“On that account, they were shipped without their labels. Breck would have known what they were. Maybe it’s a brand that hasn’t been named yet. The point is, a lot of canned goods don’t have anything to do with murder.”
Nubin seemed satisfied with his theory. Foray, after removing most of the cans and replacing them, began to nod his agreement. Zach Hoyler was on the point of making comment; he changed his mind when he saw that he would probably be over-ruled. He went back into the ticket office when Foray started to nail up the box.
Perry Nubin came from the baggage room. He strolled out through the station and reached the platform. The local was about due. The detective saw two more passengers in addition to the tall personage who had bought the ticket and obtained the time tables.
The local clanged into the station. Boarding the rear car, Nubin looked for the passengers. He saw two of them getting on the train. The tall stranger was not in view. Nubin supposed that he was the first aboard. As the local pulled out, the railroad dick waved to the sheriff and the station agent. They had come out of the waiting room. He saw them turn back in as the local neared the bend.
Despite the quickening speed of the local, the detective bounded across the platform and hung from the opposite steps. He swung clear, landed on the ground beside the tracks and went staggering forward until he sprawled on the embankment. Grinning, he arose and dusted his clothes. Cautiously, he crossed the tracks, threw a glance toward the station; then took to the lower side of the embankment.
PERRY NUBIN was positive that his deeds had not been witnessed. He did not know the tall stranger of the ticket room had failed to board the local. Shrouded in darkness, that personage was standing by the station. Staring keenly toward the bend, The Shadow glimpsed the vague figure of the railroad dick as Nubin scurried across the tracks.
TIM FOREY had come in a car driven by a deputy. He and Zach Hoyler took the box from the baggage room and loaded it aboard. The car started toward the road that led to Breck’s. Zach Hoyler came back into the station. The Shadow moved off into the darkness.
His course was toward the clearing where he had parked the autogiro. From there, The Shadow intended to communicate with Burbank; then to move forth on a new and important mission. Darkness swallowed the swiftly-gliding figure.
AT the Breck house, Harry Vincent was seated in the living room. The Shadow’s agent was oblivious to the music that came from the radio. He was pondering upon cryptic thoughts that had gripped him during the entire day.
The Shadow’s message! It had been revealing in part; yet mysterious as well. It had given Harry inklings concerning the truth of crime. It had included instructions which Harry intended to carry out to the letter, yet which puzzled him to a considerable degree.
The door bell rang. Craven answered it. Sheriff Forey strode in; he nudged toward the door. Craven went out and reappeared helping the deputy lug in the square box. At Forey’s order, Craven went upstairs and summoned Elbert Breck, who was in his room.
When the heir arrived, Forey indicated the box and mentioned that it had come for Grantham Breck. He ordered Elbert to open it. Craven produced a hatchet, Elbert set to work in nervous fashion. He acted as though this unexpected shipment worried him. Harry watched Craven as well as Elbert. The butler was solemn; standing as still as a stone statue.
“Canned goods!” exclaimed Elbert, when he had pried open the box. “They must have been shipped by some friend who did not know that my father had died!”
“It might have been an order, sir,” put in Craven. “Mr. Breck was in the habit of storing away food-stuffs.”
“Did he ever get canned goods without labels?” quizzed Forey.
“I believe he did, sir,” recalled Craven. “Small shipments, as I recall them. Most of the goods had labels, though. I cannot give positive information, however.”
“Why not?”
“He always placed the canned goods in the custody of the cook. It was her province, sir.”
“Where’s the cook now?”
“Adele, sir? I believe she has retired. But she could tell you nothing, sir. It was the old cook — Martha — who worked here when those previous shipments came to Mr. Breck.”
“I see.” The sheriff appeared satisfied with the explanation. “Well — I’m going back to town. Come on, Hank.”
Craven began to unpack the canned products and take them into the kitchen. Elbert Breck strolled into the living room with Harry Vincent. Lighting his pipe, the heir slouched into an easy chair. Like Harry, he listened to the radio while Craven finished unpacking the cans and went upstairs.
TEN thirty. A musical program ended. The radio was tuned in on Station WNX. The voice of an announcer came over the air. Steady in tone, it carried a slight emphasis on certain words.
“‘If’ you give ‘any’ tobacco this ‘one’ test,” came the announcement, “you will learn that ripened ‘leaves’ alone can ‘capture’ the full tobacco flavor. Talk to an old smoker. Ask ‘him’ his opinion. ‘Put’ the test to ‘him’. He will tell you that ‘in’ his experience, the best ‘smoke’ is the product of Lowden Brothers, the oldest tobacco ‘house’ in Virginia; the makers of Old Dominion Burley.”
Elbert Breck was oblivious to the radio. But Harry Vincent, listening placidly, caught every word that had been emphasized. To him, the announcer’s speech conveyed a hidden message, told by those stressed words:
“If anyone leaves, capture him. Put him in the smoke house.”
Harry already knew that The Shadow had planned to move tonight. Harry’s own part had been outlined; but this final order was needed. Harry knew that The Shadow must have communicated with Burbank; through some contacts, the master sleuth had arranged for that announcement to go over the air from WNX.
Harry had received orders of this type in the past. He knew that The Shadow must already be operating on his own; otherwise, he would have delivered this final message through Harry’s window. Faring abroad, The Shadow was planning to frustrate the band of thugs headed by Spike Balgo.
To Harry Vincent, The Shadow had entrusted the duty of preventing a move from the Breck house. Harry was alert. Tonight, he was determined to give the aid upon which The Shadow relied.
CHAPTER XVIII
FOES IN THE DARK
TEN minutes after the announcement from Station WNX, Elbert Breck went upstairs to bed. Craven had already retired; Harry Vincent was positive that the servant was on the third floor. Going to his own room, The Shadow’s agent seated himself beside the little table.
Here, Harry began to write. He used an ordinary pen tonight — not the one that carried the disappearing ink. Carefully choosing his words, he phrased a brief account of certain things that he had noted during his stay at this house.
There were items that Harry omitted; there were others — a bit puzzling to him — that he included. Harry’s report was partially his own and partially The Shadow’s. In writing it, Harry utilized certain statements that were implanted in his mind. They were suggested phrases that had come in The Shadow’s message.
His task completed, Harry folded the note and sealed it in the envelope. He wrote the name of Sheriff Tim Forey on the outside. This epistle was to be delivered to that official, by order of The Shadow. The delivery would follow after Harry had performed his first duty.
In a sense, Harry Vincent understood what was going on. He knew that trouble was brewing on the hill. The Shadow would take care of events up there. But behind the scheme lay a hidden hand. Someone — a big shot — was in back of the game.