in; and there’s no smart dicks going to spot me, even if they do have the word out to grab me.”

“We must always consider the element of uncertainty,” responded the scientist. “It would be unfortunate, Ricordo, should you fall into the hands of the police.”

“Listen, professor” — Ricordo’s tones were harsh — “I pack this gat. See it?” The gang leader produced a large revolver as he spoke. “While I’m on the subway, while I’m going into the station, while I’m on the train — all that time I’ll have my mitt on this smoke wagon. If any dumb bull tries to get me, I’ll give him the works.”

“And then—”

“I can duck out plenty quick. I’ve done it before. Don’t forget that.”

“But if you should be outnumbered — surrounded—”

“They’d never get me, professor. I’d shoot my way through them. Even if I did get plugged, I’d keep blazing. They’ll never take Larry Ricordo alive! That’s certain.”

There was a positive tone in the ganglord’s growl. Professor Folcroft Urlich smiled in a pleased manner.

“Excellent, Ricordo,” he said. “I feel sure, now, that your departure will be wise. Come. I shall accompany you downstairs. You have just the right amount of time to reach the Grand Central.”

Leaving Cliff Marsland and Clyde Burke still helpless upon the floor, Urlich went with Ricordo to the ground floor. Together, the two men circled the outer corridor. Ricordo had little thought of the death machine tonight. This zone of danger meant nothing when Professor Urlich trod it with him.

After Ricordo had departed, Professor Urlich returned to the laboratory. His first action was to glance at the row of lights that were placed above the spiral stairway.

Those lights indicated the three zones below: red for the outer portico; green for the inner corridor; white for the balcony about the pit that housed the grim machine of death.

Those lights corresponded with a similar row upon the machine itself. Connected by wires of low, harmless amperage, they served as signals. Here, in his laboratory, Professor Urlich could learn the approach of an intruder in time to reach the powerful electric device that lay below.

The lights were all out, at present; the absence of the red gleam showed that Larry Ricordo had departed from the portico where Professor Urlich had left him.

The scientist smiled. He emitted a low call. His two solemn-faced assistants, Sanoja and Rasch, appeared.

The scientist spoke to each man in turn. The assistants nodded and went to appointed tasks. Cliff watched them. He noticed that one kept his eyes upon the lights, while the other was keeping close tabs upon Cliff and Clyde.

Professor Urlich stalked across the floor of the laboratory. The room was illuminated only in spots, with darkness toward the back of the building. Professor Urlich, however, did not again continue toward the staircase that led downward. Instead, he ascended the spiral to the third floor.

The scientist entered the little office a few moments later. Seated at his desk, he became immersed in thought. His evil lips began to mutter words that were barely audible.

“The Shadow!” Urlich’s murmur was scornful. “Bah! He has been ended tonight — unless” — the scientist’s shoulders shrugged — “unless— But what of it? I do not fear him. Let him come — he is only one. But the police — they are many—”

A pause; then Urlich muttered two names, repeating the second one several times:

“Jocelyn — Ricordo — Ricordo — Ricordo—”

FIENDISHLY, the scientist smiled. His evil brain was reverting to the past, to his statements regarding the uselessness of those who blocked his path. He was considering Larry Ricordo as he had considered Thomas Jocelyn.

Men of different caliber; yet men who both were pieces in the game that Professor Urlich played. He had chosen both of them by a process of selection. He had considered a suitable replacement for each, should occasion demand it.

Professor Urlich was thinking of his own strength; the security which he possessed in this isolated building. Little of his work was known to the world. If it were, what could matter? Urlich was a scientist; his laboratory was filled with the beginnings of useful inventions and beneficial experiments — blinds that would surely cover all devices of death.

Thomas Jocelyn had become a menace, for Jocelyn, his usefulness ended, had known too much. Jocelyn had been eliminated, serving as a snare of silent death for The Shadow.

Larry Ricordo remained. He, too, was a menace to security, for his usefulness had ended, and he knew far more than Jocelyn had known.

Professor Urlich had brought Ricordo here only because necessity had compelled it. He had sent the gang leader away because that had been the only alternative.

But in his shrewd brain — at the time when Cliff Marsland had noted the scientist’s expression of evil — Folcroft Urlich had considered another course.

Those questions to Larry Ricordo had been well designed. The gang lord’s replies had sponsored Urlich’s new decision. The scientist picked up the telephone upon his table. He smiled as he realized that a call from this blind line would be untraceable.

A few minutes later, a voice sounded through the receiver. Professor Folcroft Urlich smiled. He responded, in a low, steady tone.

“Hello,” he said. “Detective headquarters?… Very well. I wish to speak with Detective Cardona—”