Part 17 (1/2)
”Loo Look's at eight o'clock,” were the words.Lamont Cranston shook his head.
”Only fifteen minutes there,” he said softly. ”There's no good reason to go-it can wait. But Tiger Bronson wants it. Why not give him a chance?”
He let the notation stand. Then he rang the bell for Richards.
”Tell Stanley to bring the car,” ordered the millionaire, when the valet appeared. ”I want to get to town soon after four o'clock.”
”Very good, sir.”
The millionaire paid one final visit to the wireless room before he left. No message had been received from Vincent. So Lamont Cranston entered his luxurious limousine, and was driven to the city.
SHORTLY before six o'clock, Lamont Cranston appeared at the exclusive Cobalt Club. He put in a call for his home, and talked to Burbank. No message had been received.
”Never mind,” he told the wireless operator. ”I can wait until nearly nine o'clock. If you receive any word, put it down in tabloid form, so you can give me the details quickly. I can fix a reply in less than ten minutes.”
”Very good,” said Burbank.
Had he known that the reply-no matter how important it might be -was to go over the air, artfully concealed in a radio program, Burbank would have marveled at the amazing ability of Lamont Cranston.
But Burbank knew nothing of the means of communication which his chief intended to use.
Dinner at the Cobalt Club was an interesting affair for Lamont Cranston. He sat down at the table with wealthy friends, who were accustomed to dine from six thirty until well after eight.
But on this occasion, the globe-trotter warned his companions that he must leave them by seven thirty, in order to keep an important appointment.
One of the diners brought up the subject of recent criminal activities. The news of the gang war in Tiger Bronson's home had not found s.p.a.ce in the newspapers. It was merely a rumor. One of the men had heard of it.
”We know very little about what goes on in the underworld,” remarked a millionaire named Berkeley, with a serious expression on his face. ”There are characters there whose power is tremendous-personages of whom we seldom hear. Take, for instance, The Shadow.”
His listeners gazed at him quizzically.
”There is a real man called The Shadow,” said Berkeley, in a low voice. ”I have heard that, on good authority.
”He tries to pretend that he is simply a fict.i.tious character. He is featured in a radio program. Yet, actually, he is real, and alive.”
He paused to let his words take effect.
”No one knows his purpose,” he continued. ”Criminal or detective- whichever he may be-he strikes terror into the hearts of gangsters. He moves by night.””Some have seen him; yet none can recognize him. He is a man of many faces; the only one that no one has ever observed is his own.”
Some of the men were serious; others were smiling. Berkeley became impressive.
”The Shadow is said to be a man of wealth,” were his next words. ”He might be any one of us. You, for instance!”
Berkeley pointed directly at Lamont Cranston.
”I?” questioned Lamont Cranston. ”The Shadow?” He began to laugh at the suggestion. His mirth was contagious. The others joined, much to Berkeley's annoyance.
”Dreams, Berkeley,” said Lamont Cranston, spreading his arms in belittlement of his friend's theory.
No one noticed the grotesque, batlike shadow that appeared when Lamont Cranston's hands hovered above the white tablecloth.
CHAPTER XXIII. VINCENT RETURNS TO BROOKDALE.
THE morning had brought no worries to Harry Vincent, for the simple reason that he slept completely through it. It was after two o'clock when he awoke: He had spent two nights with very little sleep.
The problem of returning to Brookdale had been a troublesome one. There was no convenient means of transportation. A roundabout bus trip had been the only available method.
Then there had been difficulty in finding a car to reach Blair Windsor's house. Hence it was after six o'clock when Harry arrived there.
He had decided to say nothing of what had actually happened to him. He knew that it would be difficult to explain his absence of sixty hours; but an alibi was the only course.
He was sure that at least one of three people in the house-Quinn, Crull, or Vernon-were in league with the man who had captured him. He must do nothing that would betray this knowledge.
Blair Windsor, standing on the porch, gazed in amazement at Vincent's arrival.
”Where have you been, Harry?” he questioned. ”We have been worrying about you.”
”Didn't you get my message?” asked Harry, in feigned surprise.
”What message?”
”The note I left-two days ago-in the morning. I went away before any one was up. I'm sure I left the note in the living room. I didn't want to disturb you.”
Blair Windsor shook his head.
”To tell you the truth, Harry,” he said, ”we didn't realize anything about it until last night, on account of Perry Quinn.”
”How was that?” Harry Vincent's surprise was genuine, now.
”He tried to commit suicide, the day before yesterday, in the morning.”
GARRET BUCKMAN and Philip Harper appeared on the porch, and their arrival caused aninterruption. A moment later, Bert Crull joined the group.
All seemed pleased as well as surprised at Harry's return.
”Here's what happened,” explained Blair Windsor soberly, as the men sat down to talk it over. ”You know how worried Quinn has been? Well, he was in a financial jam, and we didn't know it. We knew he had been acting somewhat morose; but we didn't make any comment about it.
”Day before yesterday, Quinn received a letter. We had come down to breakfast. You and Harper were the only two who weren't there. Quinn went upstairs, looking worried.
”When he didn't come down, Garry Buckman became suspicious. He went up to Quinn's room. The fellow had swallowed some poison.
”There was a big rush after that. I drove away to get a doctor. The others gave him first aid. We took him off to the hospital, after the doctor came. They pulled him through, all right. But everybody had something to do, after that.
”Buckman went down to Boston, to straighten affairs up for Quinn. Harper and I drove over to Springfield, where Quinn's folks live. We didn't know what became of you and Crull. We knew Crull was probably here, and we thought you had been asleep when the whole trouble began.