“Have you talked with Inspector Klein?” Cardona asked. “He knows something about this—”
“I have held a discussion with Inspector Klein,” interrupted Weston, “and his views are in accord with mine. He has never accepted your view that The Shadow was an actual person.
“Nevertheless, Klein recognized your capability, and accepted your reports in a negative way. When I made it a definite issue with him, he admitted that the only logical viewpoint was the one which I hold.
“On that account, I decided to discuss the matter with you personally.”
“Suppose,” said Cardona, “that I run into another case in which The Shadow figures; that is” — he made a hasty correction — “a case in which I think The Shadow figures. What am I to do about it?”
“THAT is easily answered,” smiled the commissioner. “You will merely be dealing with a person unknown.
“If that person could be apprehended, you should make it your duty to capture him. If there should be no reason to make an arrest of the anonymous person, then take no action.
“Forget your preconceived notion that you are dealing with a mysterious individual who possesses a fantastic identity. However, I do not think that you will encounter the difficulty in the future.”
“Why, sir?”
“Because, Cardona, I have arranged to make a very valuable series of experiments. In going over your records, I find that your capability is unexcelled — so far as practical methods are concerned. Whatever theoretical ability you possess is chiefly intuitive.”
“I follow hunches,” said Cardona. “Is that what you mean?”
“Exactly,” resumed the commissioner warmly. “But you do not possess the faculty of analyzing those impressions. Usually, your practical methods come to your aid. But they have failed — and will always fail — when circumstances depend solely upon deductive reasoning.
“I do not hold to the opinion that theoretical reasoning is the proper method of combating crime. I do believe, however, that when baffling and unexplainable mysteries occur, the ideal detective must turn to deduction.
“Therefore, I intend to combine practice with theory. I have selected you as the practical man. I have also selected a man who should prove to be an excellent theorist.
“He is Professor Roger Biscayne, whose experiments in psychology have included an exhaustive study of the criminal mind.
“I do not consider Biscayne a detective; but I am positive that, as an analyst, he can produce remarkable results.
“I am withholding my experiment until some unusual crime occurs. Then I shall have Biscayne cooperate with you in its solution.”
As Weston finished speaking, he fancied that he saw resentfulness in Cardona’s eyes. The commissioner could understand it.
There was every reason why the detective should regard this scheme as a form of interference with his work. Weston, accordingly, made a definite effort to curb Cardona’s budding antagonism.
“You will understand,” he said, “that Professor Biscayne is not seeking publicity, nor is he desirous of taking credit that should rightfully belong to you.
“He agrees with me in the opinion that he will learn more from you than you could possibly learn from him. He will not be officially employed in this work.
“He has always commended the methods of professional detectives. I can safely predict that when Biscayne publishes his next book on psychology, his references to your work will add greatly to the fine reputation that you have already gained.”
The tone of the commissioner’s voice as well as his actual words were pleasing to Joe Cardona. They showed him that Ralph Weston would be a valuable friend in the future.
He realized that he held a high position in the new commissioner’s esteem, and that Weston’s power and influence could be used to advantage.
“I get your idea, commissioner,” said Cardona. “You can count on me. I’ll be glad to work with the professor. I’ve got plenty to learn — I find that out the older I get!
“If the professor can figure out where my hunches come from, it will please me plenty.”
“Excellent!” declared Weston. “I am glad that you like the plan. Should you encounter a crime that involves a mysterious, unknown individual, your contact with Biscayne will prove of advantage to you.
“Reverting to the matter of The Shadow, I want you to remember what I have said. Avoid references to such an uncertain quantity. The Shadow — as you have described him — can be regarded only as an impossibility!
“I shall instruct Inspector Klein to notify me of the first crime that seems well suited to my experiment.
“There is, at present, no case which calls for cooperation between yourself and Professor Biscayne. We may have to wait a considerable length of time.”
“Maybe not, commissioner,” declared Cardona suddenly.
The detective drew an envelope from his pocket. It had been cut open at the top. Cardona extracted a folded sheet of paper and passed it, with the empty envelope, across the desk.
THE envelope was addressed to police headquarters. It was typed in capital letters. Weston opened the sheet of paper and read the typed statement that appeared within:
IN MEMORY OF
S. H.
WHO DIED
LAST NIGHT
HE WAS THE FIRST
“When did this come in?” asked the commissioner, frowning at the document.
“Yesterday morning,” declared Cardona. “It was mailed night before last. Postmarked ten o’clock.”
“It looks like an ordinary crank note,” said Weston. “We get hundreds of them. Did any person with the initials ‘S. H.’ die two nights ago?”
“Not to my knowledge. We looked through the obituaries yesterday and today. There was no S. H. among them.”
“Then the letter is a hoax!”
“I’m not sure about that,” stated Cardona. “It’s different from the usual crank note. It makes no threats. It gives no warning. It carries no tip-off to any crime that is now being investigated.
“It is simply a statement of something that has happened. The last line is important. One person has died. Another death will follow — if the implication is correct.”
“What have you done about it?” Weston asked.
“Nothing — as yet. It may be a crank note, as you say. If it proves to be otherwise, we’ll investigate it. There’s only one chance in a hundred that the letter means anything, but I have a hunch that that one chance is going to hit.”
“A hunch,” repeated Weston slowly. “Well, Cardona, from what I have ascertained, you attach too much significance to hunches. I prefer to accept the ninety-nine, rather than the one.
“Nearly forty-eight hours have now elapsed since this letter was posted. You believe that it may be important; I believe that it is not. We shall see who is correct.”
Cardona felt a return of resentfulness as the commissioner tossed the letter and the envelope across the desk. He wisely veiled his feeling, but he did not like Weston’s attitude.
It had been a mistake to mention this letter, Cardona felt; and to argue the subject would only make his position worse. So he placed the paper in the envelope and pocketed it.
He looked glumly toward Weston. Before the commissioner had more to say, the telephone rang.
Weston answered the ring and passed the telephone to Cardona.
“Inspector Klein is calling,” he said. “I suppose he wants to speak to you, Cardona.”
The commissioner saw the detective’s eyes narrow as he received the message. There was eagerness in Cardona’s voice as he gave short, quick response to the words that he was hearing.
“I’ll be over right away!” said Cardona. “It’s five thirty, now. I’ll be there before six!”