Cardona laughed at Cranston’s frankness. He decided that the millionaire would have made a good detective.
They arrived at the apartment. Cranston did exactly as he said he would. He gave Cardona the finger prints. It did not take the detective long to ascertain that none of the three — Legira, Lopez, or Cranston — could have been the man who fired the fatal shots.
“Well, there are three eliminated,” declared Cardona, with a short laugh. “I hope I have better luck with the next impressions I get.”
“Perhaps you will,” responded Cranston, in a cryptic tone.
THE millionaire left the apartment. Joe Cardona was thinking about him after he had gone. He liked Cranston’s quiet, businesslike manner. Again Cardona said to himself that Cranston would have made a great detective.
Cardona had now formulated a theory. Legira was definitely out of the picture. He had no idea who the murderer might be, but he intended to scour the underworld, believing that some gangster might be responsible.
It was logical to suppose that a gunman had entered to make certain demands upon so wealthy a man as Hendrix, and that, in the ensuing fight, Hendrix and his companions had been slain.
Cardona felt very pleased because he had the evidence of clear finger prints. His one regret was that he had not managed to prevent the escape of the man he believed to have been the murderer. Not for one minute did the star detective begin to realize the tremendous amount of data that he had missed.
Lamont Cranston, friendly and helpful, could have told Cardona facts that would have amazed him. Cardona was looking at Cranston’s finger prints now. What would he have thought if he had known that they were the finger prints of The Shadow; that strange, mysterious personage whose very name spelled terror to the underworld?
Cardona would not have believed it if some one had told him that Cranston was the same man who had fought his way through the cordon of police surrounding the apartment house. Yet that was only a fraction of the work The Shadow had done tonight.
As The Shadow, he had taken away documents which linked Hendrix with Legira, thus lulling suspicion in the direction of the consul. He had settled the matter of Cody’s worries regarding the transaction in which the true Legira had received ten million-dollars.
He had saved Perry Wallace, the false Legira, from the trouble of answering pointed questions, and had rescued him from death at the hands of Lopez. More than that, he had obtained, for Cardona, finger prints of the false and not the true Legira.
Besides, The Shadow had changed the time element in the murder, thus taking the last vestige of suspicion from Legira; and to even matters, he had trailed the real consul to his secret retreat.
The hand of The Shadow was working stealthily tonight. Its purpose was mysterious. Even Joe Cardona, the only detective on the New York force who had ever encountered The Shadow in person, did not suspect the work of the man in black.
Now, while Cardona pondered, The Shadow had gone on some new mission. His work was not yet ended. Cardona did not know that he was thinking of The Shadow. Yet he was, for he was thinking of Lamont Cranston.
Alone in the room of death, the detective was still staring at those finger prints and to his mind came the chance remark that Cranston had uttered when Cardona had expressed the wish that he might obtain the finger prints of the murderer.
“Perhaps you will,” Cranston had said.
Actually, it was The Shadow who had spoken. Whenever The Shadow spoke, his words were significant.
The words of The Shadow were often prophetic.
CHAPTER XVII
THE SHADOW’S PLANS
A LIGHT clicked in a darkened room. The glow of a lamp spread its circular spot upon a table top. White hands appeared beneath the glare. The Shadow was in his sanctuary.
The hands worked with pencil and paper. They were jotting down cryptic notations and important items. These were legible only to the man who wrote them.
A column of figures took on the appearance of a time-table. Events were being scheduled with accuracy. The hand paused, leaving its work but partly done. A mouthpiece and a set of earphones came into the light; then disappeared in the gloom. The voice of The Shadow spoke.
“Burbank.”
A pause. Then:
“Report in detail—”
The hand worked as the ears listened. More figures appeared in the tabulations. Then came an inquiry from The Shadow.
“Ballou?”
A voice clicked through the earphones. It asked a question.
“Report,” answered The Shadow, “as soon as Vincent tells you he has left the Hotel Oriental.”
A piece of paper dropped upon the table. It was the sheet that Perry Wallace had given to The Shadow. It bore the words:
Pete Ballou — Hotel Oriental.
This address had evidently been given to Burbank by The Shadow when the man in black had held that brief conversation over the phone in Legira’s home.
“Important instructions later,” spoke the whispered voice of The Shadow. “Stand ready.”
The earphones and mouthpiece were laid aside. From the tabulations, The Shadow’s hands began to form brief charts. One of these referred to Pete Ballou and his men.
7.48 — entered Legira’s.
8.04 — left Legira’s. Received word of Powell’s departure at 7.56. Powell followed by Dowdy. Ballou informed by other watchers. Communication between Dowdy and Ballou is evident.
8.58 — Dowdy returns.
This sheet of paper was pushed aside. The hand of The Shadow wrote:
8.50 — approximate time of murders.
Then, farther down, appeared notes concerning Alvarez Legira:
8.15 — last logical time at Hendrix home.
9.30 — at Baltham Trust.
Back went the hand to the first sheet. Consulting the tabulations, The Shadow found another statement received from Burbank and added it to the notations on Ballou’s list:
9.34 — Ballou arrived Hotel Oriental.
Now, the hands held a map. It was an odd map of Manhattan, the streets lined with short dashes of red. These indicated the average distance covered in each five minutes of running time by automobile. In heavy trafficked areas, the lines were short; in others, they were long.
Using colored pushpins, the hands indicated various spots on the map. These were the locations of the apartment where John Hendrix had lived, the home of Alvarez Legira, the Baltham Trust Company and the Hotel Oriental.
Now, on a single sheet, The Shadow’s hand wrote the statement:
Hendrix — 9.14.
This denoted the time of The Shadow’s arrival in the room of death. It also indicated the last possible minute that the murderer could have been there; for the killer had been gone when The Shadow had arrived.
Legira: 8.15 — 9.30.
Ballou: 9.14 — 9.34.
The Shadow, buried in darkness, considered these elements as he wrote them. The slender fingers made measurements upon the map. They added these comments:
Hendrix to Baltham — 45 min.
Hendrix to Oriental — 20 min.
Now came a revised statement:
Legira: 8.50 — 9.30.
Ballou: 8.50 — 9.34.
As these varied tabulations lay upon the table, they spelled meanings that were evident. Regarding Alvarez Legira, they indicated that had the South American left the home of Hendrix before the arrival of Martin Powell, he could have reached the Baltham Trust Company, with thirty minutes to spare, before half past nine. Had Legira, however, returned to the apartment, he would have lacked five minutes in making the trip after the murders at ten minutes of nine.