More than once, The Shadow had eluded the police when they had arrived while he was investigating the scene of a crime. Tonight, he had done more than that. He had entered into open combat with an officer!
As Zull walked to police headquarters, he began to obtain a clear theory as to The Shadow’s purpose tonight.
Wherever mysterious crime occurred, The Shadow might decide to investigate. He could not have entered the room where Richard Harkness lay. The police had been the first to learn of the murder. Therefore, Zull decided, The Shadow had come to make his own observations.
With both Crowell and Devlin there, it would be useless for him to wait. So he had followed Zull, who had evidently learned facts that might be of interest.
Viewed in this light, Zull began to consider his defeat as a partial triumph. He had, at least, detected the fact that The Shadow was trailing him. Since he had noticed it once, he could discover it again.
Zull smiled grimly as he thought of what might occur in their next meeting. It would be a feather in his cap if he could unmask The Shadow!
Zull stopped in front of a small cigar store. From the doorway he glanced up and down the street.
Satisfied that The Shadow was no longer on his trail, he entered the store and went into a telephone booth. He obtained his number.
He spoke in a low voice. His first words were inaudible; as he concluded the conversation, his tone rose slightly and his final statement pertained to The Shadow.
“He’s a wise bird,” said Zull. “But there’s only one place he can get a lead — that’s from me; and he hasn’t done it. I’m going down to headquarters. I’m keeping mum until I’ve worked out a solution the way I want it.
“If The Shadow is trying to learn anything from Crowell and Devlin, he won’t have any luck. Crowell is a dumb mug, and Devlin is on the job too late.
“No matter how good The Shadow is, he’ll need a couple of days to get started on this Harkness murder. So everything is all jake.”
With that, he left the store, smiling broadly. Herbert Zull was the lone wolf of the detective force. He obtained results in his own way; he ignored assistance and resented interference.
He was secretive in his methods, using contacts which were unknown to his companions on the force. It was Zull’s boast that he could lay a snare for any man who crossed him.
He had met such a man tonight — The Shadow. They would meet again!
“Lying low,” muttered Zull, contemptuously, “that’s what he’s doing now! Pulled one on me when he got away. Nervy bird — The Shadow — except when he gets cold feet.
“Well, I’ll be ready for him. He’ll be back on my trail if he’s as clever as he’s supposed to be — and I’ll lead him everywhere — except where he wants to go!”
When Zull reached headquarters, he found a stack of reports awaiting him. He studied the statements made by Lester, by the housekeeper, and by others who had known Richard Harkness.
While he was thus engaged, his mind reverted to The Shadow. When he thought of that mysterious man, Zull pictured him hiding away in some dark room.
STRANGELY enough, Zull’s conjecture was not entirely wrong. At that very moment, The Shadow was immersed in the darkness of a room not many blocks from the house where the body of Richard Harkness lay.
But The Shadow was not there from fear. He, too, had work to do. As Zull began to inspect the reports more closely, The Shadow began an examination of his own.
There was a click in the dark room where The Shadow was wont to go alone. A low-hanging light threw its rays upon the surface of a polished table.
Two hands appeared there. They were long, slender hands; white hands, with tapering fingers. Upon the left hand glowed a peculiar gem — a rare fire opal that caught the rays of the light and reflected them from crimson depths.
This gem — a girasol — was The Shadow’s own talisman. Like him, it was mysterious, baffling and ever changing in its appearance.
Those finely shaped hands produced a sheet of paper and laid it upon the table. That paper told a story. It proved that Inspector Zull had missed his guess when he thought that The Shadow had overlooked the evidence which had been taken from the studio of Richard Harkness.
The paper was the top sheet of the pad which Zull had pocketed!
There were indentations in the paper — marks made by the pressure of a hard lead pencil. A small envelope came into view. The fingers opened it and a black substance poured upon the paper.
The fingers spread the finely ground powder over the surface of the sheet. A flick of the hand swept away all but a thin film of graphite. The marks showed plainly, now, like the tracing of carbon paper. Telltale marks!
Upon the paper was a partly finished sketch of a man. It was not enough to give a clew to his identity, for it showed only the head and shoulders, and a face hidden by a folded handkerchief that served as a mask.
But the paper showed something else — not quite so plain as the sketch. It revealed a rough diagram that indicated a flight of steps, a passageway, and a section of a wall.
The Shadow studied the diagram. He traced it upon a sheet of paper. Then his hands — they alone were visible beneath the light — began another diagram drawn from memory. It was a ground-floor plan of the old Galvin mansion.
The hands held the diagrams side by side. Their points of similarity were evident.
The plan which The Shadow had discovered from the telltale marks corresponded in its chief details with the ground floor of the building which The Shadow had visited — that night when Betty Mandell had seen him in Theodore Galvin’s study!
The hands were motionless. An invisible mind was at work in the gloom. A master brain was determining the significance of these diagrams that looked so much alike.
Then the light went out. A low, sinister laugh came from the darkness. It seemed a part of the room itself; the very walls seemed to join in that weird mockery.
The laugh died away. The room was silent. The Shadow was gone!
CHAPTER IX
A VAGUE feeling of terror swept over Betty Mandell back in the Galvin home, as she groped for the cord of the bed lamp. She found it and gasped with relief as the light clicked.
The illumination was comforting. Betty glanced about the bedroom, wondering now what had caused her sudden fright.
She felt that horror had awakened her — the horror of some impending danger. Tonight was terribly like that other night, when she had discovered the strange man in black on her visit to the study.
Betty reflected. Perhaps an instinctive dread of loneliness had oppressed her. She should not have come home tonight. In so doing, she had failed to obey Bob’s orders.
He had called her at Alice Wheeler’s that morning. She could remember his words distinctly.
She could also remember that his voice still sounded different from the voice that had been Bob Galvin’s. She could not forget that first telephone call — the night that Bob had arrived in New York.
It had been Betty’s intention to return home tonight. Bob had phoned to tell her not to come. Business was taking him from town, he had said. Hodgson had gone away.
Bob had spoken in a kindly manner when he referred to the faithful old servant. He had decided that Hodgson deserved a vacation. So he had sent him away on a trip South.
There was a new man to take Hodgson’s place while the old servant was gone. Briggs was the name of the substitute. But Briggs would also be away tonight. The house would be empty. So Bob had told Betty to wait until to-morrow.