When this occurred, the massive mansion showed as a towered pile of gray. The waters of the Hudson shimmered far below. Then rolling clouds swathed all in blackness. Only the dull lamps of first-story rooms gave indication of persons in the house.
One lingering flicker of moonlight formed a patch on Uhler’s lawn. It showed a gliding shade of blackness upon the whitened grass. It might have been the trace of a moving tree branch or the sign of a straggling cloud across the moon.
Darkness again. A soft swish sounded where the moving shade had been. The sound faded, unheard.
Yet that faint token betold the presence of a living being. The Shadow, silent and unseen, was circling the lower side of the great mansion.
The Shadow paused close to the clustered trees. Two sounds reached his keen ears. The first was that of a form moving stealthily along the grass. A snakelike figure stopped short, as a dim trace of moonlight threatened to disclose him.
It was Valdo. The Shadow, watching, observed the gypsy’s outline. The crawling had ceased: Valdo, like The Shadow, was listening to the other sound — a vague muttering, from the cluttered evergreens.
“We’ll take the front door.” The growl was Marty Lunk’s. “Three of you go in the big window on this side” — he meant the dining room — “and cut in on them while we’re smashing through.
“But that door ain’t going to hold us long. Not the way I’ll handle it. We’ll smear those mugs before they know what’s up.”
“How soon are we movin’?” came a query.
“See that window high up?” responded Marty. “That’s the strongroom. Maybe Uhler is going in there tonight. We’re waiting to see if the light comes on. If it does, we wait about ten minutes to make sure he’s staying there.”
“If it don’t come on?”
“Then we start when some of those downstairs lights go out. But we ain’t waiting long for either to happen. We’ll blow the strongroom if it ain’t open—”
Splotchy moonlight was showing. Valdo was lying low. The Shadow, however, was in motion. His tall shape made a flickering blot as it sidled toward the house. The phantom was swallowed in the darkness of the building.
CLOSE to the walls, The Shadow reached the upper side of Hampton Uhler’s home. Here at the rear corner, was a jutting bastion of curving stone; its top a lookout room that commanded the river.
This was the spot that The Shadow had chosen for his entry. Mobsters were watching the lower side of the large building; two gypsies — the Czigany — were close by the veranda on the upper side.
The front door was a marked spot. But this one point, unwatched and unchosen, gave the seclusion that The Shadow wanted. Moreover, its very impregnability made it vulnerable. A window — high on the third floor — such was The Shadow’s goal. The master of the night knew that none within the house would ever suspect an entry at that opening.
Suction cups were unneeded. The Shadow used them on smooth surfaces. Here was roughened stone that offered firm hold for hands and feet. Concealed in the darkness, The Shadow began the ascent. His unseen form neared the window.
Then came the unexpected. Clouds, rolling apart, revealed the moon. Clear light bathed the upper side of the stone building. Grayish walls were as plain as by day. Upon that instant, The Shadow’s form came into full sight. Monstrous, batlike, it formed the outline of a weird, unearthly creature!
A muffled gasp came from the shrubbery near the veranda. One of the Czigany clutched his companion’s arm. Wildly, he pointed to that spectral shape that showed so clearly in the moonlight.
“Vourdalak!” The man’s lips quavered. “Vourdalak!”
The Shadow’s arms were moving. Spreading, as they reached toward the window, they appeared like the hovering wings of a monster about to fly. His head turned. Peering downward, The Shadow’s eyes showed the gleam of the moonlight. They were burning coals to the frightened gypsies.
The moonlight faded, obscuring the shape upon the wall. The Shadow’s strong arm forced the window.
His figure entered. Another splash of moonlight — it no longer showed that spectral shape. Instead, it revealed the Czigany dashing madly from their hiding place, back toward the trees where the band was waiting.
A weird laugh sounded in the tower room. The Shadow peering toward the side lawn, knew what had happened. Trapped by the moonlight, he had made those sweeping, batlike gestures, knowing that the Czigany, should they see, would be alarmed.
The fleeing men had reached the trees. They were blubbering to their startled companions. Words in the gypsy tongue:
“On the wall. High above. Vourdalak! We have seen it! Vourdalak!”
“Vourdalak!” Frightened tongues took up the gasp. “Vourdalak! You have seen!” Then, from other lips came the added words: “Nosferadu! Vampyr! Vampyr!”
Gripped by superstition, these gypsies had taken The Shadow for a vampire. The Czigany — to whom the legends of Eastern Europe were most real — had brought the word of the monstrous creature.
To them, Uhler’s mansion had become as terrible as a ruined castle in the Transylvanian mountains; one of those fabled spots where dwelt the dead who lived! Panic had gripped the gypsy band. Stumbling through the darkness, Valdo’s henchmen began their retreat.
BACK by the veranda, a slinking man was prowling through the shrubbery. It was Valdo. Temporary darkness had given him the chance to return hither. It was half past nine — the time set by Rodney Casper.
Valdo’s low voice spoke. There was no answer. The gypsy realized that the Czigany had left their post.
A match flickered. Valdo saw trampled shrubbery, the evidence of a mad flight.
Alone, the gypsy could do nothing. He had but one course. Despite the flickering moonlight, the gypsy dashed across the lawn. His hope was to over-take the fleeing band; to learn the reason for the departure of the Czigany.
Another laugh from the tower room. The Shadow had seen Valdo. He knew that the gypsy had a task ahead. The rallying of the frightened band would require many minutes. The gypsies had been eliminated for the time. But one band of waiting raiders now remained.
Marty Lunk and his mobsters. They were watching from the evergreens below the mansion. From those trees came a growl. A light had flashed in the room upon the second floor. Someone had entered Hampton Uhler’s strongroom.
Waiting gorillas muttered their readiness. Marty restrained his crew. He wanted ten minutes for matters in the house to settle. Then his attack would come. Such was the situation without the walls of Hampton Uhler’s castlelike mansion.
Within — The Shadow. His laugh still throbbing in the tower room, the master who had scaled the wall was planning his next action. There had been no evidence of a signal from Rodney Casper. It was half past nine — the time that Casper had set.
Such was the situation of those who had come by dark. The gypsies had been routed. The mobsters were in readiness. The Shadow had gained his first objective. But there was another who had advanced still further. Rodney Casper had reached the goal that he sought.
THE young man was standing by a table in the center of a square-walled room. Against the further wall, Hampton Uhler was turning the combination of a heavy safe. Barred windows were in evidence; the outer door was closed. Host and guest were alone in Hampton Uhler’s strongroom.
Casper had gained Uhler’s confidence. The millionaire had brought him here to see the Spanish gems.
The door of the safe swung open while Casper watched. Uhler’s huge shoulders hunched as the big man staggered back, bringing a box of heavy metal.