Part 11 (1/2)
”That's the answer!” exclaimed Weston. ”That is exactly what we shall do tomorrow morning. Cranston, you have done great work. Mallikan, you have my thanks.”
”You have mine,” acknowledged the s.h.i.+pping man, rising. ”Apparently, commissioner, you have come to a solution of your problems. I can start my trip to Bermuda without qualms.” He glanced at his watch.
”Well, the fifteen minutes has elapsed. It is time for me to start.”
Smiling, Mallikan shook hands with members of the group; then departed, accompanied by his two detective escorts. Commissioner Weston appeared elated as he chatted with Justin Hungerfeld. The Shadow, however, retained his fixed smile as he arose from the table.
”You are leaving, Cranston?” queried Weston. ”I hope, that you would stay longer, while we discussed plans for tomorrow.”
”I am sorry, commissioner,” replied The Shadow. ”I am entertaining in New Jersey this evening. LikeMallikan, I am running the risk of overstaying my time.”
”Very well. I shall call you in the morning.”
Joe Cardona stepped forward as the commissioner spoke. The Shadow detected a glum look on the sleuth's face. He paused, waiting to hear what Cardona might have to say.
”Commissioner,” a.s.serted Joe, ”we ought to get up to that ghost fleet right away.”
”Why so, Cardona?” questioned Weston. ”It is late in the afternoon. Darkness will arrive before we could get there. It would be difficult to find the Xerxes from the sh.o.r.e.”
”It wouldn't be so tough from the river.”
”You mean we should go by water?”
”Sure, commissioner. We've got some speedy boats that can average better than thirty miles an hour. We can hit it straight up the river. No traffic, no trouble; and we run square into the ghost fleet when we get there.”
”An excellent idea, Cardona. But why have you shown all this zeal?”
”I've just had a hunch, commissioner. Dave Callard has grabbed two of these ribbons. If Mr. Cranston here could figure out the name of Xerxes from one pair of letters, maybe Callard could have done the same with two pair.”
”You are right, Cardona. We should visit the ghost fleet at once. Do you agree, Cranston?”
THE SHADOW considered. Then he spoke.
”The missing ribbons,” he declared, ”bear the letters X E and E S. Yet together, I do not consider them to be as good a clue as the R X.”
”Why not?” demanded Weston. ”They give the beginning of the word and the end.”
”Yes. But that fact might not be recognized. Anyone studying those two fragments might immediately pa.s.s by the letters X E, deciding that they would not be the beginning of a word.”
”And he would concentrate on E S as the first two letters?”
”Yes; and failing with them, he would believe that the last ribbon, the only one missing, would carry the all-important first letters. Perhaps his thought may have been that there were more than two letters on the first ribbon.”
”All good logic, Cranston. I see another point, also. If Mallikan, a s.h.i.+pping man, did not recognize that the ribbon was from a sailor's hatband, it is unlikely that Dave Callard or anyone else would guess the fact.”
”Quite true, commissioner, If Mallikan failed to see what the ribbon was, another might have done the same.”
Joe Cardona offered an objection.
”Mr. Cranston guessed what the ribbon was,” vouchsafed the detective. ”Don't forget that, commissioner.
Of course, the two most important letters are missing from the hunks of ribbon that young Callard hasgotten hold of. But if he ever managed to grab this piece, he'd know the works.”
”He would not have to gain the ribbon,” remarked The Shadow. ”If he holds the other two pieces, mere knowledge of the letters R X would serve as well. Remember, commissioner, you are dealing with a murderer who gained a head start.”
”We'll start up there right away, Cardona,” decided Weston, suddenly. ”Call headquarters. Arrange for the boats to be ready. Leave word where we will be.”
THE SHADOW spoke a quiet leave-taking; then strolled out into the hall as Weston began to talk to Hungerfeld and Cardona went to the telephone to put in his call. When the commissioner looked around, he saw that his friend Lamont Cranston had gone.
”Dash that appointment of Cranston's,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Weston. ”I was going to insist that he cancel it and come along with us.”
”Headquarters on the wire, commissioner,” remarked Cardona. ”I'm arranging for the boats. We can get two and use four men to each.”
”Have four men join us, then,” ordered Weston. ”They can meet us at the pier. You and I can ride in one boat, Cardona.”
”Just the two of us, commissioner?”
”No. We already have two men here.” Weston indicated the d.i.c.ks who had come in from Dolver's.
”They will go along with us, Cardona.”
”What about Mr. Hungerfeld, commissioner? You'll leave him here?”
”Yes. Markham can look out for him.”
The detective sergeant smiled when he heard the commissioner's statement. As a bodyguard, Markham considered himself to be the equal of a squad.
Weston's decision was indication that the commissioner also recognized the detective sergeant's worth.
Justin Hungerfeld, eyeing Markham, made no request for other protection. The old man was also impressed by the bulky sergeant's businesslike air.
Cardona completed arrangements, then glanced from the window. The afternoon was waning; it was getting close to dusk. There was still time for the run up to Poughkeepsie, although Cardona had a hunch that they would not make the trip before dusk.
The ace detective had exaggerated the speed of the police boats in order to sell Weston the idea of an immediate start. A trip by automobile could be made in less time; but Cardona knew that the commissioner would prefer the boats once they were aboard. Travel would seem swifter when ploughing along close to the water.
OTHER eyes than those of Joe Cardona were also surveying that darkening sky. The Shadow, riding southward through Manhattan, was still in the guise of Lamont Cranston as he gazed from the window of his limousine and studied the sky line of the city.
With one hand on the ready bag that contained his garments of black, The Shadow used the other to lift the speaking tube and give a quiet order to Stanley. The Shadow had decided to go elsewhere than to Lamont Cranston's New Jersey home. He had also picked a mode of travel different from those which Cardona had considered. His plan was revealed by the quiet words which he delivered through the speaking tube, just as the car approached the Holland Tunnel: ”Stop at the Newark airport, Stanley.”
CHAPTER XVII. THE YELLOW HORDE.
BACK at the old Hotel Albana, a gloom had settled in the eighth-floor corridors. Poorly illuminated by daylight, the approach of dusk had made the hallways vague. One could scarcely distinguish the numbers on the doors.
A yellow face bobbed into view from the stairway by the service elevator. That visage had not been present when The Shadow had made his departure; but it had come very shortly afterward. Dark eyes watched through slitted lids as this henchman of Leng Doy crept forward into the corridor.
A door opened; voices were heard. The Chinaman ducked back to the stairway and peered from a corner while a group of men came into view. There were four in all: Commissioner Weston, Joe Cardona and the two detectives. The quartette was on its way to a Hudson River dock.