Treasures of Death

CHAPTER XI FORCES FROM WITHOUT

ALONE in his office, Compton Salwood showed the nervousness that he felt. He strode quickly across the room and tried the front door of the office. He was satisfied to find it looked as he had expected. He paced back to the desk, seated himself and began to mop his bald brow with a handkerchief.

Salwood’s eyes were no longer turned toward the door through which The Shadow had gone. Hence the interior decorator did not see the motion of the door as The Shadow reopened it a crack. Keen eyes, peering through a narrow space, were watching Salwood as he sat alone.

The key to crime seemed within The Shadow’s grasp. The master of the night had picked Salwood as the underling of a superplotter. He had discovered a stolen object in Salwood’s desk. He had gained a list of robbed victims. He had read a cleverly coded message from Salwood’s chief.

If Salwood chose to keep the midnight appointment, all would be well. The Shadow would learn the final facts that he required. He would be in a position to force the climax of the drama. But there was something in Salwood’s manner that made The Shadow watch for a change. The unexpected lay in the offing.

But to The Shadow, the unexpected could be turned to advantage. That was why The Shadow lingered, watching. He was ready to use any break that might occur. Salwood began to unlock his desk drawers. He changed his mind and pulled a folded newspaper from his pocket.

The Shadow saw the man study an item in the journal. Salwood was reading the account of a supposed theft at the home of Wendel Hargate. He was comparing that brief item with the thoughts that were in his troubled mind.

He opened the top drawer of the desk, brought out the envelope that The Shadow had examined and began to read the message told by the postage stamps on the sheets within.

The Shadow realized Salwood’s thoughts as plainly as if the man had spoken them. Connecting the emergency message with the newspaper report, Salwood was debating possibilities. The game was up because of the event at Wendel Hargate’s.

Salwood arose and paced the office. He came back to the desk, studied the clipping and stood with troubled air. Then, with the attitude of a man who has made a great decision, he picked up the telephone and put in a call for detective headquarters.

THE SHADOW was watching closely. He could see the beads of perspiration that glistened on Salwood’s brow. The interior decorator was trembling as he listened at the telephone receiver. He was a man impressed by fear; one who was choosing what he regarded as the lesser of two tremendous evils.

“Detective Cardona?” Salwood’s voice was quavering. “Yes?… My name is Compton Salwood… I want to talk with you regarding the Hargate theft… Yes, the Villon manuscript…”

There was a pause; then Salwood gave his address. Evidently Cardona had requested him to come to headquarters. Salwood’s hands began to tremble. Finally, in a hollow, whimpering voice, he blurted forth frenzied words.

“You’ve got to come here!” he gasped. “No… No… My life is in danger… Yes, it is a tremendous case… I can tell you all, when I see you…”

The man’s voice broke. He began to protest at a quizzing that was coming over the wire.

“I feel that I am being watched!” he exclaimed. “I can’t talk now. I–I am summoned to a meeting at midnight… If I remain here after eleven, anything may strike… You don’t know the desperation that I feel… I want to confess, to tell all… Yes, come here at once — before I die!”

A brief pause; then, in a final begging tone, Salwood gasped a last request.

“Come through the back way,” he pleaded. “The little door — behind the shop. There is a bell there… Yes; ring it and I will open the door from my office… Every minute now is vital…”

Cardona was still talking over the wire when Salwood hung up the receiver. The man was trembling more than before. He licked his lips and stared about in every direction, as though he expected enemies to spring from each wall. Still, The Shadow watched and waited.

Salwood had lost his nerve. A crook who evidently feared the man who dominated him, he had decided to turn yellow rather than face what lay ahead.

The Shadow could see the reason. Salwood had been a pawn in the game that now was ended. He must be reasoning that since he was of no further use to his chief, he could expect nothing but danger or doom.

The Shadow had seen men of Salwood’s ilk before. The Shadow knew the ways of superminds of crime. He knew that Salwood’s fears might be well founded. Some one — a lurking crime master — was behind the game that had now been abandoned. That one must be merciless in method.

The unexpected had arrived; yet as it stood, The Shadow held a strong advantage. Joe Cardona would arrive to hear Compton Salwood’s story. The Shadow would hear it also. While Cardona was making plans, The Shadow would be acting. Once Salwood gave the game away, The Shadow would be swift to move.

MINUTES trickled by. Salwood was looking nervously at his watch. The Shadow remained in quietude. Eleven o’clock was rapidly approaching. It was the hour that Salwood feared.

The interior decorator was a rascal of ability; as such, he would not be subject to imaginary qualms. Hence The Shadow knew that the menace which Compton Salwood feared must be one which could stretch out and grip him here.

Salwood’s watch was on the desk. The man was pacing back and forth across the room; each time he neared the desk, he tightened his fists in nervous tension. The Shadow could see the dial of the watch. It had reached eleven.

A buzzer sounded. Compton Salwood started. Then his frame shook in sudden relief. It was the sound that he had awaited; coming at this tense moment, it had startled him. The man fairly staggered to the desk.

As the buzzer sounded again, he panted and placed his hand upon the woodwork. He was trying to regain his composure before he pressed the button that would admit the detective whom he had called here.

The Shadow, standing beyond the partly opened front door of the office, was completely shrouded in darkness. Only a tiny wedge of light showed above his head. All was gloom in the front of Salwood’s shop.

The entrance to the office was in a little alcove, hence the front of the shop was beyond The Shadow’s view. In fact, The Shadow stood in a little world of his own, from which he could view events in Salwood’s office as one would see through the lens of a microscope.

Salwood was about to press the button; then the way would be clear, for the rear door of the office had remained unlocked since Salwood had come in. A watcher in The Shadow’s situation would naturally have been keyed to a state of high intensity and therefore be neglectful to other events that might be happening.

Not so The Shadow. Ever alert, this being who dwelt in darkness was always expecting the unexpected. Even in this important moment, his keen ears were listening for sounds that would have been unheard by others.

Something caught The Shadow’s attention. Swiftly, silently, he glided away from the door of the office. Moving backward, he made a rapid turn the moment that he reached the outlet of the alcove.

A hiss came through the gloom. It was like a warning signal. At the same instant, the flood of a flashlight broke through the gloom. The Shadow, standing at the edge of the front shop, was staring squarely at the glare.

A cry burst from a man behind the light. Vague figures leaped forward simultaneously. Then, in a split second interval, came a mighty roar from the spot where The Shadow stood. Another cry sounded amid the echoes of the shot and the shattering sound of glass.

With calm precision, The Shadow had drawn an automatic. His shot had been the answer to the flashlight’s revealing beam. With perfect aim, The Shadow had shattered the torch that had caught him in its glare.

Amid the snarls of foemen whom The Shadow’s hand had balked, came the sinister sound of a surging, whispered mockery. The laugh of The Shadow was the answer to these men who had invaded Compton Salwood’s shop!