Chalvers paused and looked about him as though the very mention of the fact might cause him trouble.
He licked his lips nervously, then resumed his discourse.
“A ray,” he explained, “that cast blackness. It played hob with electrical equipment when we tried it out. We kept on, though, and we got the bounce from college. We never gave the details — simply took the expulsion and said nothing.
“Furness didn’t do much experimenting after that. He was too busy getting his degree at the new college, where we graduated. But I kept on fooling with the idea. Had a model at my home up in the Catskills. It’s still there; but—”
Chalvers paused and clawed at the arm of his chair. He looked toward the door, then leaped from his seat and went over to turn the knob and peer out into the hall. Satisfied, he rejoined Harry.
“Somebody has learned the secret,” he whispered. “Someone has perfected an apparatus like ours. Whoever has it is using it for crime. When Furness was killed, the Olympia Hotel was plunged into darkness. Furness was killed because he knew about the ray — because he might have told!
“I am the only other one who knows. They haven’t found me yet, Vincent. I’m practically in hiding here. I’m afraid to tell the police. I don’t want it to be known that I’m in New York.
“Look, Vincent” — Chalvers pointed to the window — “and see those twinkling lights. The ray could put them out! It could enter here and grip you and me. It throws a hush, too, Vincent — a black hush—”
As Chalvers pronounced the words, every light in the room went out. Still staring toward the window, Harry Vincent found his vision completely blotted. The twinkling flashes of the city were gone. A blanketing blindness had arrived; with it, a stifling pall that made The Shadow’s agent utter an inarticulate gasp.
The suddenness of the happening seemed to paralyze Harry Vincent. He was fixed in his chair, unable to understand this terrible stroke of darkness. Weird silence hung like a shroud. The black hush had fallen.
Grimly, Harry regained his nerve. He started to rise from his chair. But before he reached his feet, hands clutched at his arms. The surge of a powerful body hurled him back. The chair overturned, and Harry sprawled upon the floor. Something struck him underneath the chin.
Blackness surged through Harry Vincent’s brain as he succumbed to the attack delivered by men from the dark!
CHAPTER XXII. PLANS OF CRIME
HARRY VINCENT opened his eyes. He was no longer in the room where that strange blackness had fallen. Instead, he was lying in the corner of a stone-walled chamber, bound hand and foot.
Two men were standing close by. One of them looked toward the corner as he heard Harry stir. The Shadow’s agent caught the gleam of gold teeth that flashed in the rays of the single light which hung from the ceiling.
Despite a dull ache in the back of his head, Harry Vincent sensed who his principal captor was. He had heard of Goldy Tancred, king among racketeers; and that gleaming face displayed the man’s chief mark of identity.
“Still groggy, eh?” jeered Goldy. “Well, go to sleep again. Don’t worry about your friend. We’re taking care of him. That’s right” — Goldy laughed as Harry’s eyes closed — “take my advice. You’re going to be here a long while. It won’t do you any good to stay awake.”
To all appearance, Harry Vincent had drifted back to a state of semi-consciousness. This, however, was a pretense. Harry wanted to learn all that he could, and he knew that his captors might speak more freely if they thought that he was in no condition to listen.
“You saw how it worked, Hardigan,” spoke Goldy Tancred, to his companion. “Well, that’s the way it will work tomorrow night. Plunk — all black — and it stays that way.”
Harry Vincent heard the name that Goldy Tancred pronounced. It told him the other man’s identity.
Clipper Hardigan, dock racketeer, was an ex-gang leader who had developed a powerful influence which the police had been unable to counteract.
“Yeah,” growled Clipper Hardigan. “It works all right; but how long can you keep it going?”
“We only needed three minutes, tonight,” returned Goldy. “In fact, we didn’t need it at all, but I wanted you to be in on a test. Did you notice the way it quieted everything? That’s why we’ve called it the black hush. Keep it going? Just as long as you need it.”
“I figure about fifteen minutes is what we’ll need,” calculated Clipper. “But I can’t be sure. That’s the trouble, Goldy. Suppose we get caught right in the middle of the job.”
“Not a chance,” returned Goldy. “Not tomorrow night. We’ll hold it for the fifteen minutes. Then we’ll lift it. It will be a cinch for us to see if you’re clear. If you aren’t, we’ll put on the gloom again — in less than ten seconds.”
“Sounds mighty good,” said Clipper Hardigan, in a meditative growl.
STEP by step, Goldy outlined the plan which he had arranged.
With smooth, convincing tones, he won every point in furthering this new alliance. Clipper’s head was nodding; his lips were grinning as he approved the final arrangements.
“It’s good.” Clipper’s statement expressed his final agreement. “We’ll be there — ready for the blackout. I’m counting on you though, Goldy.”
“I’ll be at the other end,” assured the big shot.
A knock at the door followed Goldy’s words. The big shot growled. The door opened, and Bowser Riggins entered.
“Got the car ready in the garage,” the bodyguard said to his chief. “All ready to go along?”
“Right,” said Goldy. “Come on, Clipper.”
The big shot extinguished the light. Harry Vincent heard the door shut. A key turned in the lock. The trio had departed. The Shadow’s agent was alone, a helpless prisoner.
He knew that his room was underground. He sensed that shouts would be of no avail; otherwise he would have been gagged as well as bound. Vainly, Harry struggled with the cords that held him. The effort was of no avail to him.
Through Harry Vincent’s aching head thrummed a series of troubling thoughts.
His report to Burbank; it had been unwise to tell the contact man that danger would not possibly exist.
Don Chalvers; the young engineer’s broken revelations had come just before the attack; Harry was sure that the hunted man had encountered doom.
But uppermost in Harry Vincent’s thoughts came the conversation that had passed between Goldy Tancred and his ally, Clipper Hardigan. In that discussion, Harry had learned the enemy’s plans. He knew the details of the crime which was due to strike tomorrow night.
Robbery — murder — those were the contemplated acts which were to accompany a gigantic scheme which only the black hush would render possible. The outlandish plan was one that police could never suspect.
Even The Shadow, if he were alert and ready, would look for criminal activities in a thousand places before he would pick the one where crime was due.
Harry Vincent groaned. He was in the hands of superfiends. His captors were men whose greed surpassed all other motives. Tomorrow night, their stroke would fall. After that, they would attend to Harry Vincent.
The Shadow’s agent knew that he could expect no mercy from Goldy Tancred. He knew that the big shot was holding him merely to question him later; then kill him if he did not speak. Yet Harry was not annoyed upon that score.
He felt sure that he would be safe until after tomorrow night. Then, with a new crime to work upon, The Shadow might find clues that would lead to his captured agent. Harry had confidence in The Shadow’s power to rescue him from desperate situations. He had never known The Shadow to fail.