Part 8 (1/2)
Those who were down by the highway began creeping up along Stony Run. All in all, it became a surrounding process.
The laugh was too unreal to be a challenge from Creswold, the man both factions sought. It gave an uneasy feeling to the members of the rival bands. They still stood for Bigby and Brett as individuals, even though the present cause was a common one. Some of the farmers found an excellent excuse for their fears. They began to sidle over to Brett's mansion. There, they could later claim they had taken up watchful duty in Bigby's interest. Similarly there were mill hands who felt it a good idea to cover Bigby's house in Brett's behalf.
These, however, were exceptions rather than the rule. Most of the men within earshot decided to approach Pow-wow Boulder and learn what was happening there.
Meanwhile, The Shadow was anything but idle. From the boulder top, he was gripping a limb of an overhanging tree. He was twisting the big branch from the trunk. When it refused to break entirely, The Shadow settled the matter with some well-placed shots from a .45. He followed the volley with a repet.i.tion of his challenging laugh.
The effect on the hearers was twofold.
As the sound of shots halted them, the laugh almost caused a stampede. The men had connected the two events. They reasoned that the author of the laugh was more human than ghostly, or he wouldn't beindulging in gunfire. The circle began to compress more rapidly.
The Shadow was working rapidly, too.
At the risk of losing his balance, he poised on the tip of Pow-wow Boulder. As the rock leaned in its top-heavy style, he thrust the broken end of the stout branch down toward the sand to serve as a wedge.
To let the branch settle itself, The Shadow twisted and leaped to the bank below. Wheeling out from among the trees, he became briefly visible in the rising moonlight.
Shots throated from shot-guns and revolvers, as the phantom figure whisked from sight. In departing, The Shadow gave an answering jab from an automatic and made a trip across the stepping stones. From the opposite bank, he applied the same process for the benefit of those who were on that side. Then swiftly, The Shadow reached the sandy patch in the middle of the tumbling stream, just above the boulder.
The huge stone hadn't quite settled. Clamping the long end of the bough, The Shadow used it as a lever to give the boulder another prod. Up went the mammoth landmark to pose with a slanted gap beneath it.
Down among jagged rocks that formed a bed, The Shadow saw an irregular crevice. It was deep enough to receive a human form. With a long, sliding glide, he entered the s.p.a.ce feet first.
Obligingly, Pow-wow Boulder seemed to restrain itself. The real reason was that The Shadow's action was timed more swiftly than the rock could begin to settle into s.p.a.ce. He was gone, like a clump of dissolving blackness. Pow-wow Boulder rocked back to normal with a thwack that snapped the heavy bough. The short end of the improvised lever came tumbling after The Shadow. The rest was catapulted into Stony Run, which promptly carried the evidence down around the boulder.
No water entered with The Shadow. He had raised only the sand-buried portion of the boulder. When flashlights focussed on that tongue of sand, there wasn't a trace of the cloaked figure that had been there a dozen seconds earlier. Shouting to each other, cl.u.s.tering men began to scour the banks of the cascading stream.
Working down into the burrow beneath the boulder, The Shadow found the crevice half-obstructed.
Kicking a stone loose, he heard it clatter a short way below. So The Shadow squeezed downward and followed. He landed in a cavernous pit. The Shadow gave a whispered laugh that was echoed from surrounding walls. The tone itself enabled him to estimate the s.p.a.ce as at least twenty feet across.
With those echoes, The Shadow's flashlight blinked into a sweep. It finally focussed upon a figure that sat bound and gagged upon a wooden platform mounted on large legs. The platform itself was eight feet square. Its purpose was to protect its contents, human and otherwise, from trickling water that filtered down through the rock and formed a pool upon the floor.
Along with the human occupant, the visible objects on the platform included a metal strong-box and a wooden crate, neither of them large. Sweeping the flashlight about the place again, The Shadow noted alcoves on each side. These were to be expected. The cave was of limestone formation, a common thing in this quarry country.
Making short work of the bonds and gag, The Shadow let the prisoner stretch himself. Meanwhile The Shadow lighted a lantern that was on the platform and hung it on a hook that jutted from the wall above.
Turning to the man again, The Shadow studied the scared face of Herbert Creswold. His fear was by no means relaxed in the presence of this sinister rescuer.
In fact, Creswold's worry increased when The Shadow opened the strong box and brought out items in due order. First came an envelope containing Lenstrom's fifty thousand dollars. It was all in crisp bills ofhigh denominations. Next were Brett's packets of pay-roll and bonus money. It was equally crisp, but bulkier, to a total of sixty thousand. Finally, The Shadow saw the major contents of the box. As yet uncounted, it was the ma.s.s of small denomination bills in old money that Bigby had collected from the farmers.
”I didn't steal it!” gasped Creswold. ”It was Bigby who brought me here--after I drove up to his house. I thought he'd listen--because he tried to protect me from Brett--down in the theater. Bigby was safer than Brett, because he hadn't accused me of stealing anything.”
The Shadow gave a gesture to the ma.s.s of old money that lay packed in the strong-box. Creswold shook his head.
”I wasn't responsible,” he insisted. ”Bigby brought that box when he returned. Only the other funds were here first.”
The Shadow looked toward the wooden crate and gave a warning gesture.
”Don't touch it!” exclaimed Creswold. ”It's full of explosives and incendiary bombs. Bigby is behind all this, don't you understand?”
The Shadow's laugh toned low. His query came as a commanding whisper: ”You mean that Bigby set those fires--”
”Of course,” nodded Creswold. ”He was double-crossing the farmers and trying to blame it on Brett.
Only somehow it didn't work as well as he wanted. So I became the fall-guy. Bigby didn't lose any money in the insurance company, except what he paid in a.s.sessments. Then he brought all that back as part of the money he stole.
”He even bragged how he drove into town in my car”--Creswold was leaning forward, earnestly--”and staged the robbery while masked, so people would blame it on me. If I'd only trusted Brett instead of Bigby!”
Moaning, Creswold buried his head us in his hands, as though he doubted that even The Shadow would believe his innocence. Somehow Creswold didn't realize that the evidence surrounding him was more potent than words. If Creswold wanted corroboration for his story, he didn't have long to wait.
Fortunately The Shadow recognized that point before Creswold did.
Only the keen ears of The Shadow could have detected the sound that was no louder than Creswold's moan. With a sweep, the cloaked form wheeled away from the light. The Shadow spun toward the side of the platform where a box of explosives rested. It was then that Creswold heard the footfalls. He looked up, as Bigby stepped suddenly into sight.
Seeing the prisoner loose, Bigby shoved a hand to his hip pocket. His move was halted by a low-toned laugh which brought ghoulish shudders from the limestone walls. Dropping back, Bigby let his hands lift, half-clenched.
The mystery of Creswold's release was revealed to Claude Bigby. It was but a preliminary to some facts that this man of crime would personally be called on to reveal. The thing that was going to make Bigby talk was a leveled automatic.
A big .45 gripped in the fist of The Shadow!
XIX.THERE was more anger than fear in Bigby's voice as he beat The Shadow's actions by coming through with facts. Apparently Bigby guessed that Creswold had testified sufficiently to make his own denials useless.
”So you came down under Pow-wow Boulder,” said Bigby, to his silent accuser. Hands still lifted, Bigby glanced up to the jagged crevice and shrugged. ”I should have planted some cement there, because the old rock was getting loose. Still, the old legend was a danger, if anybody thought too much about it.”
”I thought enough about it,” affirmed The Shadow. ”So proceed.”
”There's a tunnel leading from the house.” Bigby made a beckoning motion with his head. ”That's how they used to listen in on the pow-wow in the old days.”
”And then send for help,” supplied The Shadow. ”That was important too, wasn't it, Bigby.”
There was no note of query in The Shadow's tone. Realizing that lack, Bigby's eyes became suddenly nervous, then steadied in their usually abrupt style.
”Forget the old days,” gruffed Bigby. ”You've got me and my fun is over. I guess Creswold has told you all about it.”
”Not quite all.”
”Well, you can hear the rest then. When Preston Brett moved into this county, I had to find a way to fix him.” Savagely, Bigby tightened his raised hands and his voice became a snarl. ”After Brett tricked me on that pasture buy, I swore I'd run him out of the Kawagha Valley if it was the last thing I ever did.”
Bigby paused as though The Shadow would at least accept his sentiments regarding Brett, but there was no response from those hidden lips. They, like The Shadow's face, were concealed by the down-tilted hat brim and the upturned cloak collar.
”It wasn't easy to run Brett out,” growled Bigby. ”He was getting more solid all the while. I had to frame him somehow, so I stirred up the farmers by pulling the incendiary act. It was easy for me to do it--with Zeke helping at first.”
”Until you murdered him,” remarked The Shadow, ”after he planted the job at Clem's tavern.”
”Zeke was beginning to get troublesome,” snarled Bigby. ”Anyway, it was Creswold's fault for trying to pump Zeke about the farm fires. I wasn't trying to frame Creswold--he just put his neck out too much.
”Like at Fairfield Farm. I had the thermite already planted in the hay and wired proper. When Creswold cracked through that rear door, he set off the fireworks for me. Maybe you guessed it, being there.”
The Shadow had guessed it, but he preferred to keep Bigby guessing further.