A figure had appeared at the open doorway. Tall, black, and spectral, it had arrived at the moment of Garfield’s cry. Had either the assistant or the physician seen that form, they would have taken it for a ghoulish monster from another world, come to view the passing of a human life.
Silently, The Shadow had reached his destination. He had sought to prevent the death of Wycroft Dustin.
He came in time to witness the death of the man whom he had arrived to save.
Fate had tricked The Shadow. Wycroft Dustin had returned an hour early; he had stepped into the insidious trap which had been arranged for his doom.
The stone-floored laboratory; the kneeling men beside the inert form of the dead chemist; the brilliant lights shining from the little alcove which housed the workbench — these were the sights which The Shadow viewed.
The cloaked form stood motionless. Keen eyes surveyed the scene. No laugh came from hidden lips.
Grimly, The Shadow sought an explanation of Wycroft Dustin’s sudden and unfortunate demise.
When the physician arose and beckoned to Garfield to follow to the outer room, the spectral shape of The Shadow no longer stood on guard. The master of darkness had stepped away from view. Yet his presence still gave its sign.
A long splotch of blackness projected upon the floor of the outer room, coming from the doorway that led to the dingy stairs. The physician was using the telephone to call the police. The law would study the strange death of Wycroft Dustin.
After that, The Shadow’s turn would come. As in the case of Merle Clussig, The Shadow would seek for methods too subtle for Joe Cardona to detect.
CHAPTER IX. CLEWS ARE LINKED
DETECTIVE JOE CARDONA had arrived on the job. He was standing in Wycroft Dustin’s inner laboratory, turning his attention from the dead man to the living persons with whom he was speaking.
“What is your opinion, Doctor Gregory?” questioned the detective, turning to the physician who had seen Dustin die.
“Dustin died from a fever,” returned the doctor. “It was the most extraordinary case that I have ever witnessed. I had no opportunity to take his temperature. The symptoms, however, were obvious.”
A police surgeon who had arrived with Cardona voiced his agreement with Doctor Gregory’s statement.
The detective appeared puzzled.
“It looks like a case of natural death,” he decided.
“Natural, yes,” said Doctor Gregory, “but almost beyond belief. Unless Dustin already had an extraordinarily high temperature when he came into the laboratory, I cannot understand how it increased to such intensity within so short a space of time.”
“You saw him come in,” said Cardona to Garfield. “Did he seem ill at the time?”
“No,” replied the assistant. “He seemed a trifle annoyed, that was all. I was telling him about the junkman coming to get old bottles and beakers. I began to describe the fellow, and Mr. Dustin cut me short.”
Cardona, like Dustin, appeared to have no interest in the matter of the man who had come for bottles.
The detective was eyeing the alcove with its range of brilliant lights. He walked in that direction, and stood beside the workbench.
“It’s hot here,” was his comment. “Do you think that all of these lights could have had an effect on Dustin?”
“Not unless his temperature was already high,” returned Doctor Gregory. “The excessive heat could have added to his discomfort. It could not have produced a fever.”
“Mr. Dustin turned out two of the bulbs,” remarked Garfield. “Two were already burned out, and I had not replaced them because it was seldom that Mr. Dustin used all the lights.”
Joe Cardona clicked the individual switches of the different incandescents. As Garfield had stated, two were burned out. Cardona extinguished one of the illuminated bulbs, and produced a handkerchief which he used on his hand, while he removed the incandescent from the socket.
The detective walked from the warm alcove, and placed the bulb on a table. He saw that it was an ordinary article. The detective shook his head as he turned to the men about him.
“I shall make a report of Dustin’s death,” he stated. “I think it would be advisable to take the body to the morgue. From what you have said, Doctor Gregory, regarding the intensity of the man’s fever and the sudden death it produced, I shall make a study of Dustin’s past activities. It might be possible that this fever was put into his system before he came here tonight.”
“That is quite possible,” agreed Doctor Gregory.
Wycroft Dustin’s body was removed. The bright lights were extinguished. Garfield turned a switch in the outer room which plunged the entire laboratory in darkness. The men departed.
Joe Cardona had rejected any theory of death dealt in the laboratory.
SILENCE remained. Then came a faint swishing sound. Someone was in the laboratory. A form was coming from a small side room that adjoined the outer chamber. A tiny light flickered.
The Shadow had been stationed within hearing distance during the entire police investigation. His turn had arrived. He was going over the ground which Joe Cardona had rejected. The flickering disk of light approached the alcove.
A soft laugh whispered in the gloom. Even in the act of approach, The Shadow had made a discovery. It lay within the confines of the alcove.
One incandescent in the three-sided row was set at the edge of the alcove. It was least conspicuous of all. It could be seen only from within the alcove itself. This was one of the burned-out incandescents.
Here, in darkness, it produced a strange phenomenon.
Through the frosted surface of the bulb glowed the dim rays of a bluish light. The Shadow’s torch threw a steady flicker. The dull glow of the incandescent was no longer apparent. The Shadow’s light, however, revealed another fact.
Running down the inner corner of the alcove was a thin wire, visible only when viewed under the sharp light of the torch. This passed beneath the workbench, into a wooden box. The open top of the box showed only cotton waste and crumpled pieces of paper.
The Shadow’s light went out. The dead incandescent still showed its faint bluish glow. The hands of The Shadow drew the box from the alcove. The dull glimmer of the incandescent vanished. The Shadow’s light showed the cause; the removal of the box had disconnected that tiny wire which ran up to the row of lights.
Another matter manifested itself beneath the probing flashlight. The removal of the box had broken a connecting cord between the box and a floor plug under the bench. The cord remained, adhering to the wall socket.
The flashlight glimmered on the waste material in the box. The Shadow’s free hand removed the crumpled paper and the mass of cotton. Embedded in this useless material was a square electrical transformer, constructed of black-painted metal.
The Shadow laughed. He knew the answer. He could reconstruct exactly what had happened. A man had come to collect old bottles and beakers. That man had brought some boxes with him. Garfield had aided him to pack up the junk.
Garfield, however, had not been watchful. The supposed junkman had accomplished a purpose other than the collection of old bottles.
During convenient moments, probably when Garfield had unthinkingly gone to the outer laboratory to look for more old bottles, the insidious visitor had placed this special box beneath the workbench.
He had plugged its projecting cord into the wall socket. He had run its special wire up to the row of incandescents. He had inserted what appeared to be a burned-out bulb in the end of the row.
Rising, The Shadow turned his flashlight’s rays upon the incandescent which was now dead. He unscrewed the bulb from its socket. The little wire dropped, almost unnoticeably, to the floor.