“What is the value of the tapestry?” inquired some one.
“Conservatively,” returned Dutton, “two hundred thousand dollars. That is here in America. It might bring more from a European collector. In fact, I have received definite offers from Italy. The tapestry, however, is not for sale.
“If you will step inside — three or four at a time — I shall permit you to examine the texture of the tapestry and to view it at closer range.”
Groups of guests came forward. As they completed their inspection, Dutton ushered them back to the hall. Among the last half dozen were Lamont Cranston and Doris Munson. Cranston was nodding as they turned away. He apparently did not observe the approach of Mark Tyrell, who was with the final group.
The guests, as they examined the tapestry, stood aside, to avoid the spotlight. The edges and corners of the embroidered decoration were just outside the range of light. Tyrell performed a simple action which others had done before him. He lifted a corner of the tapestry. As he released it, the cloth dropped to its former position.
Sebastian Dutton saw the action. He thought nothing of it, for it appeared to be a natural procedure. In fact, when Tyrell strolled across in front of the spotlight and happened to lift the other corner of the tapestry, Dutton took the action as a mere repetition.
THE final guests were leaving; all but Rudolph Brockthorpe and Hubert Bexler. These two collectors were talking with Sebastian Dutton. Tyrell lingered, listening.
“The tapestry is well preserved,” said Bexler. “But is it wise to have it hanging on the wall? The upper border might be damaged.”
“The weight is not too great,” explained Dutton. “I have a special type of fastening that will not injure the border. Even a pull would not damage the tapestry. It would release easily if one gave it a slight tug.”
The three men were turning toward the doorway. Tyrell smiled suavely as he joined them. He walked through the broad portal with Brockthorpe and Bexler. He turned as he reached the hallway.
The glow of the spotlight was full upon the tapestry. Yet no one — not even Tyrell — could note the corners nor the bottom border. There was reason for Tyrell’s smile. On each bottom corner of the tapestry, Tyrell had attached a blackened fish hook. Between the two ran a length of fine wire, also blackened. These were totally invisible.
People were watching Dutton at the light switch. They did not see Tyrell’s hand relax as something dropped unnoticed to the hall floor. Dutton, with a final look toward his precious tapestry, gave pressure to the light switch. The glow faded. Dutton stepped into the hall. Servants closed the sliding doors.
Tyrell had strolled away before Dutton had finished the locking of the door. Entering the living room, the scheming crook encountered Lamont Cranston, standing beside Doris Munson. He noted that Cranston’s eyes were toward the hallway where Dutton was stooped before the closed doors. Tyrell smiled as he walked by.
Half an hour passed. The party increased in its conviviality. Dutton and his cronies were engaged in private conversation while other guests drifted here and there, talking to each other. Tyrell noted Lamont Cranston and Doris Munson walking out through a door to an enclosed veranda. This was his final cue.
Chopper was passing with an empty tray. Tyrell hissed a low command in the fake servant’s ear. Chopper continued on; Tyrell found a chance to stroll through the door that led into the hall outside the tapestry room.
Alone in the gloomy passage, Tyrell worked quickly. Dropping to his knees in front of the sliding doors, he found the object that he wanted; the end of a strong fish line. He gave a tug. There was a slight resistance at the other end. Then, like an angler making a haul, Tyrell pulled in his catch.
As he drew upon the cord, Dutton’s Sicilian tapestry came sliding through the crack beneath the sliding doors. Tyrell, rising, gripped the border as it came in view. With a backward step, he whisked his valuable prize out into the hallway.
Soft footsteps came in his direction as Tyrell folded the tapestry. Chopper had arrived; the false servant held a small bag open in readiness. Tyrell shoved the tapestry into the container. Chopper whispered quick information.
“I’m pitchin’ it out the pantry window,” he stated. “Slug’s there, ready to grab it. Muff’s stickin’ out in the kitchen, kiddin’ the help. Nobody’ll see me.”
Tyrell nodded. Chopper, the tapestry inside the bag, turned toward his destination. Tyrell strolled back through the door into the living room. He was lighting a cigarette when Chopper reappeared, carrying another loaded tray. Tyrell helped himself to a glass. As he drank, he heard Rudolph Brockthorpe speak to Sebastian Dutton.
“Your room is as strong as mine,” Brockthorpe was saying. “Triple locked; windowless—”
“But not as strong as a vault,” interposed Hubert Bexler.
“Nonsense,” scoffed Dutton. “Come out in the hallway, gentlemen. Take a look at those locks. I tried a locksmith on them. He was stumped.”
Tyrell strolled on toward the veranda. At the door, he encountered Lamont Cranston. The globetrotter stopped to put a question:
“Where is Mr. Dutton?”
“I think he went into the hallway,” replied Tyrell, in a casual tone. “Out to show some friends the locks on his tapestry room.”
“Thank you,” returned Cranston. “I am anxious to talk to him.”
Tyrell caught the glint of burning eyes; nevertheless, he wore a triumphant smile as he stepped to the veranda to look for Doris Munson. His task was done. The tapestry was gone. Not even The Shadow could prevent the theft that was already accomplished.
HALF an hour later, Mark Tyrell and Doris Munson paid their respects to host and hostess as they made their departure. As he shook hands with Sebastian Dutton, Tyrell noted Lamont Cranston chatting with Rudolph Brockthorpe and Hubert Bexler. Tyrell knew that the trip to the hallway outside the tapestry room had revealed nothing except the fact that the locks were as strong as ever.
Doris was silent as they rode away in a taxicab. The girl was annoyed by Tyrell’s lack of jealousy. She seemed to feel that he should be angry because she had talked so long with Cranston. Tyrell, however, was unconcerned.
After he had ushered Doris up to her apartment, the clever schemer returned to the street and hailed another cab. He ordered the driver to take him to the Esplanade. Tyrell was smiling suavely as he rode toward his abode. His first crime had been accomplished with surprising ease. Tyrell had expected that result. There was another reason for his expression of triumph. The schemer was positive that he had achieved his clever theft almost before the eyes of The Shadow!
CHAPTER VII
THE SECOND CRIME
IT was three nights after the robbery at Dutton’s. Broadway was agleam. Amid the whirl of traffic, a taxicab was traveling north. There were two passengers in the vehicle: Mark Tyrell and Doris Munson.
“Rudolph Brockthorpe’s,” Tyrell was musing. “Another of the curio clique. I suppose that we shall have to listen to more talk of rare antiques.”
“I hope,” responded Doris, “that Mr. Brockthorpe will show us his Chinese screens. He says that they were brought to America from the Forbidden Palace in Peking—”
“—seized by soldiers during the Boer uprising,” Tyrell added. “I know the story, Doris. Why repeat it?”
“I think the screens must be wonderful.”
“Like Dutton’s Sicilian tapestry. Well, if Brockthorpe has any brains, he will keep his precious screens under cover. The police are still trying to figure out who stole Dutton’s tapestry.”