Part 2 (2/2)

Close examination showed a s.p.a.ce of whiteness upon the side of the box, below the grimy lid. The box had not been clamped shut. Someone had opened it, studied the contents and closed the box again.

The cartridges interested The Shadow. After closing the box and shutting the drawer, he returned to examine Ba.s.slett's revolver. The cartridges in that weapon did not match those in the desk. They were of modern manufacture and of different caliber than those that The Shadow had seen in the box.

A revolver had been taken from the desk. Ralgood's revolver; and it had gone with the murderer. Had Ralgood used the weapon at all tonight?

The Shadow's laugh had an oddly negative tone. If both Ralgood and Ba.s.slett had been armed; they would have fought it out with guns. It was the murderer who had found Ralgood's revolver in the desk and taken it.

The Shadow's flashlight glimmered on the floor. The cloaked investigator was searching for some bit of forgotten evidence; any shred that might add a further clue. For The Shadow knew that murder had not been the primary objective.

Luther Ralgood could have been disposed of in a more quiet fas.h.i.+on by a killer who had a traitor set to aid him. The slayer had come here to gain some object of value; something more important than Ralgood's revolver.

IN his present quest, The Shadow encountered barren results. The murderer had not only removed the piece of blue silk ribbon; he had also been wise enough to take along the letter which Milton Callard had sent to Ralgood, some months ago.

That letter had been dropped by Ba.s.slett; it had lain on the floor, as conspicuous to the murderer as the ribbon. Both articles were gone.

Failing in this search, The Shadow went to the desk. With gloved hands, he removed papers from pigeonholes. He saw at once that the killer had made a similar search, for the various doc.u.ments were in disarray. Unfortunately, however, there were no signs of fingerprints.

In a group of letters, The Shadow uncovered an envelope that bore a Chinese stamp and postmark. He withdrew the letter from the envelope and read it by the light of his little torch.

The letter was from Dave Callard; it told Luther Ralgood that the young man would arrive aboard the Steams.h.i.+p Tamalpais and would visit him soon after disembarking in New York. This was the letter that Ralgood had mentioned to Ba.s.slett.

Here was the link with facts that The Shadow already knew. Dave Callard had started for Talleyrand Place but had changed destination when he had spied Moe Shrevnitz's cab upon his trail. Dave had held a brief interview with Leng Doy; The Shadow's intrusion had terminated that conference.

But Dave had gained an advantage over The Shadow. The fight in the pa.s.sage at the Wuhu Cafe; the delay that The Shadow had experienced in making his escape through the secret panel - these had allowed Callard a quarter hour leeway. Time enough to have come here, murdered two men, gathered trophies and departed.

Haste alone could account for Callard pa.s.sing by this letter in his rapid search of Ralgood's desk. In hisgloved hand, The Shadow held the all-important clues that would govern the law's search for a missing murderer.

The question that concerned The Shadow at this moment was one of choice. Should he continue the search alone? Or should he, in a sense, invite the law to partic.i.p.ate in the same quest?

The Shadow's decision was an action. Carefully, he replaced the letter from China with the others in the desk. Extinguis.h.i.+ng his flashlight, he moved through darkened rooms and departed by the back door, leaving it unlocked behind him.

A FINAL laugh crept softly through the darkness of the alleyway as The Shadow glided away from the neighborhood of Talleyrand Court. Though a murderer had eluded his grasp, The Shadow was confident that he could trace the criminal's course. The Shadow's ways and means were many.

Even though he had been unable to learn the nature of the spoils that had been taken from Ralgood's; though he had no actual proof that any object had been removed, The Shadow had learned enough to know that he was dealing with a man who would stop at no crime. The Shadow's task was to trail a supercrook whose schemes held depth.

CHAPTER V. IN THE MORNING.

AT nine o'clock the next morning, a brisk, square-built man walked into the office of the Indo-China s.h.i.+pping Bureau. Black-haired and dark-eyed man, his features showed a determined, outthrust jaw that marked him as a keen man of business.

”Gentleman to see you, Mr. Mallikan,” observed the girl at the switchboard, turning about in her chair.

”Came in about ten minutes ago.”

”Where is he?” demanded the black-haired man, glancing quizzically at the empty waiting benches.

”I sent him into your office,” replied the girl. ”He said that he was a friend of yours from China.”

”What was his name?”

”He wouldn't say.”

Mallikan snapped a sharp retort. Then, curbing his angriness, Mallikan turned on his heel and strode across to his private office.

The Indo-China s.h.i.+pping Bureau was located high in a downtown skysc.r.a.per. When Mallikan entered his office, he saw a young man standing by the window, gazing off beyond the Battery, where an incoming liner looked like a tiny toy between microscopic tugboats. Mallikan closed the door with a thump; the man at the window turned about with a nervous start, then grinned.

”Dave Callard!” exclaimed Mallikan. ”Well, well. So you're back from China earlier than you expected.”

”I am,” returned Callard, advancing to shake hands. ”What's more, I'm glad to be here. Those months in the cooler weren't any too pleasant.”

”The consulate fixed it for you?”

”Not so much. My Chinese friends in Canton were the ones who really pulled the trick.”

”Sit down. Give me the details.” MALLIKAN took a chair behind a large mahogany desk; he proffered a box of expensive cigars.

Callard accepted one of the smokes and seated himself opposite the black-haired s.h.i.+pping man.

”It was a real mess,” explained Callard. ”Started in Canton when I made a deal with some Chinese merchants to convoy some of their boats up the Chu-kiang.”

”You mean the Canton River?”

”Yes - or the Pearl River, as some call it. Well, the American consul found out what I was doing and advised me to lay off. I went ahead. Smeared a bunch of pirate sampans and thought I'd done a swell job until I landed back in Canton.”

”Yes. I knew your trouble started there.”

”The pirates had friends among some of the local officials. They grabbed me and shoved me in the yamen. Mean places, those Chinese jails.”

”What did the consul do about it?”

”He wanted to try me in the international court. If they'd found me guilty, I'd have been s.h.i.+pped to Manila. I wanted to stay in Canton, on account of my Chinese friends. Well, there were all sorts of complications; but it finally worked out the way I wanted it. Technically, I was sentenced to serve a year in the Chinese prison; but I was transferred to the custody of the international settlement.”

Callard paused to puff at his cigar. His lips hardened into a shrewd smile as he recalled his experiences.

”I was counting on some of those smart officials getting the bounce,” he resumed. ”They were pals of the pirates, taking a cut on every robbery, even though they pretended to be on the level. It worked out like I expected. At the end of six months my friends were back in power. They sent a polite delegation to the American consulate and I was released.”

Mallikan began to drum his desk. He was gazing from the window, pondering upon the facts that Callard had just related. At last he nodded brusquely.

”I thought it was something like that, Dave,” he declared. ”You were pretty well filled with desire for adventure when I arranged your first s.h.i.+pping berth a few years ago. But I never expected you to get into a sc.r.a.pe as bad as this one.”

”It did look bad when I wrote you about it,” replied Callard with a short laugh. ”You'd have thought I was a pirate on my own, the way they grabbed me, there in Canton.”

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