“Benzig might have remained; or Crowder might have been hidden in that closet. Benzig could have taken the newspaper; or Crowder could have failed to place it here. The hidden man could have attacked Valdan; then unbolted this door and left. Do you follow me, Cranston?”
“Yes,” came the quiet reply.
“Leaving, the murderer could have unbolted the outer door to make it appear that someone had fled.” Barth was picturing a scene involving one of Valdan’s employees. “The delivery men could hardly have had anything to do with Valdan’s death. Why should they have made two trips here?”
This time, Cranston had no reply. He glanced at his watch and appeared surprised at the lateness of the hour. Barth sensed that his friend was anxious to leave. He arose from his chair.
“I can come back to the club by cab,” declared Barth. “I doubt that the coming quiz would be of but little interest to you, Cranston. Should you care to learn about them, I can tell you of our findings when I see you at the club.”
“Very well,” agreed Cranston. “I believe that it would be best for me to leave, commissioner.”
FIVE minutes later, Lamont Cranston’s limousine rolled away from the home of Troxton Valdan. After a southward trip, it turned into a secluded side street. Stanley parked at his master’s bidding. A blackened form emerged silently from the rear door.
The light clicked in The Shadow’s sanctum. Hands appeared beneath the bluish glow. A soft laugh sounded as deft fingers began to inscribe written thoughts that faded in mysterious fashion. The Shadow was considering facts that he had noted at Troxton Valdan’s.
Valdan. Guinea pigs.
To Commissioner Wainwright Barth, this written statement would have meant the connection that had been discussed with Doctor Seton Lagwood: namely, the simultaneous overpowering of the chemist and the rodents in the box upon the table. To The Shadow, however, it inspired a new deduction.
Why had Troxton Valdan kept guinea pigs in his little laboratory? Obviously for experimental purposes. Benzig had not been surprised at the delivery of a fresh supply. Therefore, The Shadow knew that Valdan must have been gradually eliminating the cavies that he kept on hand.
This indicated that Valdan himself had applied the paralytic treatment to the two guinea pigs in the cardboard box. The chemist was not a victim of the death sleep. The living guinea pigs proved that fact. Instead, Valdan, with his secret experiments, was logically the discoverer of the gas that produced a rigid slumber!
Delivery men.
Two visits. Again, The Shadow laughed softly. He could see the purpose. Yesterday, men had come with boxes. Benzig had gone upstairs while they were in the laboratory. The men had taken the boxes away. But they had left one of the three and taken another in its place. They had stolen the complete supply of gas containers that Troxton Valdan had concealed beneath the table in his little laboratory!
Cardona had found a box with pieces of pipe inside it. Beside the box, a carpeting that had served to hide it from view. The box with its useless contents had meant nothing to Cardona; but it had meant much to Troxton Valdan. Opening the box, the returned chemist had learned that his precious chemicals had been stolen!
The newspaper.
The Shadow combined this new thought with an unfinished one — the matter of the second appearance of the delivery men. The first visit had been to accomplish theft. The second, to offset Valdan’s discovery. Last night, Valdan’s gas had been tested. Seth Tanning and three others were the victims.
Today, Valdan was due to return. There was only one course open to men of crime. Valdan had to be silenced — forever. The second delivery — the crate of guinea pigs — had been a blind to enable a killer to conceal himself in the closet of the inner laboratory, there to await the return of Troxton Valdan.
Someone — either the killer or a member of the crew — had seen the newspaper upon Valdan’s table. That journal had been removed. This was proof that someone in the crew — probably the killer — knew the contents of the box that had been stolen on the previous day. That same man might have been the one who had precipitated a gas bomb into Seth Tanning’s apartment.
The murderer.
The Shadow was analyzing the final situation. He was picturing the attack upon Troxton Valdan. The chemist had returned. No newspaper had been there to give him an inkling that his stolen discovery had been used for crime. Yet he must have suspected trouble because of Benzig’s report concerning the delivery men.
Valdan had brought out the hidden box. He had found it to be a substitute for the one that he had left. He had climbed the ladder, to see if his files were intact. He had learned that one — number 111 — was missing. Then the killer had attacked.
The murderer had chosen darkness. His work done, he had fled, probably fearing the prompt return of Benzig.
He had probably not seen the two guinea pigs in the cardboard box. He had made no attempt to turn on the light again.
That oversight marked him as a man of brute strength who lacked craft.
The Shadow could see the scheming of a master brain; but he knew that the actual murder of Troxton Valdan had been left to an underling. The big shot was out of sight, trusting to crooks of gangster type to do his bidding.
THE bluish light clicked out. The Shadow had gone far in his analysis of crime. He knew that some crafty superfiend had learned of Troxton Valdan’s experiments; that this schemer had called in the aid of ordinary criminals to gain the weapon that he wanted.
There had been strategy in last night’s test. Had it failed, the stolen box might have been replaced. Troxton Valdan would have been left in ignorance, to proceed with his experiments. But the test had succeeded; the result had been Valdan’s death warrant.
A fading laugh trailed through the sanctum. That sinister taunt marked the departure of the black-garbed investigator. But its ominous challenge carried a thought as well. The Shadow, ready to wage war with men of evil, had considered the strength of his foe.
As yet, there had been no indication that those who had gained Valdan’s secret possessed a means of protecting themselves against its power. Though their test had succeeded, crime must wait until they could guard against the boomerang effects which made others succumb.
Did friends of crime possess this second secret that they needed? If they did, The Shadow must act swiftly to offset their coming thrusts. If they did not, there would be time for The Shadow to prepare a well-formed counterstroke.
The Shadow’s deductions had carried him to this final point. All else had yielded to his keen reasoning. While investigators of the law remained perplexed by baffling mysteries, The Shadow had reached the period of action.
Crime was coming. Crime with a purpose. Preliminary strokes had involved men of the underworld. Such minions would be used in the thrusts that were to come. With this conviction, The Shadow had mapped his campaign. As yet, the odds lay with those who defied the law. But The Shadow, unseen, unsuspected, was swinging the balance to his favor.
CHAPTER VIII
PLANS FOR CRIME
“LOUSY business.”
Wolf Barlan growled this assertion as he glowered at Spud Claxter. The big shot was seated by the window of his living room, holding a morning newspaper on his lap. Spud, his shrewd face dejected, was eyeing his chief. Spud ventured a remark.
“The bulls ain’t wise, Wolf,” protested the lieutenant. “Zug got away with it. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? He croaked Valdan, didn’t he?”
“Sure he did,” returned Wolf, “but it’s a wonder everybody else don’t know it, along with us. Zug got the breaks — but he didn’t make them for himself.”