“Where is Bexler to-night?” inquired Dutton. “I thought that he was coming here.”
“He intended to join us. He called me up to say that he could not come, due to unexpected guests.”
“Do you think that he is worrying about his Persian throne?”
“I don’t know. He told me that he asked Cardona to come down there and take a look at his vault. He wants to be sure that it is safe. Perhaps the detective is going there after he leaves here.”
Ferrell Gault was returning. In his arms, the millionaire carried a heavy statuette, some two feet in height. Its golden surface glistened in Gault’s arms. Crossing the room, Gault set the statue in the paneled niche. Gasps of amazement came from the guests as the millionaire stepped aside.
The Buddha was evidently a hollow casting grade of pure gold. But the metal represented no more than a fraction of its value.
From the forehead glistened a perfect emerald. This green gem was matched by four similar stones: two in the palms of the figure’s hands, one on the sole of each foot. Representing five points of Buddha, the jewels caught the light and produced a resplendent glow.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed some one.
“No, no,” objected Gault. He was standing back from the Buddha, with Cardona close beside him. “The lights are all wrong. They do not show the sparkle of the emeralds.”
Gault frowned as he looked around the room. He ordered a solemn-faced servant to turn out certain clusters. Still, he was not satisfied.
“Close the door,” ordered the millionaire.
The injunction was obeyed. Gault went to the light switches himself. He clicked one; then another; he continued in rapid succession. Each new change seemed as unsatisfactory as the one before.
“No light reaches the niche property,” decided Gault, in a disappointed tone. “The emeralds sparkle; but they do not create the glow. Bah! In this illumination they show no better than green glass.
“I must arrange lights within the niche itself. Jove! This is disappointing! Even darkness will prove better. Stand where you are, every one, while I turn out the lights. As your eyes become accustomed to the darkness, you will see a green glow creep from the emeralds. I promise you it will appear uncanny!”
“One moment, Mr. Gault—”
The objection came from Joe Cardona. Gault gestured impatiently for the detective to stand aside. Cardona subsided. Gault raised his hand for silence. Absolute hush fell over the throng. Gault turned off the final light switch. People waited, silent, in pitch blackness.
WHILE stillness reigned in Ferrell Gault’s paneled room, whisperings began on the other side of the wall. Foon Koo, crouched in the closet of the empty apartment, was talking to Pug Halfin.
“Foon Koo has heard,” hissed the Chinaman. “Lightee, they have all gone out. Foon Koo is ready. Makee no noise though. People, maybe, have not all goee.”
“Better wait, Foon Koo—”
“Lightee gonee out. Foon Koo ready.”
“All right.”
Pug stood silent. He heard no sound, but he felt a slight draught as Foon Koo noiselessly opened a secret trap in the wall. Pug could sense that the Chinaman’s clawlike hands were reaching through the opening. Foon Koo had spidery legs; but his arms possessed immense strength.
Not a sound occurred; yet ten seconds later, Pug felt something press against his chest. He gripped the object. He found it a heavy mass of metal. He felt Foon Koo’s claws slide along his hands. Pug gripped his burden and waited.
Another feeble puff of wind. The Chinaman had closed the trap. Yet Foon Koo still worked for twenty seconds longer. The Chinaman, versed in the amazing craftsmanship of his native land, was springing secret bolts to render the movable panel useless in the future. Yet as he worked, Foon Koo made no noise.
A nudge in the darkness. Pug Halfin stepped from the closet, carrying his burden. He felt Foon Koo padding along beside him. They opened the door and stepped into the dim, empty living room. The waiting mobsters stared. Pug, a grin on his face, stretched his arms forward.
“There it is, boys!” he whispered.
In his hands, Pug was holding the golden Buddha with its five green gems glimmering from head, hands and feet. The mobleader clutched the idol with his arms and moved to a corner of the room where an open box stood.
Foon Koo padded ahead. The Chinaman popped into the box; crouching, he held up his arms and leered in evil fashion as he received the Buddha from Pug Halfin. Foon Koo dropped out of sight with his burden. Pug placed the cover on the box. He jammed four clamps into place.
“Down the freight elevator,” he ordered, turning to his men. “Shove the box in the touring car. I’ll drive it away. Then you guys can scram.”
The mobsters nodded. As Pug led the way, they hoisted the box and started toward the door to the passage. Less than three minutes had elapsed since Ferrell Gault had turned out the lights in his paneled room. Already the jeweled Buddha was on its way from the building!
BACK in his paneled room, Gault had begun to speak. His voice sounded annoyed as the listeners heard it in the darkness.
“Usually the glow commences after a few minutes,” the millionaire announced. “The niche must be causing the same trouble it did in the light.”
“Hardly, Gault,” came Brockthorpe’s voice. “Its position should make no difference in the darkness.”
“Perhaps you need a trifling light,” suggested Dutton. “Gems are not apt to glow in absolute blackness.”
“Wait a few minutes longer,” returned Gault, curtly.
People were shifting restlessly. Darkness was appalling. Subdued whispers began to pass among the guests. Some persons shifted toward the doorway. Another voice rose above the murmur.
“Quiet, every one!” Joe Cardona was growling. “Stay where you are. I don’t like this. Suppose we turn on the lights, Mr. Gault.”
“Why do you want them?” demanded the millionaire.
“I don’t like this foolishness,” retorted Cardona. “It’s dangerous. It’s too easy for some one to start trouble. Quiet, every one. Here come the lights!”
As he spoke, Cardona pushed Gault aside and pressed the light switch. As illumination filled the room, the detective came face to face with the millionaire. Indignation showed on Gault’s features; challenge on Cardona’s.
Then came excited cries that caused the two men to forget antagonism. People were gasping, pointing toward the niche in the wall. Gault and Cardona, turned to see the cause of the hubbub. They stared, as amazed as the rest.
The niche in the wall was empty. The failure of the expected green glow was explained. The golden Buddha with its precious emeralds had been purloined in the midst of darkness!
“Stay where you are!” shouted Cardona, grimly. “Watch these people, Mr. Gault! You, Mr. Dutton — you, Mr. Brockthorpe! Some one has made a getaway!”
With that, Cardona yanked open the door of the paneled room. He dashed out into the apartment. He encountered bewildered servants. In response to the detective’s questions, the attendants stated that no one had come out of the paneled room.
Cardona dashed back to the assembled throng. He stared suspiciously from guest to guest. He marched people out one by one. Aided by Ferrell Gault, he began a systematic search of the room. Cardona tapped the panels as he went along. Not one portion of the wall sounded hollow.
HARRY VINCENT, herded with others in the room outside the paneled chamber, was the most puzzled person present. To him, the theft was unexplainable. Harry had come here to-night to serve a double mission. He was the secret agent of The Shadow; he was also the appointed aid of Mark Tyrell.
He knew that robbery had been planned. But he had decided that circumstances would prevent it. Yet the crime had been accomplished with a cleverness that left him totally bewildered.