Silence reigned in the room where the light still burned. The door of the wardrobe wavered.
Timed to a slight roll of the ship, the door swung shut. This was the first time that it had acted in such fashion. The explanation came a moment later when blackness moved from between the wardrobe and the wall.
Blackness became a living shape. Materializing from the darkened area, the figure of The Shadow grew into being. Tall and sinister, the cloaked form moved silently across the cabin and paused by the outer door. Then came a soft whisper.
A sibilant laugh, confined to the limits of the creaking cabin. That was The Shadow’s aftermath to the conversation that he had overheard. The Shadow had reached this cabin ahead of Milton Claverly. From a place of concealment, he had heard all.
The door of the cabin opened. The tall shape glided into the corridor. The door closed.
A few minutes later, Claverly returned. The door of the wardrobe was swinging free. The young man pushed it open so that he could hang up his coat and vest. Then he closed the door. This time it remained shut.
Two had talked terms within this cabin. Those terms had concerned Augustus Messler’s jewels. The gems, though safe aboard the Laurentic, would be in jeopardy on Thursday night. Crime lay in the offing. When it came, The Shadow would be ready.
CHAPTER III
THURSDAY NIGHT
THE Laurentic had docked. Thursday night had arrived. Augustus Messler was at home in his Riverside Drive apartment. This was the evening scheduled for the display of the rajah’s gems.
Messler lived on the fourth floor of an imposing apartment house. Situated on an eminence above the river, this building appeared lofty from the Drive. Observed from the streets above, it nestled against the side of the hill and lost its high proportions.
From that direction, where thorough-fares were seldom frequented, approach to the apartment house was an easy matter. A side entrance — a fire tower — both offered opportunity for easy access to the building.
It was on one of the rear streets that a coupe had stopped. Two men, in the darkness of the car, were talking in low voices. Their conversation ended as a sibilant whisper came from the street side of the coupe.
Instructions followed, delivered in a strange, uncanny voice. Then blackness detached itself from the side of the car. Streetlights revealed a glimpse of a fleeting form that moved away in ghostlike fashion. After that, blackness alone was dominant.
The two men stepped from the car and followed in the direction that the phantom shape had taken.
These two were Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland. Aides of The Shadow, they had driven to this spot, there to await instructions. The Shadow had investigated the methods of approach to Messler’s apartment. He had given his agents orders, to post them in strategic places.
THE SHADOW reached the fire tower. He ascended. The only traces of his passage came when he passed lighted balconies that indicated the floors of the building. There his form materialized momentarily, only to fade when he continued his ascent.
The Shadow reached the fourth floor.
There were two entrances to Messler’s apartment. The one that led to the kitchen was situated near the fire tower. The other entrance was further along the hall. The Shadow chose the kitchen entrance. He passed through the kitchen and came to a deserted living room.
There was a door opposite. It was ajar. The Shadow could hear the sound of voices. He approached and peered within. He saw Messler talking with Milton Claverly; the two were in a room that was fitted like a study. Evidently Claverly had been the first of the guests to arrive.
The Shadow listened to snatches of conversation; then came an interruption — the buzz of the bell at the front door of the apartment. The Shadow turned and glided quickly across the living room. He chose the path through the dining nook; here he paused.
Messler had come from the study and was on his way to answer the door. The Shadow could hear the opening of the barrier. Voices followed and two men appeared, following Messler back to the study. The Shadow, gazing from his secluded corner, recognized the visitors.
Both were from headquarters. One was Detective Joe Cardona. A stocky, swarthy-faced individual, Cardona was recognized as an ace among dicks. He was at present serving in the capacity of acting inspector. His presence here meant that Messler had decided that police protection would be necessary when the rajah’s jewels were displayed.
Cardona’s companion was Detective Sergeant Markham, who frequently accompanied the ace when Cardona needed an aide.
As the three men — Messler and the sleuths — went into the study, The Shadow laughed softly. His tones were not audible beyond the confines of the dining nook.
The arrival of these representatives of the law introduced a new element into the situation. Apparently, Messler had arranged for Cardona and Markham to arrive before the guests appeared. Claverly, however, had come early. He happened to be present for whatever conference was under way.
This fact afforded opportunity to The Shadow. Instead of returning across the living room, to listen in at the study door, The Shadow remained in the dining nook. Swiftly, he divested himself of hat and cloak. He stowed these garments in a small curtained cupboard; to them, he added a brace of automatics.
When he again faced the soft light that came from the living room, The Shadow was in the guise of Lamont Cranston.
With long strides, The Shadow crossed the kitchen and went into the outer hall. He moved to the main door of the apartment and rang the bell.
There was a short pause; then the door opened and Messler appeared. The host appeared relieved to observe that the guest was Cranston.
“HELLO,” said Messler. “I hoped it would be you, Cranston. I had not expected anyone to be here so soon.”
“I am the first?” came the quiet question.
“Er — no” — Messler hesitated — “Claverly is here already. I — well, we have a while yet, and I think you had better come into the study. We have a sort of conference going on.”
“Between you and Claverly?”
“Not exactly. Claverly just happened to be here. Other persons are concerned. It will be all right for you to join us, Cranston. By the way — where is your hat and coat?”
“At the Cobalt Club.” A thin smile showed on Cranston’s lips. “The night was mild, so I strolled outside without them. Stanley — my chauffeur — happened to come along with the limousine, so I stepped aboard and came here.”
Messler was conducting Cranston across the living room. They reached the door of the study as Cranston’s statement was completed. They entered. Cranston seemed mildly surprised to see Joe Cardona and Markham.
The headquarters men knew Cranston. He was a friend of the former acting police commissioner, Wainwright Barth; he was also acquainted with Ralph Weston, the present commissioner, who was back at his old job again.
Messler had evidently told Cardona that Cranston was among the guests; for the detective did not show surprise as he shook hands with the arrival.
The men seated themselves about the study. Messler took a chair behind a desk; Claverly was close by. Cranston sat down near Cardona and Markham. Like the others, he waited for Messler to speak.
“Let me resume,” said Messler. “I have time to give Mr. Cranston a brief explanation of what is impending. Since he knows you, Cardona, he has probably guessed that you are here on account of the rajah’s jewels.
“The jewels, Cranston, are in that safe” — Messler pointed toward a strong-box set in the wall of the study — “and I intend to bring them out after all my guests have arrived. In the meantime, I — well, I have become a bit concerned about the gems, I thought — or better, suspected — that there might be danger here tonight.