The Shadow’s free hand shot forward and ripped the hair and beard from the monster’s face. Joe Cardona, staring, gasped in amazement as he recognized the features of the man whom The Shadow had named — Cuthbert Challick!
The truth was plain. Challick had posed as a future victim of Mox, the murderer. He had come boldly to Joe Cardona. He had given testimony to support Joel Neswick. He had signaled to Sulu to slay Hoyt Wyngarth. His effort to save the doomed man had been a dramatic pretense.
Joe Cardona, still half dazed, groped amid his errors. Pride, not falsity, had governed Junius Tharbel. The county detective had slain Sulu not to get rid of a wounded henchman, as Cardona had thought, but to actually stop a fleeing murderer. His explanation of the dog’s friendliness had been correct.
But Cuthbert Challick! Cardona understood. The cowering of the slinking dog, its immediate retirement to a corner; those were the signs of a real but brutal master. The dog had growled at others, but not at Cuthbert Challick! Tense seconds had passed, then came the counter move. It was so rapid that Cardona did not realize what happened until the action was finished. With a fiendish snarl, Cuthbert Challick snapped his right hand from beneath the table edge, swinging his revolver directly toward The Shadow.
A ROAR resounded through the secret room. Quick though Challick was, he could not match his hand swing against the finger pressure of The Shadow. The burst of flame that accompanied the roar was delivered from the muzzle of The Shadow’s automatic. Cuthbert Challick sprawled upon the desk; then rolled to the floor and lay still. He had made his last move.
The Shadow turned to Joe Cardona. The detective was half seated, with his hands propping his body behind him. A black glove whisked from The Shadow’s left hand. Cardona stared, fascinated, as he viewed the gleaming girasol on The Shadow’s finger.
The jewel went from sight as The Shadow brought the keys from Cardona’s vest. Stooping, the being in black released the detective’s wrists. Cardona staggered to his feet. He made his way toward the anteroom, with its open panel. The path was safe; the trap had risen automatically.
Cardona pressed the outer panel and found that it opened readily from the inside. He turned as he reached the corridor, holding the panel open. He stared as he saw The Shadow stooping within the fireplace. The lever clattered to the hearth. The Shadow laughed with bursting triumph. The floor of the secret room began to rise.
The wall blocked Cardona’s view. It kept moving up — up — up — until a crunching of woodwork and ruined furniture told of the finale which Mox had planned. Mox the superfiend was already dead. And now his body was crushed.
Thus came the end of Cuthbert Challick, the inventor who had sought wealth through the murder of men whose plans he stole.
Joe Cardona let the panel fall. He went downstairs. He passed the bodies of the gunmen whom The Shadow had conquered in a swift, fair fray — a lone hand against three. The cool air of night was reviving to Joe Cardona.
As the detective paused, breathing deeply, he heard a weird sound that came as a ghostly cry from the summit of the old house. The sibilant tones of a sinister laugh swept forth in triumphant merriment.
The triumph laugh of The Shadow! The victorious cry of the superbeing who had deferred the stroke of doom!
It was The Shadow’s knell above the tomb of Mox!
CHAPTER XXIII
CARDONA LEARNS
JOE CARDONA aroused Junius Tharbel that very night. He told his story of his visit to the house of Mox, but he said nothing of the identity of the mysterious stranger who had helped him.
Joe claimed to have been groggy all the while.
Junius Tharbel listened, but the county detective held his doubts. The morrow, however, produced the evidence. Cardona demanded an investigation of the chimney. The shaft was explored. The loose lever was replaced. The real secret room was brought down.
The broken body of Cuthbert Challick was discovered. Thousands of dollars in currency was recovered from the room. Records were taken from broken drawers and book cases. The full details of Mox’s schemes were learned.
Investigation of the death pit enabled Cardona and Tharbel to uncover the bodies of those whom Mox had sent to doom. Peter Greerson and six other inventors were identified.
Irving Salbrook, when he learned of the death of Mox, told how he had lived at the house guised as the old man when Cuthbert Challick had been absent. He had not known of the secret room, but he, like Hoyt Wyngarth, had been intimidated by the fiend.
Sulu had used the cupboard to keep watch on Salbrook during his stays at the house. The death of Schuyler Harlew had broken Salbrook’s nerve. He, like Hoyt Wyngarth, had been afraid to speak.
To Joe Cardona, however, one important fact remained unsolved. The star detective admitted — to himself, alone — that he had been grievously mistaken. He had built up a case against Junius Tharbel, and had thought that the county detective was Mox; but, worse than that, Cardona had been positive that Cuthbert Challick was The Shadow!
THAT was why he had discussed his plans in Challick’s presence. He had tried to inform The Shadow; his visit to Tharbel’s had been to inform Mox! Cardona did not know how The Shadow had really learned of what was in the air. He did not suspect that Clyde Burke was The Shadow’s agent.
Joe Cardona remained in Darport for several days, and all the while he still wondered. He remembered the note placed in his pocket; the profile on the floor of Tharbel’s office. He puzzled over the problem of The Shadow’s identity during the progress of this case.
The day before his departure from Darport, Cardona accompanied Junius Tharbel on a trip to Hollis Harman’s hunting lodge. Cardona and Tharbel were now the best of friends. Harman, a smile on his pudgy face, welcomed them into his place.
“Note from a friend of yours, Cardona,” remarked Harman. “Congratulations, I suppose, on your great work in this case.”
Cardona stared as he opened the envelope which Harman gave him. Inside, he found a brief note, with it, a calling card. The note was a brief congratulation; its writing faded mysteriously as Joe Cardona finished reading it.
Cardona looked at the card. He stared blankly. He read the name more closely:
WADE HOSTH.
Harman’s friend at the lodge! The extra huntsman who had been with Junius Tharbel so often during the days when Mox had been sought. The silent man who had watched everything, but who had said nothing!
The Dalmatian, stretched beside the hearth, looked up as Cardona sat down near by it. The dog was friendly to strangers now. It had been adopted by Junius Tharbel. The county detective was keeping it at Harman’s lodge.
Joe Cardona did not notice the dog. His eyes were on the card in his hand. The light began to dawn. Drawing a pencil from his pocket, Joe Cardona marked down the fourth letter of Wade Hosth’s last name. Then the last letter of the last name; the last letter of the first.
A space. Cardona put down an S, the middle letter of Hosth; then the first letter of the same name. He followed by placing the other letters, until his task was complete.
Letter for letter, a perfect anagram, the name of Wade Hosth declared the title of the superman who had used that pseudonym to answer for the identity which he had assumed.
There, in Cardona’s own printing, appeared the name of the mighty being who had ended the insidious career of Mox. Cardona read it with silent, moving lips:
THE SHADOW.