“All right, Joe. I’ll keep away from the old house.”
“When I get there,” resumed Cardona, “I’ll meet Mox. I’ll get him; he won’t get me. We’ll find out who Mox is, after I’m through with him.”
“But how,” questioned Challick thoughtfully, “can you give Mox the idea that you’ll be there?”
“Leave that to me,” laughed Cardona. “He’ll find out quick enough, if he’s anywhere around. I’ve spoken in confidence. Don’t say anything to any one. There’s only one other whom I intend to see about this matter.”
“Junius Tharbel?” questioned Clyde Burke.
“Yes,” replied Cardona. “I’ll speak to him when he shows up from the hunting lodge. He’s due in this evening. I’ll get his permission to visit the old house. Just a matter of formality, you know. Courtesy.”
“Suppose he refuses?”
“He won’t.”
“Maybe he’ll want to go with you.”
“Not a chance. He’ll laugh at me. But I’ll have the last laugh before I’m through.”
“Cardona,” said Neswick seriously, “I’m going out on the next train. I’ll have to hurry to make it. I’m glad you told me about this. Do you actually know who Mox is?”
“I ought to know,” returned Cardona wisely. “I’m a detective. Sometimes very obvious things escape notice. Some detectives are not logical. Take Tharbel, for instance. He figured the dog test was great stuff at first; afterward, he said it was only good when it worked with Hoyt Wyngarth.”
Clyde Burke’s lips parted. The reporter restrained the words that he was about to utter. Instead, he turned to both Neswick and Challick.
“Cardona is a keen fellow,” he explained, “and he has tact. I see his point. It doesn’t do to throw accusations — particularly when they involve a person of importance. We’ll let the matter rest for a while. Wait until he meets Mox.”
Neswick nodded and went back to his packing. Challick strolled from the room. He spoke to Cardona after he had passed the door.
“I expect to take the evening train,” he said. “We can dine together — you and I and Burke.”
“All right,” agreed Cardona, “but mum will be the word from now on.”
“Absolutely.”
NESWICK took his early train. Challick and Burke joined Cardona at dinner. Afterward, the inventor went up to pack. Burke offered to drive him to the station in the coupe. Challick thanked him, but said that he had already summoned a cab.
After Challick’s departure, Cardona said that he intended to call on Tharbel. Burke offered to drive him there. This invitation was accepted. They reached Tharbel’s house, and went in to see the county detective.
Tharbel seemed rather surprised to see the visitors. His hatchet face hardened. Nevertheless, he assumed a friendly attitude.
“Thought that you fellows would be gone,” he said, “now that this Mox business is ended.”
“It’s not ended,” returned Cardona seriously. “I believe that we’ve missed an important bet. The old house.”
“It’s been searched from top to bottom!” exclaimed Tharbel. “You saw the secret rooms that we uncovered. This is a ridiculous idea, Cardona.”
“The house is unguarded now,” affirmed Cardona. “I want to be there at midnight.”
“You don’t believe that Wyngarth was Mox?”
“I’m not saying that,” returned Cardona, wisely appeasing Tharbel’s wrath. “I just figured that there may be something we don’t know about. Maybe the answer can be found at midnight — when the place is empty.”
“You’re crazy,” decided Tharbel.
“Maybe,” said Cardona calmly. “Just the same, I’d like to go there. I’m here to ask your permission to do so.”
“Is that all? Go right ahead. Maybe you’ll find some spooks in the place. Take a look upstairs. Go through the place all you want.”
“Thanks,” said Cardona, rising. “How was the hunting?”
“Punk,” growled Tharbel. “Fatty Harman wants me to come back again tomorrow, but I guess I’ve had enough. Wade Hosth pulled out this afternoon, too. Say — just a minute. Are you taking Burke along with you tonight?”
“No.”
“All right, then. You can go to the place, as a police officer. The risk is yours. But I don’t want any reporters or others around the place. The State troopers might just happen to drop in for a final inspection. Your badge will make it all right for you, but the State police are strict, and it might mean trouble for any one else.”
Joe Cardona and Clyde Burke departed. The reporter was thoughtful as they rode back to the inn. He had called Burbank before dinner. He had received instructions to be on hand at the inn. Clyde wanted to be alone in case of another call.
“Think I’ll nap to midnight,” remarked Cardona. It was just the break that Clyde Burke wanted. “I’ve got an alarm clock, and I’ll set it for quarter of twelve. I’ll walk to the old house, Burke. Remember — you’re out of this.”
“I’m not going there,” Clyde assured the detective. “I’ll be turning in by nine o’clock myself.”
It was nine when the two reached the Darport Inn. They parted, and each man went to his room. The two were located on the third floor.
Joe Cardona smiled as he set his alarm clock for quarter of twelve. He placed the clock beside the bed, and lay down to think. He was ready for tonight’s adventure.
For Joe Cardona’s hunch was working to perfection. He was positive that he knew how matters lay. His conversations, first with Burke and the inventors; second, with Junius Tharbel had been delivered with a subtle purpose.
Joe Cardona knew that his intentions for tonight had certainly reached two persons. One was The Shadow. The other was Mox. Joe had arranged his actions so that both would know; and he was sure that he had succeeded.
At midnight, Cardona reflected, he would keep an unscheduled appointment with the murderer, Mox. When the fatal hour struck, The Shadow would be there!
CHAPTER XX
BEFORE MIDNIGHT
IT was half past nine. The telephone bell rang in Clyde Burke’s room. The reporter answered it promptly. He spoke his name into the mouthpiece. The voice that came through the receiver brought a chill to his spine, so sinister was its whisper.
“Report.”
Tensely, Clyde Burke told of the visit that he and Joe Cardona had paid to Junius Tharbel’s home. Clyde had already reported to Burbank the conversation that had taken place in Joel Neswick’s room, when Cuthbert Challick was also present.
“Instructions.”
Clyde Burke listened intently.
“Blink lights in your own room to signal Cardona’s departure,” came The Shadow’s voice. “Once. If departure is delayed, twice. If you should discover Cardona gone, three times.”
The receiver clicked at the other end. Clyde Burke knew that the call had been a local one. The Shadow was somewhere close at hand.
The instructions concerning the blinking of the lights was merely an indication of The Shadow’s thoroughness. Clyde Burke was sure that Cardona’s alarm clock would give him the news that the detective had awakened. After that, he would surely see the detective leave.
ENFOLDING night had wrapped its inky blackness over Darport. Away from the town lights, the old house of Mox stood silent and deserted. Yet it did not lack a living presence. An hour after Clyde Burke had received The Shadow’s call, a strange figure crept noiselessly into the shelter of the old building.
Up to the roof of the shed, then to the roof of the house. There was no moon. The Shadow’s ascending form did not even make a moving splotch. There was no hesitation in The Shadow’s climb. The ascent was easy, and there was no easing of the left arm, which had now regained its full strength.