Arnaud extended his hand to Von Werndorff, and the dirigible commander received it. The American turned and left the salon.
Von Werndorff remained thoughtful. With chin in hand, he did not realize that Arnaud’s sharp gaze had caught his immediate reaction.
IT was coincidence, Von Werndorff felt sure, that had brought this man aboard the Munchen as a passenger. Arnaud’s remarks could have been nothing more than a friendly revelation of the past. In this surmise, the commander was correct.
But Von Werndorff made the mistake of discounting his own reactions. He did not realize that his stern face, by its betrayal of emotions, had spoken to Henry Arnaud as effectively as if words had been uttered. Here, above the United States, speeding toward the end of the oceanic flight, Henry Arnaud had gained the remarkable suspicion that there was a mystery aboard this airship!
After he left the main salon, the commander of the Munchen still felt a trace of uneasiness. He went into his cabin and consulted a passenger list. He learned the number of Henry Arnaud’s cabin — 28. Passing along the narrow central corridor, Von Werndorff paused at the door which bore that number.
He satisfied himself that all was quiet within. Henry Arnaud had evidently retired.
With only a slight apprehension remaining, Von Werndorff continued along the corridor.
As he walked toward the rear of the great gondola, something happened behind him. The door of Henry Arnaud’s cabin opened, and a pair of gleaming eyes watched the commander’s course.
Those eyes saw Captain von Werndorff pause beside a bulkhead on the left, and listen there intently. When the commander came back along the corridor, Henry Arnaud was no longer watching him.
Smoothly, the Munchen plowed on through the night. Within Cabin 28, Henry Arnaud stood by the door, listening. The cabin light clicked on; the American stooped above his berth. His form was suddenly lost amid a shrouding robe of black. A few moments later, Henry Arnaud was gone; and in his place stood a strange and fantastic being.
A tall, mysterious figure, garbed in black; this was the personage into which Henry Arnaud had transformed himself. The folds of a sable-hued cloak enveloped his body; the broad brim of a dark slouch hat obscured his visage. Henry Arnaud had become The Shadow!
A soft laugh that came from unseen lips announced the identity of the mysterious figure. The low tones of that sinister mockery were inimitable. No other living person could have uttered them.
The Shadow, who hounded criminals of every land, had booked passage aboard the Munchen in his adopted guise of Henry Arnaud. By chance, he had learned that Captain von Werndorff was harboring a secret. He had divined the presence of a stowaway aboard this dirigible. He had aroused the commander’s apprehensions, and had caused Von Werndorff to visit the secret spot where the stowaway was hidden.
Now, as a phantom shape, The Shadow was about to investigate the situation. With his penchant for unraveling meshes of mystery, he intended to learn more of the matter which now concerned him. The actions of the captain needed much explanation.
THE door of Cabin 28 began to open. Sharp eyes gleamed along the corridor. A black-gloved hand appeared at the edge of the door. Then, the moving figure stopped, while the gleaming eyes remained focused upon the distant bulkhead.
A metal panel was opening slowly outward. The Shadow watched the figure of a man step from the secret cabin. The open panel obscured most of the man’s body, and hid his face. His back turned as he closed the panel behind him.
The man was carrying a compact package. He did not turn his face toward the spot where The Shadow stood. Instead, he headed toward the rear of the corridor, only a few yards away, and, with a swift stride, made a dash in that direction.
Scarcely had the man gone before The Shadow emerged from Cabin 28. With gliding motion he set forth in pursuit of the fleeing man.
The destination was obvious. At the rear of the corridor was a stairway that led upward into the envelope above the gondola. There were passages up there, beneath the balloonets; and among those passages, The Shadow might trace the course that the man had taken.
It was chance that interfered. Before The Shadow had moved a dozen feet, the door of a cabin farther down the corridor opened, and two officers of the Munchen came into view. Coming forward along the narrow way, they would surely have encountered The Shadow, but for the quick action of the black-clad figure.
With a turning sweep, The Shadow regained his cabin. The door closed as the officers tramped by. It reopened, and even while the men were still walking forward in the corridor, The Shadow’s amazing form was sweeping toward the companionway at the rear, taking up the delayed pursuit.
A spectral mass of black, The Shadow arrived at the top of the companionway. Straight ahead lay the walk that led to the rear of the dirigible. The interior of the tremendous envelope was a heavy bulk above, with this passage, illuminated only by safety lights, running beneath.
The keen mind of The Shadow was at work. That brain had trained itself to measure time in split seconds to gauge each passing event with absolute precision. The length of the passage within the envelope proved clearly that the man who had emerged from the panel could not have gained its end in the short time allowed him between his departure and The Shadow’s swift pursuit.
A tiny light gleamed in a blackened fist. The Shadow was moving along the passage in the envelope, his flashlight pointing out spots on either side. Here were hatchways in the lower surface of the dirigible — places where goods could be taken in or unloaded. The Shadow’s light stopped on the hatch nearest to him.
The fastening of this opening was loose. Some one had opened the hinged door and left it loose after it had swung shut. The Shadow’s hands opened the light barrier. The blackened head and shoulders thrust themselves through the opening.
The ground was more than a mile below. Tiny glimmering lights indicated the countryside. The flashing of an air beacon showed the airway which the dirigible was following. The Shadow’s keen eyes spotted that intermittent signal.
Through those eyes, The Shadow gained a photographic impression of the ground beneath. In daytime, the observation would have been difficult enough; at night, it was far more so. Yet, with the air beacon as his guide, this strange observer was able to gain the exact location of the dirigible. The Shadow was taking the position.
TOO late to overtake the man who had fled, The Shadow had gained full knowledge of the man’s purpose and action. Somewhere, now miles behind the dirigible, and thousands of feet below, a human form was dropping to safety from the Munchen, with the broad surface of a parachute spread out above him!
The Shadow’s quarry had made a remarkable and well-planned escape from the moving dirigible. Of passengers and crew, there was only one who had discovered the deed. That one was The Shadow!
No thought of pursuit engaged The Shadow as he made his way back along the passage toward the huge main gondola. There was another task before him. The black-garbed shape flitted down the companionway and entered the corridor of the gondola. It stopped before the secret panel.
Gloved fingers were at work, prying along the narrow crevice that marked the edge of the secret door. It required less than a minute for The Shadow to discover the hidden mechanism. A click resounded as a piece of metal entered the crack. The panel opened, and The Shadow stepped within. The door closed, barely a second before footsteps came down the corridor. The officers were coming back along the passage.