“Yes. One man spied you. He came here in the bus that you took.”
Murson began to remember the young man with the magazine. He nodded. Then his thoughts went back to his plight. His face registered a troubled look.
“Your spectacles are excellent,” remarked The Shadow, maintaining his inflexible smile. “By shaving your mustache and clipping those bushy eyebrows, you can easily pose as John Dyler. Particularly if you remain here. The police are convinced that you are anxious to get out of town. Soon they will believe that you have departed.”
“That’s right!” exclaimed Murson. “And if I don’t call Dobbs, I can sit tight!”
“For a few days,” stated The Shadow.
“For a few days!” gasped Murson. “But — but what about after that?”
“You can visit the police yourself. By that time, the actual perpetrators of the crime will be apprehended.”
THERE was a solemnity in The Shadow’s tone that carried conviction. Murson believed the firm words of his amazing visitor. More at ease, he shifted in his chair; then delivered a question that was in his mind.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked. “Why does saving me from arrest have to do with the criminals?”
The Shadow did not give an immediate reply. Instead, he seated himself in a chair opposite Murson and brought a gold cigarette case from his pocket. He offered the broker a smoke. Murson accepted. The Shadow lighted a cigarette of his own.
“Dangerous men have come from under cover,” he explained. “Successful in murder, they have dived beneath the surface. They are elated because you are wanted for their crime. Your arrest would make them cautious, because you are innocent.
“But so long as you appear to be the one the police want, the crooks will feel themselves free to move again. They will believe that you are hiding out through fear. They will act as quickly as possible, before you are uncovered.
“Our purpose” — The Shadow’s tone was steady and impersonal — “is to lull them. That will be accomplished through your cooperation. I have shown you how to remain undiscovered. I shall tell you how and where to reach me in case of emergency. In the meantime, you can assist by telling me all you know regarding the affairs of Theobald Luftus.”
Murson nodded; then stared speculatively toward the smoke that was rising from his cigarette.
“Those rogues made a big haul,” he stated. “Pretty close to half a million, I should gauge. I can describe a few of the securities that Murson held.”
“Later.”
“All right. I guess you want to know when I last saw Luftus. That was yesterday afternoon. He asked me to come up and look over a lot of his stocks and bonds. I went there.”
“At what hour?”
“About three o’clock. I wasn’t going to Washington until about five. A visit to a friend down there. Business regarding investments. Well, sir, Luftus showed me stack after stack of gilt-edged stuff! The man was an absolute miser in his way.”
“And his purpose—”
“Was to get my opinion regarding a gift of twenty thousand dollars. He didn’t say who it was to. Just picked out batches of securities and asked me which he could give easiest without hurting himself.
“He said some people were coming to get the twenty thousand. He referred to a letter and mentioned that he’d have to call the people up.”
“And the letter—”
“Went back into his safe along with the securities.
“You know” — Murson narrowed his thick eyebrows — “I think that servant, Barry, was trying to tell the whole thing from the start.
“He wanted to tell the police that I could give them information. That I was there, and that I brought old Luftus a special account book in which he could list all of his securities. Luftus was making such a list when I left.”
“Would he have placed the book in his safe?”
“Yes. He kept all of his papers there. Well, sir, when I saw the New York newspaper on the train, I went into a funk. It looked bad for me. I guess I did just what you expected I’d do.
“I got out of sight. I didn’t want to be arrested and have to give my flimsy story. That’s why I came here. And I’m going to stay here, like you’ve told me.”
The Shadow arose from his chair.
“Do exactly as I have ordered,” he said in his modulated tone. “Play your part as John Dyler. Answer telephone calls without alarm. You will hear further from me. Your testimony has its value. Rest assured that the real criminals will be uncovered.”
The Shadow extended his hand. Murson received it. Then the tall visitor turned and departed, leaving the broker sighing in relief.
Standing by the elevators on the ninth floor, The Shadow indulged in a soft, almost inaudible laugh. He had accomplished his mission with Adolph Murson. New knowledge had been acquired.
Through his contact with the hunted broker, The Shadow had gained another step in the swift pace that he was taking toward the climax that he wanted.
With the parts played by Steve Zurk and Beak Latzo already clearing in his mind, The Shadow was prepared to deal with men of crime.
CHAPTER XIII. DELHUGH’S VISITOR
JACK TARGON had mentioned at lunch that he was scheduled for an evening appointment with Perry Delhugh. At seven o’clock, after an early dinner, Jack went to the philanthropist’s home. Delhugh had finished his evening meal. Benzig conducted Jack to the philanthropist’s study.
Another visitor arrived half an hour later. Benzig, going upstairs, rapped at the door of the study and entered at Delhugh’s call. He handed a card to the philanthropist. An exclamation of interest came from Delhugh.
“Lamont Cranston!” he stated. “I have heard of him. A millionaire, famed for his travels. He wishes to see me, Benzig?”
“Yes, sir.”
Delhugh turned to Jack.
“I think we have chatted long enough,” he remarked. “Your interest in the advertising business is encouraging, Targon. You can tell me more about it on your next visit.”
“You want me here Thursday night?” inquired Jack.
“Yes,” acquiesced Delhugh. “Stop in for a few minutes, at least.”
Jack Targon left, followed by Benzig, who went with Delhugh’s order to usher Mr Cranston upstairs.
In the lower hallway, Jack came face to face with the visitor. He noted that Cranston was a person of distinctive appearance. In fact, Jack carried a sharp recollection of the face that he observed.
A firm well-moulded countenance, with an expression that rendered it inflexible and masklike. Such was the impression that Jack Targon gained. For the ex-convict had come face to face with the same person who had visited Adolph Murson that very afternoon.
UP in his study, Perry Delhugh arose to greet his unexpected visitor. The philanthropist, like Jack Targon, was impressed by the appearance of Lamont Cranston. Handshakes were followed by cigars.
While Delhugh took his place behind the desk, Lamont Cranston seated himself in an easy chair and came promptly to the purpose of his visit.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Delhugh,” stated the visitor, in his steady even tone. “I have heard much of your philanthropies. I admire the spirit of them.”
Delhugh bowed in acknowledgment.
“Particularly,” resumed The Shadow, perfect in his role of Cranston, “your ideas in regard to individual betterment. I have heard that you recently befriended two pardoned convicts; that you gave them a new start in life.”
“One of the men just went downstairs,” replied Delhugh. “Perhaps you saw him as he went out.”
“I saw an intelligent-looking chap going—”
“That was Jack Targon. Former swindler. Now a coming advertising man.”
“Remarkable! Let me congratulate you, Mr. Delhugh. You have chosen an excellent type of welfare work.”