The Shadow had observed that entrance before he had viewed Hobston’s body. All the while, he had been sending keen glances toward the metal door. Howard Norwyn, slumped behind the grillwork, was motionless. The Shadow had glimpsed the outline of his body; but had left the inspection of the vault room until later.
A sound came upward from the street. It was the whine of a siren. A police car was arriving through the fog. Again, The Shadow laughed. Like a living phantom, he strode to the grillwork and worked upon the automatic lock.
His keen eyes flashed as they surveyed the form within. Lack of motion by Howard Norwyn had indicated that the young man might be dead. But as The Shadow worked, Norwyn moved. He blinked. He stared at the grillwork; he could see the motion of blackness beyond it.
Then Norwyn realized that he held a revolver. The fact impressed itself as he was rising. Thinking that an enemy stood without, the young man emitted a hoarse cry, just as the door swung open in The Shadow’s grasp.
Norwyn raised his gun too late. Like a living avalanche, The Shadow came sweeping in upon him. A blackened fist clipped Norwyn’s chin. The young man slumped to the floor. The revolver clattered from his hand.
The Shadow gained the weapon. He opened the chamber and spied one empty cartridge. A soft laugh came from his lips as he pocketed the weapon. Standing above Norwyn’s slumped form, The Shadow gazed at Hobston’s body.
THE situation was plain. Some one had murdered George Hobston. The killer had thrust Howard Norwyn into the vault room, planting the gun upon him. The grillwork offered numerous loopholes. It would have been easy for a man to have killed Hobston from this room.
The false evidence looked plain. Apparently Hobston and Norwyn had quarreled. Hobston had managed to lock Norwyn in the vault room. Then Hobston had put in his call; Norwyn, coming back to his senses, had shot his employer in the back.
The openings in the grill were too small to push a revolver through. Hence Norwyn could not have gotten rid of the gun until released. Had the police arrived before The Shadow, they would surely have arrested Howard Norwyn as the murderer of George Hobston.
The police! Again, a siren’s whine came cutting up through the foggy night. The Shadow’s laugh was grim. The Shadow could see the truth of what had happened here. He knew that Howard Norwyn must have been overcome by some swift-acting foe.
The real murderer was gone. To leave the wrong man here for the police to quiz would be in keeping with the murderer’s desire. Too late to apprehend the killer himself, The Shadow, at least, could balk the criminal’s schemes.
The Shadow had a double opportunity. First, to release Howard Norwyn from his dilemma; second, to leave the police looking for the murderer. The man who killed George Hobston could not have gone far. Doubtless, he was still in the building; secure in the thought that murder would be blamed upon Howard Norwyn. The Shadow saw a way to save an innocent man from trouble; also to force the police to the search, which the murderer thought would be delayed.
Turning toward the vault, The Shadow stooped and raised Norwyn’s body over his shoulder. Carrying the unconscious young man as a trifling burden, The Shadow strode toward the outer office.
In his possession, the black-clad investigator was carrying the revolver which contained the empty cartridge. The Shadow reached the corridor. It was as silent as before; yet The Shadow knew that any minute would bring men of the law into this hallway.
Swiftly, The Shadow gained the stairway. Still carrying his burden, he turned upward. As he did, a shuddering laugh of triumph came from his lips. Echoes died along the hall. The Shadow was gone; Howard Norwyn with him. Silence reigned for the space of seven seconds.
Then came the clang of the opening elevator doors. Three men leaped into the corridor. Detectives had arrived from headquarters. They were here to view the scene of crime. They did not know that a visitor from the night had arrived before them.
For The Shadow, swift and decisive, had left no trace of his mysterious presence. Yet he had carried away the man on whom crime had been planted; and with him, the weapon that the murderer had used to deliver death.
CHAPTER III
THE DEPARTURE
THE detectives had left the door of the elevator open. The operator, no longer languorous, was lingering in the corridor until their return. He did not have long to wait. Two detectives came on the run from 3318.
“A guy’s been murdered,” one of them informed. “You’re going to take me down to the lobby, so I can bring up the rest of the squad. Say — we’ll have to start a search of this whole blamed building.”
“You’re right,” returned the other dick. “Have ‘em keep a close watch in the lobby all the while. There’s no way for the murderer to get out of this building except by the elevators. That’s a cinch.”
“This is the only car that’s running,” remarked the operator. “The others are all down in the basement.”
“Good,” commented the detective.
While this conversation was under way, The Shadow had reached the floor above. At a spot directly over the heads of the detectives and the operator, he had laid Howard Norwyn on the floor. Strong hands were at work on the closed doors of the elevator shaft. With an instrument of steel, pried between the sliding metal barriers, The Shadow released the catch.
The doors opened; peering downward, The Shadow saw the top of the elevator a few feet below. He could hear no sound of talk; for the elevator was a solid car that completely filled its portion of the shaft.
Easing downward, The Shadow gained a footing on the top of the elevator. His strong arms stretched forward and drew Howard Norwyn into the shaft. The Shadow rested the young man on the car; his gloved hand eased the doors shut.
In the midst of solid blackness, The Shadow crouched to the top of the elevator and gripped Howard Norwyn in a firm grasp. The space was ample; so long as The Shadow held Norwyn on his precarious perch, no harm could befall the man who had been rescued.
Yet The Shadow was not a second too soon. Hardly had he completed his preparation before the muffled clang of the doors sounded from the thirty-third floor. The elevator began a record drop on its way to the ground floor.
The Shadow clutched Howard Norwyn tightly during the three-hundred-foot descent. His grip was firm as the car came to a stop at the lobby. Doors clanged again. Footsteps shuffled from the elevator; but voices could not be heard in the lobby.
THE SHADOW was counting, however, upon another interval. Sliding over the side of the car, he slipped downward until his feet rested upon the top of an elevator that was on the basement level. From this adjoining shaft, The Shadow could just reach Norwyn’s feet. He drew the young man toward him as Norwyn’s body came limply from above. The Shadow caught it and rested the stupefied man upon the lower elevator.
Seconds passed; then doors clanged. A whirr of air as the first elevator sped upward. Its shaft was clear. The Shadow edged over the side of the basement elevator and worked upon the lower doors. They came open. The Shadow dropped to his objective.
Getting Norwyn through was a more difficult task. The Shadow was standing at the edge of the shaft which contained the one operating elevator. Below was a pit of considerable depth. The Shadow was equal to the job. He brought Norwyn’s light form over the edge of the elevator, caught the slumping body and swung it to safety. In the basement, The Shadow closed the doors to the shaft.
During the day, the basement of the Zenith Building served as a concourse to the subway. At night, however, heavy doors were closed at the top of the stairs to the lobby. Hence the basement was deserted; not only that, the police who had arrived in the building had not started a search in this direction.