Treasures of Death

CHAPTER XXIII TRAPPERS TRAPPED

THE tables were turned on Wendel Hargate. The man who had launched the attack into Eli Galban’s domain was in the power of his enemy. Thibbel, Hargate’s fighting henchman, had died. With Hargate was an assorted trio of victims who were sharing in his fall.

Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow; Joe Cardona, representative of the law — these were two whose presence here had not been of Hargate’s making. Terry Barliss, however, had come with the captured millionaire. To Harry Vincent, Terry’s presence was something that seemed unexplainable.

Eli Galban was chuckling. His face wore its deceptive touch of friendliness; yet the chuckle betrayed a subtle form of latent evil. With an imperious gesture of his hand, Galban gave orders to his minions. They seemed to understand.

While Sanyata closed the door to the cellar, Fawkes, with a venomous snarl, ordered the prisoners to cluster to the stairway. Sanyata returned and drew a revolver. Together, these henchmen of Eli Galban marched their victims upward.

Hargate and Terry went first, with hands raised. After them came Harry Vincent and Joe Cardona. A silent group, these men were being herded toward Galban’s lonely third-story abode. The threats of guns behind them kept them in order. They tramped past closed doors on the second floor; then up the final flight to the third, where an opened space in the wall admitted them to Eli Galban’s room.

The old man was already there. He had come up in the elevator with Mercher. The secretary, still careful of his wound, was slumped in a chair. Galban ordered Fawkes to line the prisoners against the wall.

The cheery room seemed gloomy now. The shuttered windows had been barred. Sanyata closed the portal through which the group had come. The doorway formed part of what appeared to be a solid wall.

DROPPING into his accustomed chair, Eli Galban surveyed the men whom he had captured. Keenly, he decided that Joe Cardona must be the detective working on the case of Compton Salwood. With a hearty chuckle, Galban began to speak.

“I have been looking forward to this visit,” he laughed. “To this time when I could have my desired guests together. It will enable me to dispose of trouble-making blunderers at one time.”

The old man paused to meet the sullen gaze of Wendel Hargate. The millionaire’s discomfort seemed to please Eli Galban.

“Even now,” chuckled the old man, “all of you do not understand. Since none of you will ever trouble me again, it will please me to explain the facts that you have sought. It was considerate of me to allow you to come up by the stairway in this house. It enabled you to view locked doors that hide the secrets that I have so closely guarded.

“One door conceals my press; another my bindery. A third hides the studio. A fourth, my storage room. I am a man of many parts — with capable assistants. Sanyata is a clever copyist of manuscripts; Mercher is an excellent imitator of old printing. Both are skilled at binding.

“Here in this house, I forged the spurious works which were substituted for rare books and manuscripts. Compton Salwood was my outside man. He went to appointed places and left false objects for the genuine ones that I desired. As a detector of forged prints and manuscripts, I had access to many libraries and studies of wealthy men. I was the brains behind the efforts of Compton Salwood.”

Old Galban smiled as he stared at Joe Cardona. He could see the question on the detective’s lips. Galban chuckled as he answered it.

“When Salwood was of no more use to me,” declared the old man, “I ordained his death. I sent Sanyata to make sure that Salwood would come here. When Salwood did not start out as soon as expected, Sanyata rang for him. Sanyata was admitted. He killed Salwood.”

Galban glanced approvingly at the Japanese. Sanyata smiled, the first time that he had shown such an expression. His teeth gleamed.

“I killed him with the knife,” stated the servant.

Joe Cardona stared in amazement. This was an unexpected revelation. Joe turned toward Wendel Hargate. The millionaire smiled grimly, even though he knew the end that threatened him.

“Neither of us is due to get out of this, Cardona,” growled the millionaire. “Just the same, since Galban has sprung his part of the game, I may as well let you in on my side of the story.”

“An excellent idea,” approved Eli Galban.

“I GUESS you thought I was pulling something,” asserted Hargate, as he faced Cardona. “I was — in a sense. I never told you who sold me that Villon manuscript. I’ll tell you now. Compton Salwood was the man who sold it to me.

“I had an idea that it had been stolen. Nevertheless, it was mine after I paid for it. But I was keeping it under cover. That’s why I didn’t want you to take a look at it. But when I brought out the manuscript, I found that I was as badly off as Terry Barliss. I had a fake — just like his.

“That’s why I shut up like a clam. I knew who had stolen it from me. Compton Salwood was a double-crosser. He stole the manuscript after he had sold it to me.”

“At my order,” laughed Galban.

“My only plan was to go after Salwood,” resumed Hargate, paying no attention to Galban’s comment. “I sent Thibbel on the job. He made the mistake of taking Sooky Downing and a mob. They got into trouble. Thibbel was the only one to get away.

“When you uncovered wholesale thefts, I realized that some one bigger than Salwood had engineered the game. I decided it must be Galban. So I planned to break into this place and get back the manuscript that belonged to me.

“Terry Barliss broke in on me in the meantime. I had a battle with him; after he was curbed, I told him the whole story. I told him what I intended to do; when he knew that Galban was the real crook, he decided to work along with me. That’s why we’re here tonight. We sent Thibbel in ahead. He ran into trouble.”

“I killed him,” interposed Galban, with a chortle. “For a poor old cripple with rheumatism, I can wield a powerful war club.”

Harry Vincent understood all now. Terry Barliss met his gaze and nodded. But to Harry came still greater realization. He saw the part that The Shadow had intended to play. He had sent Harry to watch Galban’s not to protect the old fiend but to aid those who were coming to attack him!

“Enough!” exclaimed Galban, rising to his feet. “I knew you would be coming here, Hargate. Your position made it impossible for you to call in the police. I gave your name to Barliss so that he would go to see you. The game was up so far as Salwood was concerned.

“I feared none of the victims. But I had swindled you and I saw trouble there. I wanted you to try to get me after Salwood was out of the way. I was ready for you. This is the result.”

THE old man was glowering fiercely. For the first time, he had dropped his mask. He was a fiend, whose glaring eyes were more hideous than those of Corry Fawkes. His face was more loathsome than that of his monstrous servant.

“You have come here to die!” announced Eli Galban. “Death will be swift — within this room. The place is fitted with openings to admit a flow of lethal gas. We shall leave you here to die.

“After that” — Galban’s chuckle was an ugly one — “there will be embalmed bodies with my collection of waxwork figures. You, Cardona, will be in the uniform of a police chief. You, Hargate, will represent King Midas. As for Barliss and Vincent” — Galban shrugged his scrawny shoulders — “I can decide upon them later.”

Striding to the center of the room, Galban motioned to Fawkes and Sanyata. Both backed toward the door of the elevator. Sanyata, like Fawkes, was brandishing a huge revolver. There was no chance for the prisoners to make an escape.

“Sanyata killed Salwood,” announced Galban. “Fawkes has handled his victims in the past. I slew Thibbel. Therefore, I shall use a new executioner. Let me introduce him. Until now, he has been a very quiet member of my band. Tonight, he will release the gas that will cause four deaths.”

Galban beckoned to Lycurgus Mercher. The secretary arose and came cringing forward. He grinned in whimsical fashion.

“Look them over, Mercher,” suggested Galban. “Study them well; this is the last time they will be seen alive. Then we can descend in the elevator. From the ground floor, it will be your part to draw the release that will mean their doom!”

With a final chuckle, Eli Galban retired toward the closed door of the elevator, to await his secretary’s evil inspection of the four who were to die.