Like a diver plunging from a high board, The Shadow had suffered no ill consequences. He had let his adversaries take the brunt of the fall. His cloak was twisted about his tall frame; the brim of the slouch hat was jammed down low upon his forehead.
With a laugh that faded in a moment, The Shadow gazed toward the stairs down which he had come.
Men were strewn all along, from Grady, near the top, to the last of the five at the bottom. Only one was capable of prompt action; that was Grady, who was gripping his revolver as he regained his balance by the banister.
The chief detective raised his gun, believing that the moving figure in the black would form a target on its way toward the front door. The Shadow, however, did not take that path. Swinging, he headed into a side room on the ground floor. Grady fired three shots toward his fleeting form.
The other detectives were gaining their feet. Bruised, shaken, but capable of action, they scrambled down the steps, regaining their guns. The only one who failed to join this pursuit of The Shadow was the man who lay at the foot of the stairs. He was still dazed from the fall.
The Shadow had gained a precious start over the three who were following him. With his object purely to leave his identity a mystery, and the purpose of his visit a matter known only to Julius Selwick, The Shadow had headed for the outer darkness.
As the three detectives reached the porch outside of Selwick’s home, they saw no sign of their sable-clad assailant. But, to their ears came the sound of strident mockery — a fanfare of mirth that rippled weirdly across the darkened lawn.
Off on a fool’s chase, the detectives hurried toward the spot from which they believed the laugh had come. A hopeless effort was theirs. They were seeking The Shadow — the man who could merge with night!
CHAPTER XV. BOLD FINGERS
AFTER he had fired futilely toward the vanishing form of The Shadow, Chief Detective Howard Grady stood grimly at the head of the stairs. His men had taken up the chase. Well behind them, unable to take the lead, Grady hesitated momentarily. He heard a voice speaking from the top of the stairs. He turned to see Julius Selwick.
“We didn’t get him, director,” informed Grady. “Three of the boys are after him, though. Maybe they’ll catch him. Who was he?”
“I don’t know,” vouchsafed Selwick. “Some fanatic I suppose. He came here to threaten me with a gun. I pulled my revolver and fired at him. That was when he fled.”
The chief detective nodded, and made a move as though to descend the steps. Selwick stopped him with a hasty protest.
“You’d better stay here, Grady,” he said. “I’m going back into my room. Come on up — I want to talk with you.”
Grady nodded. He realized that Selwick must have undergone a startling ordeal, and that it would be best for him to stay. Grady was too late, now, to help in the pursuit. However, he pointed out the man who was lying on the floor at the foot of the steps.
“Maddox looks sort of dazed,” explained Grady. “I’d better see how he is. I’ll be right up, director.”
As Grady descended the stairs to give first aid to the fallen detective, Julius Selwick went back into his little office. He stood beside his desk, and chewed his puffy lips as he recalled the strange encounter with The Shadow.
Who was this accusing being in black? Why had he come here like a specter from the past? Had his words held an important meaning? Did a real menace exist — a murderer whose cunningness surpassed belief?
Selwick was incredulous. He thought of Hurley Adams and wondered if the old lawyer was at large tonight. In Selwick’s mind, Adams was responsible entirely for these crimes. That did not annoy the safety director. He believed that Adams had killed off the conspirators one by one, leaving him to last.
Selwick considered himself too difficult a case for Adams to handle.
Until The Shadow had appeared, Selwick had believed himself immune from attack. Now he was determined to run no further risk. He would have to put a man to cover Adams — for it was possible, Selwick believed, that the old lawyer might have accomplices.
THE SHADOW’S visit here would be sufficient pretext to lull Chief Detective Grady. Selwick’s life had been threatened by a fanatic. Selwick would require a bodyguard. He could also express a fear for the safety of other persons in town, and thus have men trail Adams and a few others — using the latter as blinds so that Grady would not become suspicious.
Furthermore, Selwick decided, he could force Grady to concentrate upon the events which had happened here tonight, thus keeping the chief detective off the trail of the deaths which he believed were murders.
Staring at his desk, Selwick saw a newspaper, and he recalled an item that he had read in it to-day.
Demolition of the old bank building was already under way. The bank president had mentioned the matter of the cornerstone. He had stated that its contents would be placed on exhibit as a matter of interest to the public.
The historical record! It would be common property then! Julius Selwick felt convinced that the secret of the fourth paragraph could be known only to himself and one other living man — Hurley Adams!
Selwick smiled and moved along the side of the desk. As earlier this evening, something prompted him to look up. This time he stared in the direction of the side door — and there he spied a sight that chilled him as completely as had the arrival of The Shadow.
Just within the range of light was a hand. It held a revolver, and the long, clutching fingers of that hand filled Julius Selwick with heartrending fear. They were fingers of death!
The index finger lay upon the trigger of the gun. The muzzle of the weapon loomed tunnel-like before Selwick’s eyes. He was covered by the revolver. His cause was hopeless. With a pitiful gasp, Selwick stared above the gun to see a dim face in the hall beyond.
The hand moved forward as a man moved into the light. A gasp of horror sprang to Selwick’s lips. In a flash, he recognized this potential murderer. In the same instant, Selwick realized the wisdom of The Shadow’s words.
The black-garbed visitant had brought him genuine warning — an opportunity to uncover a criminal so insidious that only a superman could have guessed the craft that the fiend possessed!
The words of Hurley Adams were fleeting through Selwick’s mind. The old lawyer, knowing well that all conspirators would have preserved their secret, had called that meeting. Risbey had died. Now Selwick was facing death. Only Adams would remain!
Regrets were too late. As Julius Selwick leaped forward, crying forth the name of the man who confronted him, the revolver spoke in a single roar. The safety director sprawled forward, and rolled over at the feet of the man who had slain him.
The murderer chuckled as he moved back into darkness. Fingers of death had done their work again.
The Shadow had come to warn Selwick, and to make terms with him. Even then, the murderer had been lurking in the darkness of the side stairway.
HAD Selwick listened to The Shadow, his life would have been safe. But Selwick’s precipitous action, his own attempt to kill The Shadow, had forced the man of the night to make a swift departure. The very detectives whom Selwick had summoned to serve as a secret bodyguard had issued forth on a fool’s errand, in pursuit of a personage whom they could never trap.
Their departure had been the murderer’s opportunity. Julius Selwick lay slain. His name would be added to the list of those who had died in Holmsford. Josiah Bartram — Maurice Pettigrew — Arthur Preston — Ernest Risbey — now, Julius Selwick.
Only one man was anxious to cry out the belief that a single murderer was responsible for those deaths.
That man was Chief Detective Howard Grady. He was already rushing to the spot where this newest crime had occurred. While helping Maddox, the chief detective had heard the shot from Selwick’s room.