“I went into seclusion,” declared Professor Jark, “not into retirement. I had greater work to do. New inventions commanded my skill. That is why the public has heard but little of me, lately.
“And now, Mr. Cranston” — again the old man emphasized the name as he uttered it — “it is my turn to ask some questions; ones that I shall expect you to answer, since you were trespassing on my premises.”
THE SHADOW made no reply. Instead, he arose from his chair, smoothed the coat of his full dress suit in fastidious fashion and turned to face the professor. A quizzical smile showed on The Shadow’s steady lips. It indicated, as much as words could have, that he was ready for the professor’s quiz.
“Tell me, Mr. Cranston,” suggested the professor, “how you first came to be acquainted with my secretary, Bruce Duncan.”
“Bruce Duncan?” questioned The Shadow, in a puzzled tone. “Who is Bruce Duncan?”
“Come, come!” snapped Jark, in an irritated manner. “I have every right to demand fair answers to my questions. Your acquaintance with Bruce Duncan is a known fact.”
“The name is not familiar to me,” affirmed The Shadow, in a convincing tone. “I have given you my answer, professor. It is I who should be annoyed; not you. Let me ask why you have kept me here after subjecting me to the peril of an electric shock? What has warranted such behavior on your part?”
“This!” ejaculated Jark, bringing a paper from the pocket of the old jacket that he was wearing. “This paper, found in your possession. Not only do I recognize words in Bruce Duncan’s handwriting; but the information that it carries could only have been given by my former secretary.”
The Shadow stared curiously at the paper in Jark’s hand. His lips phrased a slight laugh as he extinguished his cigarette in an ash tray on the table. Chuckling slightly, he spoke, still in Cranston’s fashion.
“So that was Bruce Duncan,” remarked The Shadow. “That wild-eyed chap without a hat, who came barging into my limousine. Of course, I would have recognized the man, professor, had you prefaced your question by speaking of the list.
“This has been an adventurous evening, professor. It has caused me to miss my bridge game with the acting police commissioner, Wainwright Barth. I was to have met him at the Cobalt Club this evening. However, I doubt that Barth will start the police searching for me much before one o’clock. He never worries about anything but bridge until after the game is over.”
A look of worriment appeared upon Jark’s face. The thuggish servant shifted uneasily. Seating himself in the easy-chair, The Shadow resumed his discourse.
“BARTH will have no trouble locating me,” mused The Shadow. “I told the head waiter in the grillroom that I was coming to this address. Barth always goes to the grill after he plays bridge. But that, of course, is irrelevant to our present conversation. I suppose, professor, you would like to know how I came in contact with Bruce Duncan.”
“I would,” cackled Jark.
“It is a most curious story,” stated The Shadow. “You see, professor, I have just returned from San Francisco. Immediately on arriving, I went directly to the Cobalt Club. I had wired Barth that I expected to be in tonight. But I had informed no one else. Therefore, you can imagine my surprise when I found Stanley, my chauffeur, outside the club with my limousine.
“I noticed the car as I was going in the door. As I hailed Stanley, the doorman stepped up and gave me a message. It was marked ‘urgent,’ and it bore the simple statement that the meeting would take place at a corner on Third Avenue at eight o’clock.”
“At what time was this?” queried Jark, as The Shadow paused.
“Twenty minutes of eight,” returned The Shadow promptly. “The message intrigued me. I called Stanley and told him to drive to the address given. It was just about eight o’clock when we neared there.”
“And then?”
“Stanley stopped the car as we heard gunshots beneath the Third Avenue elevated. I told him to turn the limousine about, even though we were on a one-way street. While he was doing so, I slipped from the car.
“As the firing ceased, I saw a taxicab speed away. Then a man came dashing in my direction. He had no hat; he was panting; and blood was streaking his face. He saw me by the car; he thrust that paper into my hands. Before I could stop him, he dashed into a courtyard between two houses.
“Police cars were blowing their sirens from the avenue. I hastened to enter my limousine; I had Stanley drive me to back to the club. When I arrived there, I asked him why he had come in from New Jersey. He said that the club had phoned, stating that I wanted the limousine there. So I sent Stanley back to New Jersey, stating that I would either drive out in a friend’s car, or would remain at the club overnight.”
The Shadow paused to light another cigarette. He was chuckling over the circumstances which he had related. He seemed quite at ease when he proceeded.
“Barth was not due until half past nine,” declared The Shadow. “I had supper in the grillroom and while I was eating, a jolly idea struck me. I decided to use this chart that the running man had given me; to find out what mystery lay within this house. I thought that I might gain some unusual news for my friend, the acting commissioner.”
The Shadow paused abruptly. He smiled as he shrugged his shoulders. His story was told; idly puffing his cigarette, he awaited Professor Jark’s comment.
“An interesting tale, Mr. Cranston,” gibed the old man. “Unfortunately, it does not fully bear out circumstances. At about half past nine tonight, I had a friend put in a call to your New Jersey home. Do you know what he learned?”
“I have no idea, professor.”
“He learned that Lamont Cranston had been at his home this evening. That he had just left, shortly before half past nine, for a trip to New York. So it seems, Mr. Cranston, that you are a most unusual person. One who can be two places at once.”
The Shadow leaned back in his chair. He indulged in a chuckled laugh that made the professor stare, while the hard-faced servants looked bewildered.
“What a joke on Stanley!” exclaimed The Shadow. “Finding me at home when he arrived there. He must have thought that I flew over by autogyro. Well, Stanley has been perplexed before; so this time it won’t matter.”
Rising to an upright position, The Shadow ended his laugh. A sternness replaced the smile that had shown on his steady, disguised features. He pounded a fist upon the arm of his chair.
“The joke, however, has gone too far!” announced The Shadow. “I shall tolerate no more of it! This impostor who uses my name, my home, my club — I shall end his lark at once! I thought before that it was foolish to allow the hoax to go on. Tonight has proven that the whole masquerade is dangerous.”
Professor Jark was staring, as if demanding an explanation. Before the old man could put a question, The Shadow resumed in an irritated tone.
“I do not know the bounder’s real name,” he declared, “but he calls himself ‘The Shadow.’ He had the audacity to write me a letter, stating that he chose to pass himself as Lamont Cranston during my absence from New York. If I objected, I was to say so, by an advertisement in the want ads of the Globe.
“I never raised that objection. When my servants spoke of my having been at home when I was absent; when strangers addressed me by name, I took it all as a friendly game. Particularly because I was never really annoyed by the bounder’s activities.