Sappers were burrowing toward a final goal.
Like The Shadow, other possessors of the teakwood box had found a translation to Ku Luan’s tapestry.
That was a possibility that The Shadow had considered, ever since he had visited the Chinese bazaar.
He had not expressed his opinion to Tsing Chan; but The Shadow’s belief that crooks might already have gained the secret was the reason why he had told Tsing Chan to be ready.
Grim were the sounds beneath the large bronze statue. Ghostly creeping that told of a stubborn approach. Men of crime were pressing hard to gain Ku Luan’s treasure. Their burrowing had a weirdness that rivaled the work of ghouls.
Yet the laugh which whispered through the square-walled Chinese Room was a tone of sinister mirth far more uncanny than the scraping sound of sappers. Despite its repressed tones, it carried a note that boded thwarted hopes to those who sought to undermine the Manchu statue.
Somehow, that eerie whisper left an impression when it faded. The silence that followed seemed to tell that The Shadow was pleased to learn that Hype Mellick and Zack Ruggey were almost to the goal that they had chosen.
CHAPTER XIX. THE SHADOW’S RETURN
AT the exact time when The Shadow had entered the Chinese Room of the Oriental Museum, two men were engaged in stealthy action elsewhere. Dave Kelroy and Colin Eldreth had no roof to scale; their task had been to drop from one, after sliding from the window of their hotel room.
Unheard by The Shadow’s agents, Dave and Colin had made their getaway. Sneaking along a cement passage beside the Thurbley Hotel, they gained the street and entered Colin’s coupe. A chuckle came from Colin as he started the car and piloted it slowly through the fog.
“Just midnight,” commented Colin, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. “Well, this has been an eventful evening. It was about eight o’clock when I arrived at the Club Monterey. It was around ten when I landed back at the apartment. I couldn’t have stayed there more than half an hour, because I reached your hotel before eleven.”
“You came in there at quarter of eleven,” recalled Dave. “We stalled for more than an hour, bluffing those fellows in the next room.”
Colin’s time estimate had been approximately correct. His evening, however, had not been surprisingly eventful, when compared with The Shadow’s. That strange master of the darkness had accomplished many results in the same time period.
The Shadow had visited the Coronado Apartments at dusk. Following Colin to the Club Monterey, he had picked up Hype Mellick’s trail shortly after eight. The trip to the Latin Quarter had been a rapid one; for The Shadow’s fight with the two Mexicans had begun at approximately eight forty-five.
Then had come his search through the hidden lairs of Chinatown, a quest that had not ended until a quarter past eleven. In forty-five minutes since his interview with Tsing Chan, The Shadow had gone to Colin Eldreth’s; then on to the Oriental Museum. Even the heavy fog had failed to halt The Shadow’s speed.
Of these facts, Dave and Colin knew nothing. As they rode along, their talk concerned the spies who had been in Room 306. Dave was wondering who they could have been.
Colin’s opinion, as expressed by him to Dave, was that the spies must represent the same crime faction that had caused the previous trouble.
“I’m not sure of that, Colin,” objected Dave. “Remember, there were fellows who tried to help me out. I can’t forget my mysterious rescuer, that night at Ku Luan’s; nor that fight at the Chinese bazaar.”
“I don’t know much about Ku Luan’s,” returned Colin, “but the fracas at the bazaar was a general mix-up. You can’t count too much on more aid from fellows who simply pitched in to help you during a brawl.”
“But the being in black was like a ghost, Colin. I saw him at Ku Luan’s. He could have been the same person who appeared at the bazaar. The man who bid one hundred thousand dollars for the teakwood box—”
Colin broke in with an interruption. He was pointing from the window of the coupe, as they swung along a steep street. He was indicating the lighted windows of a fog-wreathed house.
“We’re passing Mark’s place,” remarked Colin. “He’s getting to be a regular night owl. Fancy it! Entertaining until after midnight!”
The high notes of a soprano voice came from the windows. Dave and Colin heard a flurry of applause from clapping hands. As the coupe rolled along, Dave made comment.
“IT’S a late recital,” he stated. “It wasn’t scheduled until after eleven o’clock. The singer is a concert artist, who had an earlier engagement. Mark told me about it while we were driving in from the museum.”
“He did, eh?” queried Colin, sourly. “Well, why wasn’t he decent enough to invite you?”
“He did invite me,” returned Dave, “but he mentioned that it was to be a dress affair. I don’t have any evening clothes. That’s why I declined.”
“Too bad you didn’t show up at the apartment,” jeered Colin. “I’d have loaned you my tuxedo, or a full-dress suit if you preferred. You’d have been in time for that eleven-o’clock concert. Humph! Maybe I’m wrong; but I can’t see why I shouldn’t gamble my dough if Mark wants to spend his entertaining a bunch of stuffed shirts.”
“It may be good business on his part, Colin. He may make social contacts which count.”
“He does. You can trust Mark for that. He always kowtows to people who have wealth. Mark wouldn’t spend a nickel if he didn’t think it might lead to some business deal later. Grabbing money, stowing it away — those are his only aims in life.”
Dave was silent. He felt that Colin’s criticism of Mark was too caustic. Colin darted a sidelong glance at his companion; then decided that it would be best to temper the remarks that he had just made.
“Maybe it’s just sour grapes on my part,” said Colin, casually. “Mark has been successful. I haven’t. That is probably why I like to crab about it. Mark is all right; he and I just have different ideas, that’s all.”
The note in Colin’s voice was convincing. For a brief interval, his renewed friendship with Dave had been tending toward another break. Colin had smoothed matters neatly. He was smiling to himself as he pulled up in front of the Coronado Apartments.
WHEN they reached the second floor of the apartment house, Dave was surprised to see Colin turn the doorknob of his apartment without first employing a key.
“You left the door unlatched?” he inquired. “What was the idea, Colin? Anyone could have walked into the place.”
“I left it unlatched for you,” returned Colin, pressing the light switch. “I told you I’d keep it unlocked so you could come in without a key.”
“But that was before you started down to the hotel. You knew you were going to see me, the last time you came out. It was foolish to leave the door unlocked.”
“I forgot all about it. Don’t worry. Nobody has been in here. If—”
Colin broke off. Dave was staring at the table. Colin saw him advance in slow, mechanical steps; then he, too, spied the object that had caught Dave’s eye. It was the teakwood box, with its silver dragon top!
“Look!” Dave was gasping. “How did this come here? Who brought it, Colin?”
Eagerly, Dave yanked open the lid. He saw the folded silk. He pulled out the tapestry and spread it, his eyes lighting as he observed the squares and their curious, embroidered symbols.
Dave caught a glimpse of Colin’s face. Hand to chin, Colin was staring, his expression almost one of anger. Before Dave could speak, Colin wheeled away and headed for a bedroom.
A sudden suspicion gripped Dave. Colin had left the apartment door unlocked, excusing it only on the ground of forgetfulness. Someone could have come in here; someone whom Colin had expected.