Who had escaped? Who remained? Where were the jewels? These were questions that the gloom withheld. Then, one prowling detective made an accidental discovery as he stumbled over an object on the floor.
The jewel bag!
The sleuth’s blurting cry came to his comrades’ ears. They gathered round about him, clutching at the bag to make sure it had been recovered.
Flashlights were still useless. Matches glimmered feebly and cast an insufficient glare. In the confusion, the elevator door was forgotten. No one could hear its muffled opening. Obscured in the total darkness, The Shadow arose from the floor and closed the door behind him.
His form moved silently into the living room. There, when the lights came on, he would be among the guests.
Let the detectives blunder on; there was no need to aid them now. Some of the mobsters had escaped, but The Shadow knew that their purpose had been thwarted.
Soon the black hush would lift. Then, amid restored light, the result of The Shadow’s might would be revealed!
CHAPTER XI. THE HUSH LIFTS
“ONE minute longer.”
The voice of Hector Fawcett was speaking in the corner office of the suite in the Judruth Tower.
Ninety-three stories above the street, the president of the Climax Corp. was staring from the opened window.
The room was dark, save for the slight glimmer of chromium-plated apparatus close beside him. The strange machine from the storeroom was in use. A breathing sound denoted the presence of another man at the control switch.
The lamp-like portion of the odd mechanism was turned at a downward angle. From it extended a conical widening beam like the ray of a powerful searchlight. But this shaft was different from any projected illumination.
Instead of light, the machine was focusing blackness downward toward the city! Through the dim glow that showed from the lights of Manhattan, a shaft of complete darkness was spreading its mysterious ray!
Just as the glare of a searchlight might carve through the night and spread a circle of bright illumination upon its objective, so did this amazing beam do its work in direct opposition. The lights of buildings were glimmering below, but the spot where the black ray ended was totally dark.
Differing from among neighboring structures, the entire surface of the apartment house beside the old Windsor Theater was blotted out from view!
Focused darkness — a beam of night — black light! This was the power that was in operation tonight. It was the force that had laid the strange lull of the black hush throughout Thaddeus Harmon’s penthouse!
“Good work — Hobbs—”
Hector Fawcett chuckled as he paused upon the name by which he had addressed his companion. There was significance in Fawcett’s tone. It indicated understanding.
Only these two men were witnessing the distant effect of the strange demonstration of new science. From their towering vantage point, they were creating a mysterious result.
One edifice in Manhattan was blackened; not only was it in total darkness, but the tremendous force of this gloom-projecting beam had also wreaked temporary havoc with all electrical equipment in its path.
Hector Fawcett consulted the luminous dial of his wrist watch. Time was up. The man lingered, however, to enjoy a few more seconds of this sight which intrigued him. Fawcett’s eye followed the spreading wedge of darkness; it dwelt approvingly on the splotch of blackness that indicated the position of the hushed apartment house. Then, in a regretful tone, the corporation president gave the final order to the man at the controls.
“Time’s up.”
The man by the machine pressed a lever.
The effect was magical. The black beam disappeared. Where complete obliteration had marked the presence of a building, a host of twinkling lights sprang into being.
BELOW the indirect glow of the great city, the outline of Thaddeus Harmon’s penthouse showed atop the apartment building. Windows shone, indicating the position of the living room. Hector Fawcett chuckled.
He had seen this phenomenon before. With his same companion, the man whom he addressed as Hobbs, he had observed the effect of the black beam upon the Olympia Hotel. Once again, a barrage of darkness had been laid and lifted so that a time space for swift and effective crime might be created!
There was confidence in Hector Fawcett’s chuckle. It was answered by a pleased mumble from Hobbs.
Both men knew the all-pervading force of the power that they had loosed. Projected on a perfectly arranged schedule, the black hush had given full opportunity to men of crime.
Gleeful thoughts were humming through Hector Fawcett’s cunning brain. He was inspired by the surety of evil now accomplished; he was considering the confusion that must surely reign in the place from which gems valued at half a million had been stolen.
THE scene in the penthouse was, however, quite different from the mental picture which Hector Fawcett had created. The restoration of the lights came with amazing suddenness. Blackness; then dazzling illumination.
Blinking, wondering eyes of frightened guests were staring at the strange results which had occurred in Thaddeus Harmon’s penthouse.
People were spread all about; in corners, behind chairs, in other spots of safety. But the guests paid no attention to each other. The place of interest was the corridor outside the living room. There lay the results of unwanted crime.
The bodies of two gunmen were huddled upon the floor. Both men were dead. The Shadow’s bullets had brought them down amid the darkness. The detectives, fearing that the men were still in ambush, had riddled them with shots.
Two sleuths were still pounding at the closed door of the fire tower. The other two were crouched upon the floor, grasping the bag which had fallen from the hand of the robber who had held it.
Thaddeus Harmon sprang forward with a cry of delight. He knew that his precious jewels had been saved. The other guests, relieved in turn, were crowding close behind him.
The telephone began to ring. The pulled alarm switch was functioning now. Tiny lights flickered by the elevator shaft. The stalled car had resumed its progress. The metal door opened, and the delayed guests surged forth, pleased at their release from bondage.
Amid the chaos, a tall, dignified gentleman stepped calmly across the corridor and joined the cluster of people who had come from the elevator. Thaddeus Harmon, guiding the detectives back into the living room, jostled against his new group of guests. Turning, he spied Lamont Cranston; for it was he who had just joined the others from the elevator.
Singling Cranston as the most important of the newcomers, Harmon extended a hand in greeting and began a series of explanations. Cranston and the others who had been in the elevator listened with intense interest.
“Burglars!” exclaimed Harmon. “They must have done something to the electrical equipment. They threw out everything — lights, telephone, alarm!
“They were getting away with my collection of gems! Fortunately, I had detectives on hand. My men were afraid to fire, for fear of bringing a reprisal. But when the burglars started to shoot of their own accord, our detectives entered into it.
“We landed two of the crooks. The rest managed to escape. It was wonderful work! Wonderful! The criminals were forced to drop the bag in which they had the jewels. The ones that eluded us fled down the fire tower.”
“CONGRATULATIONS, Mr. Harmon,” remarked Lamont Cranston, in a quiet tone. “Your detectives are to be commended. We were unfortunately unable to assist. We were stranded in the elevator a few floors below—”
“It is well that you were not here,” observed Harmon seriously. “The situation was very dangerous. You were fortunate not to be present, Mr. Cranston.”