There were reasons why Joe Cardona intended to sift every possible shred of evidence in the death of Henry Bellew. Although he could see no connection between this unfortunate tragedy and the killings aboard the local at Felswood, nevertheless it was a new and startling case of death. Henry Bellew was a man of importance. His tragic end would make front-page news. It warranted exhaustive investigation.
Moreover, Cardona knew that his present position with Police Commissioner Ralph Weston was none too secure. He was positive that he would be summoned to discuss the Bellew death; and he wanted to leave no loophole for criticism on the part of the police commissioner.
Hence Cardona, with the study as his headquarters; began a series of lengthy conferences with the Bellew family, and with business associates of Bellew who were summoned to the house. Late afternoon was waning when Cardona had thoroughly convinced himself that there were no hidden enemies or dangerous negotiations in the life of Henry Bellew.
Riding into Manhattan on a Suburban train, Cardona read an account of Bellew’s death in an afternoon newspaper. The report pleased him for two reasons. Bellew’s death had not only been heralded as an accident, but it had also crowded out references to the unsolved mystery at Felswood.
Accidental death was Cardona’s opinion. He had seen nothing to change it; just as he had seen nothing in the way of a clew to the deaths at Felswood. Yet, within the passage of a single day, Joe Cardona had actually seen much that pertained to deaths which it had been his business to investigate.
At Felswood, he had viewed the man who had delivered death to three persons aboard Suburban trains.
At Belgrade, he had talked to the man who was responsible for the death of Henry Bellew. In the millionaire’s study he had held direct evidence in his hand — three postcards that had been mailed by the hidden instigator of all four crimes!
Opportunity had been with Joe Cardona to-day. Still, he had not even learned of the existence of a hidden, insidious fiend who called himself The Death Giver.
Detective Cardona had seen nothing!
CHAPTER V. THADE STRIKES
THE gloomy hallway of Henry Bellew’s mansion was deserted. Evening had come, and the last feeble rays of outside light that penetrated that dim spot sent long streaks of darkness flickering across the floor.
The place seemed a veritable abode of death.
Barcomb, the butler, came down the stairs from the second floor. The man had been up there ever since Cardona had left the house. Barcomb crossed the hallway, solemnly heading toward the dining room.
If the gloom of the place impressed the man, Barcomb did not show it. He was used to this somber atmosphere.
The moment that Barcomb was gone, a silent motion occurred within the hall. A shade of darkness moved along the floor. It rose toward the wall, and developed into a tall, spectral shape of human proportions. A figure clad in black was gliding toward the closed door of Henry Bellew’s study.
The portal opened under a master touch. The tall form moved inward. The door closed softly. A blackened outline showed against the window. A hand drew down the shade. A click sounded, and a light appeared above the desk. The rays of illumination showed the form of the black-garbed personage who had entered the room.
The Shadow had entered Henry Bellew’s study. Unseen, unheard, this invisible stranger had made his way to the spot where death had struck. His blackened shape was a phantom figure, buried within the shrouding folds of a long, flowing cloak.
The features of The Shadow were obscured by the upturned collar of the cloak, and by the broad brim of a dark slouch hat. The only spots of light that appeared amid this mass of blackness were the eyes of The Shadow — burning orbs that sparkled as they studied the features of the room.
The telephone — a new instrument which had replaced the faulty one — rested innocently upon the desk.
All else was as Henry Bellew had left it. Cardona’s search had not disturbed the effects in this study. A low laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips. Seating himself at the desk, the black-garbed phantom began a search through the drawers.
Minutes went by while long, white hands were at work. These hands had been incased in thin gloves; now they were unclad, and they seemed like detached creatures of life as they moved to and fro in front of that somber being of black. Upon the third finger of the left hand appeared a rounded spot of iridescence — a gleaming gem that sparkled with ever-changing hues.
This was The Shadow’s girasol — the priceless fire opal which always adorned his hand. The token of The Shadow, this stone, with its altering colors, was as mysterious as the man himself. Sparkling vivid blue; then rich purple; finally changing to a deep crimson, this gem constantly sent forth shafts of light that resembled the sparks of a fire.
THE hands stopped as they came from a desk drawer. The eyes of The Shadow were focused upon three postcards. One by one, the hands lay these objects upon the table.
The keen eyes noted the postmarks. The cards had been received three days in a row — the last had arrived yesterday morning. All were addressed to Henry Bellew.
The hands turned over the cards. The eyes studied the cryptic messages. Each card bore a jumble of words that was identicaclass="underline"
TOTEM DAYLIGHT AGAIN. MANDATE WILLING DIET ONSET YOURSELF TRAINER
ITSELF CANTER BEHALF ANYWHERE ONESELF IRIS WISHING WATCHING OUTSIDE
The Shadow’s finger ran through the words one by one. It stopped momentarily upon the words
“yourself,” “itself,” and “oneself.” These, to The Shadow, were a key. The finger indicated the words
“willing,” “wishing,” and “watching.”
A soft laugh came from the concealed lips. Upon a sheet of paper, the hand of The Shadow quickly wrote out the message which appeared upon the cards.
Then, with swift motion, the same hand began to cross out a portion of each word. In the message, only double-syllabled words appeared; and in each case the hand eliminated the second syllable. The result was this statement:
TO DAY A MAN WILL DIE ON YOUR TRAIN IT CAN BE ANY ONE I WISH WATCH OUT
“To-day a man will die on your train. It can be any one I wish. Watch out.”
This was the word that Henry Bellew had received. Prophetic statements which had puzzled the millionaire. Why? Because he had not known their meaning until he had received a further message.
When? This morning!
These facts were obvious to The Shadow. The shuddering echoes of a sinister, whispered laugh resounded through the room, awakening the very fears that had impressed Henry Bellew upon that fatal morning.
Some one had sent these prophetic messages, and had followed them with a threat that Henry Bellew had not heeded. That was why death had struck. To The Shadow, the slayer’s insidious purpose was plain. The deaths of Felswood were undeniably linked with the killing of Henry Bellew.
But who had delivered the stroke of death? The Shadow’s new laugh betokened wisdom. The facts of the supposedly accidental death had been printed in the newspapers. Statements of family and servants were public.
Well did The Shadow know that the actual murderer still lurked about this house; and also did he know — from the facts that he had learned here and at Felswood — that a master mind was the power behind it all.
The postcards disappeared beneath The Shadow’s cloak. Thin, black gloves slipped over the long, white hands. The light clicked out. A swish sounded softly in the darkness as The Shadow moved toward the window, and raised the blind. Suddenly, total silence followed.