AS Tressler and his visitor moved toward the patio, the secretary appeared quite suddenly, as though he had heard their approach, and was coming to see if he were needed.
“Never mind, Byres,” said Tressler, as he saw the young man. “I shall conduct Mr. Bewkel to the elevator. You will not be needed.”
A frown appeared upon the secretary’s crafty face as Byres watched the two men make their way through the patio. With a slinking stride, the young man headed toward the open roof. He passed doors that were open and doors that were closed. Reaching the roof, he went toward the parapet and stood gazing out above the city.
Atop a building, Byres eyed a huge electric light: one which shone with white-clustered corners and thin white lines between them. The young man stared steadily in that direction; then turned and moved back across the roof.
When Felix Tressler reappeared, Byres was gathering up some glasses that were on a table. The heavy-built millionaire seated himself in his big chair and lighted a cigar as Byres carried the glasses into the apartment.
It was later when Wilton Byres again appeared upon the roof. Behind Tressler’s back, the secretary once more edged toward the parapet where, between potted shrubs, he could view the electric sign.
Lights of doom! They were unchanging tonight. Their color remained white, with no token of a signal. Yet the cunning look that appeared upon the face of Wilton Byres showed that the secretary was anticipating the time when changing lights would glimmer.
Tonight, Wilton Byres had heard Felix Tressler and Maurice Bewkel hold their private discussion. He had listened in on talk of Dustin Cruett’s death. Like waiting men in the streets below, Wilton Byres knew the purpose of those lights of doom.
The circle of death was quiet tonight. Later — perhaps upon the morrow — it would act. That was the time which Wilton Byres awaited!
CHAPTER V
THE SHADOW PREPARES
WEIRD light flickered in a strange room. Its rays revealed walls of polished black. They also showed a polished table and items of equipment, all of the same ebony hue. Standing in the room was a tall, grotesque figure, which moved like a phantom shade against the shiny background.
This was The Shadow’s laboratory.
A windowless room where the light of day never penetrated, this was the spot where the mysterious master conducted experiments essential to his work of battling crime.
Standing before the laboratory table, The Shadow picked up a test tube in his gloved left hand. In his right, he held the sheaf of paper matches which he had taken from Inspector Klein’s desk. With a deft movement of his fingers, The Shadow snapped one match from the pack.
He held the match above a tiny burner. Directly over that, he gripped the test tube. Slowly, the right hand lowered. Coming nearer to the flame, the match suddenly ignited.
Up went The Shadow’s hands. They moved away from the burner, but all the while, the fingers of the right thrust the tip of the burning match up into the protecting interior of the inverted test tube which the left hand held.
The flame of the match was greenish. A snap of The Shadow’s fingers extinguished it. Greenish smoke curled up into the test tube. As it disintegrated, the smoke formed a greenish coating about the interior of the tube.
The match dropped to the table. The right hand brought up a rubber cork and plugged it into the test tube. The left hand placed the tube, right side up, into a little stand.
Keen eyes studied the tube. Then, with great care, The Shadow removed the rubber plug. One hand produced a bottle of a reddish liquid and poured a quantity into the test tube. The liquid trickled down the sides, washing the sediment of green that had formed there.
The Shadow moved the stand above the burner. Hot flame licked the bottom of the test tube. Gradually, the reddish liquid began to bubble; then to boil. A slight vapor arose as The Shadow drew away.
The green coating had disappeared from the inside of the tube. It had mingled with the reddish liquid. Now, with the heat test in operation, another change was manifested. The color of the liquid faded. Neither red nor green remained.
A grim laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips. This chemical test was significant. It proved the truth of suspicions which The Shadow had held. It solved the secret of Dustin Cruett’s death.
The match heads in the packet which Cruett had used were formed with a deadly poison as an essential content. An arsenic compound, these match heads had led Cruett to his doom.
THE fact that the prepared matches were hard to light had added to the chances of Cruett’s rapid death. Each puff at a fading flame had brought more poison into the man’s system. A frequent lighter of cigarettes, Cruett had sealed his own doom.
Murder!
The Shadow knew the truth. More than that, he realized that he was dealing with some insidious master of crime. Dustin Cruett, from the time that he arrived at the Hotel Zenith, must have been under the observation of murderous men who knew how to act as well as to watch.
The purpose? The finding of that was The Shadow’s next task. The work lay elsewhere than in the laboratory.
The Shadow’s tall form moved toward what appeared to be a solid wall of black. The lights went out as a gloved hand pressed against the wall. A slight puff of air marked the silent opening of a hidden portal. The Shadow had left the laboratory.
ANOTHER darkened room where blackness rested with eerie stillness. A click sounded amid enshrouding gloom. A blue light flickered above a polished table. Hands, no longer gloved, appeared beneath the shaded rays.
A sparkling gem glimmered from a long white finger — The Shadow’s girasol — a priceless fire-opal which was The Shadow’s only token of identity.
Here, in his sanctum, The Shadow proceeded to open envelopes. His long-fingered hands were like living creatures detached from the arms. The eyes of The Shadow, staring from darkness beyond the sphere of light, were studying the contents of the envelope.
These were reports from The Shadow’s agents. Beginning with the information which Joe Cardona had obtained, The Shadow had followed with further investigation. Through Clyde Burke, a newspaper man secretly in his service; through Rutledge Mann, investment broker who held employment with him, The Shadow was learning more concerning Dustin Cruett’s past.
The report sheets showed specifically that Dustin Cruett had not only been a promoter of certain successful stocks. At one time, the dead man had conducted a bureau which investigated various securities. Dustin Cruett had also worked on occasions for individuals and concerns, gaining valuable information regarding their investments.
Coincident with this report were further facts from Rutledge Mann. These were in the form of a list which gave the names of certain stocks not handled by the exchange. Attached memoranda gave details regarding these securities.
One by one, The Shadow checked the list. His marking finger eliminated certain names. The list narrowed. At last it came to a single concern: the Electro Oceanic Corporation.
The Shadow’s fingers clipped the memorandum which Rutledge Mann had prepared concerning this company. The eyes of The Shadow read:
Electro Oceanic Corporation: Location of plant; South Shoreview, Virginia. Purpose: Development of wave motors for power production.
Capital Stock: 2,500 shares. $100 per share. Total issue; $250,000. Present value, $10 per share. New issue of 5,000 shares, value $500,000, is expected.
Remarks: Trading in this stock reached a standstill until the low mark of $10 per share was reached. Sales have been made recently at that figure. Small stockholders have been selling before further drop occurs.