Replacement later.
The Shadow was recalling Harry Vincent’s report. On the night of the murder, Harry had heard footsteps in Breck’s house. He had encountered only Craven, who had told Harry and the deputy that he, too, had heard footsteps. That, logically, was the time when the gun had been put back in Grantham Breck’s study.
Knowledge. Time interval.
The Shadow was comparing two points. First, that someone must have known the location of the smoke house; second that someone also knew where the Luger belonged. Had there been no time interval between the bestowal of the body and the replacement of the gun, it would have meant that one person knew both facts.
But the time interval made it possible for two persons to have figured. First: the murderer, who like anyone who had seen Breck’s grounds — would have known about the locked smoke house. Second: a crafty schemer, who knew Breck’s house from the inside.
Whether one or two were involved, the man upon whom The Shadow must concentrate was the schemer who had replaced the gun. Yet The Shadow was missing no point. Roughly, he specified the time intervaclass="underline"
Smoke house before nine.
Replacement after midnight.
A soft, whispered laugh as the written thoughts vanished. The Shadow resumed his deductions with a new phrase:
Contact with Breck.
This referred to the chief criminal concerned. The Shadow was considering the matter of the pistol. Whoever had replaced it had most certainly visited Grantham Breck by that side door. The two must have been good friends. Otherwise, the lawyer would not have shown the visitor the hiding place where he kept the Luger. Johanna had been the only other person to see the pistol. Old Breck had shown it to her by coincidence.
The Luger.
Words and the pistol were both before The Shadow’s burning gaze. Again the soft laugh whispered. There must be some definite reason why Grantham Breck had brought the weapon from its hiding place to let his secret visitor examine it. The Shadow had the answer.
Crime. Complicity.
Crime had been brewing. Grantham Breck and his visitor had been hatching misdeeds between them. Figuring ways and means, the old lawyer had produced the Luger pistol. It had been an inspiration. Then murder had intervened. The Shadow had the reason for it:
Double cross.
GRANTHAM BRECK had not played fair. It was plain that he had been working with some man of crime. The lawyer should have stayed indoors. The period of the visit had been followed by Grantham Breck’s new habit of sneaking out at nights.
Why should the lawyer have jeopardized his position by becoming a prowler? He had been visited by a crook. This man had minions. The answer was obvious. During a lull that had followed the visits, the old lawyer had started out on his own. The crook was watching. He had brought in thugs to aid him. Grantham Breck had been intercepted on his way up the hill. He had received the crook’s answer to a double-crosser: death.
The goal.
Swag. The Shadow knew that answer. Tim Forey’s chance remarks had been illuminating. Some crook knew that the wealth of the Dobbin gang was buried hereabouts. It must be on the hill, in the property that Ezekiel Twinton had purchased.
Hence Grantham Breck’s offer to buy that land. A New York lawyer who had dealt with crooks, Grantham Breck had been approached by some member of the evil fraternity. Had he bought the property, the hidden spoils could have been easily regained. Failing in that, Grantham Breck had advised the crook to bring in a crew — or perhaps the crook himself had suggested that plan.
Again the laugh. The Shadow was linking all this with the Luger pistol. He could see Grantham Breck as an advisor, as canny in plans of crime as he had been when facing juries. One more written thought concluded The Shadow’s chain. His hand wrote two words:
The move.
The crook had brought in his crew. That meant that the time to move had been approaching. But instead of going after the swag, Grantham Breck had been slain. Perhaps the mob had been brought early, on the lawyer’s account. If so, it was proof that Grantham Breck knew too much.
The move would be coming soon. The murder of the old lawyer had delayed it. The discovery of the Luger pistol might well mean another short delay. But the move would come; and it would be ordered by the master crook, the only one who must surely have remained on the ground.
The Shadow would wait. No need to strike until the move was made. But meanwhile, he would piece more facts. His silent investigations would continue.
The little light went out. The Luger was shifted back into the drawer. A swish; the drawer closed. Half a minute later, the window was silently lowered.
The Shadow had listened. He had made his deductions. Forgetting nothing in the past or present, the unseen investigator blended with the night.
CHAPTER XI
PATHS TO THE HILL
IT was after midnight. The Union Limited had gone through. Zach Hoyler’s duty was nearly ended. After the arrival and departure of the Dairy Express, his day’s work would be over. The station agent was coming from his little ticket office when the door of the waiting room opened. In stepped Perry Nubin.
Hoyler was surprised to see the railroad dick. Nubin grinned as the station agent stared at him. He seemed to pick the question that was in Hoyler’s mind.
“Wondering how I came in tonight, eh?” asked Nubin. “I guess old Number Three pounded through here pretty fast, didn’t she?”
Hoyler nodded. Number Three was the Union Limited. The train had been running late; Hoyler had received a wire stating that it would not stop at Chanburg unless passengers were waiting. Hoyler had wired back that none were at the station.
“Well,” chuckled Nubin, “I was aboard. Thought I wasn’t going to get off, but she slowed up near the grade crossing and I dropped clear. Hoofed it back here along the tracks.”
Hoyler nodded. He doubted the detective’s explanation. There was no reason why the Limited should have slowed when it neared the spot where the hill road crossed the tracks. Nevertheless, Hoyler deemed it unwise to express doubts of Nubin’s truthfulness. He made a tactful remark.
“I knew you were around town this morning,” said the agent, “but I didn’t expect you back. Went out this afternoon, didn’t you?”
“Sure,” replied the detective. “But I thought I’d better make a quick trip in and out tonight. Just to make sure things were right.”
“There’s nothing wrong so far as I know.”
“Well, you don’t always know everything,” growled Nubin. “But I’ll take your word for it. Say — I saw that rube sheriff this morning.”
“So he told me.”
“He did? When?”
“When I was coming on duty.”
“What did he want?”
“Just wanted to be sure you were a railroad dick” — Hoyler paused to grin — “so I told him you were. Gave you a good boost, Nubin. Said you’d once worked for the B and R, but changed to the Union Valley. Told him you were on the ladder — but I didn’t say whether you were going up or down.”
“More wise-cracks, eh? Well, if that yap with the tin star asks you anything more, tell him I came in on the Limited tonight and went out on the milk.”
“You’re taking Sixty-two?” questioned Hoyler, referring to the Dairy Express.
“Yeah,” replied Nubin, “and if you keep an eye out, I’ll show you how neat I can get aboard. Stick here on the platform when Sixty-two pulls out.”