The Unseen Killer

CHAPTER X. THE LAW AND THE SHADOW

ONE hour later. Commissioner Wainwright Barth was standing in the downstairs parlor of Nathaniel Hildon’s quaint home. Present was his friend Lamont Cranston, who had come with him from the Cobalt Club. Also present were Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan. In addition, Detective Joe Cardona.

The sleuth was glum. He had occasion to be, for Barth was reprimanding him, despite the presence of these witnesses. The commissioner had completed a survey of the dead man’s bedroom. He had agreed that the Unseen Killer was again responsible for murder. That was why Barth was finding fault with Cardona.

“You should have profited by experience,” chided the commissioner. “You were there, in the room. You had patrolmen at the door. Then you ordered them to conduct every one else downstairs. You were temporarily alone; worse than that, you left the door unguarded.

“Remember, Cardona, we are dealing with a physical being. Miles Crofton may be devisualized; but he is not dematerialized. If he slew Nathaniel Hildon — as seems obvious — he must have remained within that room.

“Your one chance was to hold him. To cleverly keep the doorway bolted. Instead, you opened the path. Like you unwittingly did at Lessep’s. Our quarry has eluded us. Stupidity, Cardona. Stupidity.”

“I admit it,” growled Joe. “When I saw the room empty, I took it for granted the guy was gone. The way he worked before — well, it was like he became air. It seemed the same here. It kind of knocked me, commissioner, when I saw those bolted windows.”

“Well, the mistake has been made,” acknowledged Barth. “The evidence, every bit of it, points to the Unseen Killer. Nathaniel Hildon has lived in this house for three years. We have absolute testimony from these two gentlemen” — he indicated Amboy and Norgan — “that nothing unusual has occurred about this place. The cook says the same; also the butler, whom you called in from Brooklyn.

“Walls — floors — ceiling — those could have been the only other modes of exit. They were solid. We are back again to the doors and the windows. All bolted. Any ordinary murderer would have been forced to leave door or window open.

“You can’t close a bolt through solid woodwork. You can’t push an arm through a window pane without breaking it. My verdict is the Unseen Killer. But this time he sent no warning.”

The commissioner paused. He stared through his spectacles, looking first at Cardona, who nodded; then at Cranston, whose expression remained unchanged. During the momentary lull, Amboy whispered to Norgan, who nodded nervously.

Commissioner Bart had caught the whisper. He stared inquiringly. Norgan coughed and mopped his forehead. Then, in a rather strained tone, he spoke.

“NATHANIEL HILDON did receive a warning,” he declared. “We intended to speak of it, Mr. Amboy and I, but we thought it best to wait until you had completed your inspection. You see, we—”

“A warning?” snapped Barth, querulously. “A warning — to Hildon? What kind of a warning?”

“A typewritten message—”

“From whom?”

“The Unseen Killer.”

Barth stood dumfounded. Then his eyes sparkled. Triumphantly, the commissioner looked toward Lamont Cranston. Then he asked, sharply:

“What became of that message?”

“I didn’t see anything of it,” put in Cardona. “I searched the room. If Hildon had it, the murderer could have lifted it.”

“That is what he must have done,” declared Norgan.

“How do you know?” demanded Barth. “Did you see the message, Norgan?”

“Yes,” nodded the square-jawed man. “I saw it at noon to-day, when we had lunch with Hildon. So did Amboy.”

A nod from Amboy corroborated this statement.

“Explain in full,” ordered Barth.

“To begin with,” stated Norgan, still a bit nervous, “I must mention that Hildon was — to an extent — associated with Amboy and myself in certain business enterprises. The three of us are erroneously reported to have made a fortune at the expense of the Centralized Power Corporation.”

“I have heard of that report,” returned Barth. “You do not need to go into details regarding your enterprise. Proceed with the matter of the note.”

“To-day,” resumed Norgan, “each of us received a threatening message. All the notes were exactly alike. We met at luncheon and discussed them.”

“You have such a message?”

“Yes. From the Unseen Killer.”

“Where is it?”

“Here.” Norgan produced a folded sheet of paper. Amboy did likewise. They passed the missives to Barth. The commissioner handed one to Cardona; then opened his and read aloud, while Cardona, nodding, acknowledged the identical wording.

Each message read as follows:

“Well?” questioned Barth, sharply. “Why did you not inform the police of these threats? You have witnessed the result. Hildon is dead—”

“We thought the notes a trick,” put in Amboy. “Some game, worked by enemies who have been trying to force us into admission of profits that we have not made.”

“Or a blackmailer’s scheme,” added Norgan. “Possibly the work of a crank — any one who might have read the newspaper accounts of the unseen murderer who slew Professor Lessep.”

“So you decided to do nothing about it?” quizzed the commissioner.

“Exactly,” admitted Norgan. “The three of us met, compared the messages that we had received and agreed to make this crank show his hand. We wanted no notoriety. We felt that we were safe.

“I went to my home on Long Island; Amboy to his apartment. Hildon came here. Then, about eight o’clock in the evening, I began to worry. About Hildon. I felt that his position would be the least secure. This district is secluded.”

“That is why you telephoned him?”

“Yes. At eight o’clock. No answer. I telephoned again. Still no response. I decided that servants must certainly be here, even if Hildon had gone out. So I drove in town and picked up Amboy. You know the rest, commissioner.”

BARTH paced for a few moments. Then he paused to eye the two threatened men. Amboy and Norgan looked solemn. Barth adjusted his pince-nez.

“I predict,” he said, wisely, “that you will receive new messages tomorrow morning. This Unseen Killer — Miles Crofton — possesses powers that are almost unlimited. We must draw him out.

“Notify me if you receive new threats. Then we will give him the statement that he wants. In the meantime, I shall place officers on guard at your respective homes.

“It seems obvious, after reading those threats, that the Unseen Killer did not want you to learn of Hildon’s death until the morning. That is why he muffled the telephone bell. His entire purpose is now explained.

“Despite the fact that you gentlemen have sought to shun publicity” — Barth paused dryly — “your names have appeared in print. Only yesterday, the newspapers carried an account of your proposed lawsuit against the Centralized Power Corporation.

“It is generally acknowledged that you gained profits through your transactions, even though the amounts may be exaggerated. By merely reading the newspapers, the Unseen Killer could have picked upon you two — with Hildon — as a trio of wealthy men.”

Amboy and Norgan stood silent. Having summed the case as he saw it, Wainwright Barth made prompt arrangements. He detailed officers to accompany both men to their homes. He saw Amboy and Norgan leave. Then, accompanied by Lamont Cranston, Barth went upstairs for a final examination of the room wherein Nathaniel Hildon had died. After that, Barth departed with Cranston.

A CLOCK chimed four. It was the same clock that Norgan and Amboy had heard, hours before.

Solemn strokes above the gloom that pervaded that isolated thoroughfare called Culberly Court.

Patrolmen heard it as they paced in front of the silent, almost ghostly houses that stood as relics of the past. The sound drifted to the alleyway at the rear of the old-fashioned homes. There, another patrolling officer caught the notes.

Blackness persisted from the shrouding trees of a parklike square across the way. Then came motion; inkiness detached itself from the gloom. A blot moved along the sidewalk, just within the area of a street lamp’s light.

A hazy form glided across the thoroughfare. It moved past the house where the green glass glowed above the front door. The strange shape entered the obscurity of the side areaway between Hildon’s home and the empty house that adjoined it.

Projecting ornamental bricks offered a hold for hands and feet. Eerily, a phantom figure scaled the wall close by a little alcove. Then the moving shape stilled. Batlike, it clung to the vertical surface.

A policeman was coming through the areaway. His flashlight flickered. Its beam reached the wall; but not quite high enough to reveal that form. The light went on. The Shadow, motionless as night itself, remained undiscovered.

The weird form resumed its brief ascent. The Shadow edged sidewise past the corner of the alcove. He gained the roof above a small inset porch at the side of the house. Prone upon the slanting surface, he reached the window.

The Shadow was looking into Hildon’s second-floor room. A hall light’s rays filtered past the broken door. The dull illumination showed the death chamber. Furnishings were hazily outlined before The Shadow’s gaze.

The Shadow, guised as Lamont Cranston, had viewed that room before. He had walked about within its walls with Police Commissioner Wainwright Barth. Together, they had gone over the ground covered by Detective Joe Cardona.

But now The Shadow was viewing the room from a new angle. He was outside, looking in, perched comfortably in a perfect hiding place beneath. The extended house wall hid him from the street in front. The porch roof kept him concealed from eyes below.

Darkness prevented a prying view from the alleyway at the back of the house. The next building — its windows boarded — could not have been an observation post. This little roof was the strategic spot from which to enter or to look into Nathaniel Hildon’s bedroom. Any prowler could have chosen it as a vantage point.

Yet what had it to do with the murder of Nathaniel Hildon? Nothing, so far as Cardona and Barth had seen. A window, panes unbroken, fastenings intact within, could not have aided a visible killer to make his escape. As for the Unseen Killer — to him the window was unnecessary.

A square window, measuring four feet in either direction. A stout vertical post from bottom to top.

Gloved hands issued from the darkness; one pressed against each pane, while The Shadow’s head, tilting a trifle to the right, took a position from which keen eyes could study all that lay within the room.

Hands dropped from the solid set panes. Edging backward, The Shadow produced his tiny flashlight.

Blinking guardedly, the beam ran up around the window, down the center division, then to the porch itself. There, The Shadow’s left hand moved idly. Fingers traced streaks in the grime of the roof. They crumpled a bit of dried, claylike substance. The light went out.

A patrolman passed by the side of the house. His footfalls clicked through the alleyway.

The Shadow’s light blinked intermittently, close to the roof. Then it went out finally. The black-cloaked form edged from the roof and descended easily by the ladderlike bricks that lined the wall.

An officer on the front street failed to see the gliding form that issued from the alleyway. The Shadow crossed to the square. He merged with the blackness of the trees. His course was untraceable as he moved away from Culberly Court. It was not until he had gained a spot two blocks away that he gave another manifestation of his presence.

Then, gliding silently past the front of unpretentious houses, The Shadow laughed. A ghostly chuckle in the darkness; a touch of suppressed mirth that was grim. Turning to a sinister whisper, the laugh throbbed and faded.

Though his agents in the underworld still pursued a hopeless quest for missing men, The Shadow, himself, was making progress. He had learned facts about the Unseen Killer. He could wait until the morrow.

For Commissioner Barth was determined to bait the Unseen Killer. That course was to The Shadow’s liking. Wealth was the criminal’s aim. To obtain it, he would have to act.

Action by the Unseen Killer would bring him within The Shadow’s range.