Some one was outside the door of the study!
THE SHADOW, invisible, listened to the slight sounds of a person opening the door. A few moments later, a man was within the room, the door shut behind him.
Like The Shadow, the newcomer made his way to the window, lowered the blind, and then went to the desk. The light clicked, and the cold face of Barcomb, the butler, appeared above the table.
The man exhibited only the slightest trace of nervousness as he opened the desk drawer and rummaged among the papers. He was looking at the very spot where he had seen Detective Cardona drop the postcards; but Barcomb could not find the desired objects. His breath came in long, sighing heaves; then broke off as the man realized that the postcards were not there.
“Gone! Gone!”
Barcomb’s whisper was an awed one — a pair of words tinged with fear and disappointment. The butler drew back from the desk and started, wild-eyed, about him. He saw a darkened corner of the room, but did not suspect that a living being was there until he spied two glowing eyes that seemed to materialize themselves from the gloom.
With a frightened gasp, Barcomb cringed backward against the desk, and watched a tall figure emerge from that corner. The butler’s bulging eyes were fixed upon the muzzle of an automatic that extended from a black-gloved hand.
“The Shadow!”
Barcomb’s words were scarcely audible. They were questioning words that received an answer in the form of a low laugh that responded from The Shadow’s mystic lips.
A cowardly villain was trapped. Barcomb had betrayed himself. An agent of the master mind who called himself The Death Giver, Barcomb was now in the toils of the grim avenger who feared neither threats nor machinations.
Barcomb’s utterance, moreover, had proven that the butler was either a crook or one conversant with affairs of the underworld. All men of gangdom feared The Shadow. The gasp of recognition classified Barcomb as a criminal.
“Speak!”
The word came in The Shadow’s sinister whisper. It made Barcomb quail. The butler tried to shake his head. He stared upward to see The Shadow moving forward. Barcomb’s eyes seemed fascinated by the burning orbs that shone before him. Still, some hidden fear prevented him from succumbing to the hypnotic stare.
“There is some one whom you fear,” came The Shadow’s voice. “Some one whom you have obeyed. Some one whom you dare not betray.”
The voice changed to a shuddering laugh. The sardonic mirth awakened new fears in Barcomb’s mind.
He saw The Shadow as a present menace — not as a hidden threat.
“You fear death,” whispered The Shadow. “Speak to me, then. Otherwise you will receive death now!”
Still, Barcomb refused to open his lips. Again, The Shadow laughed as he divined the fear that was within the butler’s mind.
“You fear terrible death from your master,” were The Shadow’s sepulchral words. “You fear torture before death. I promise you the same if you do not speak to me!”
THE tone was irresistible. Barcomb began to succumb. The Shadow had plucked his thoughts from his mind. Barcomb knew that he could expect no mercy. His head was nodding as he slumped into a chair.
“You will speak?”
Barcomb nodded as he heard The Shadow’s words.
“Who is your master?” came The Shadow’s question.
“Thade,” faintly responded Barcomb. “Thade.”
“Who is Thade?”
“The Death Giver.”
“Where is he?”
“I do not know.”
“Tell all that you know.”
Barcomb’s shoulders quivered as the man heard The Shadow’s order. Try as he could, the butler was unable to avoid the glare of the eyes above him. In faltering phrases, spaced by futile attempts to dally, Barcomb spoke to The Shadow:
“Thade… He calls himself The Death Giver… He knows too much about me… I went to him — I was summoned there… He made me promise to obey… Death… Death…”
Barcomb’s eyes had gained a wild, terrified glow. Even the present menace of The Shadow could turn his frenzied mind from the thought of some horror in the past. The man’s face showed that he had become the minion of a mighty master — one who had gained complete domination over him.
“Death!” Barcomb’s dry lips spat the word in a hoarse tone. “Thade gives death! When others kill, they kill for Thade! They kill like I have killed… Bellew… I came here to kill him. I arranged everything — a few months ago… Yes, I killed Bellew, because I was afraid Thade would kill me!”
With an effort, Barcomb raised his hands to his face. He covered his eyes to escape the stern gaze of The Shadow; and the blotting out must have brought a fierce vision to the man’s brain, for his lips moved incoherently. The memory of a terrible scene had gripped his mind.
“I — saw — Thade — kill—”
In disjointed monotone, Barcomb made this statement. His lips trembled; and he added:
“Thade — will — kill — me — unless—”
Barcomb’s hands dropped. His eyes, flushed with an insane glow, were staring at The Shadow almost unseeing. In a few moments of recollection Barcomb had gained the vision of another being — one whose power had been indelibly impressed upon him.
“Let me tell you about Thade!” gasped Barcomb, in a new tone. “He told me that I was to obey his orders. He gave me this—”
The butler was fumbling at his vest pocket. The Shadow did not stay him. Barcomb’s odd actions indicated that his mind was wandering. His hand came forth, carrying a heavy watch, which he held before the eyes of The Shadow.
“Thade told me I must never tell,” blurted Barcomb. “He told me that I must ignore all questions. He said that if great danger came, this would save me, when I pressed—”
THE man’s thumb was on the stem of the watch. Pushing the swivel aside, Barcomb started to press the winder.
The man’s action showed his thought. In his hand, Barcomb believed that he held a weapon that would kill his adversary!
The Shadow’s arm had swung forward, but as Barcomb pressed the stem of the watch and grinned with fiendish hatred, The Shadow instinctively swung aside to avoid the throw which the butler was about to make.
The watch never left Barcomb’s hand. The tall form of The Shadow dropped beside the desk, and a grip of steel caught Barcomb’s forearm.
Had the watch been what the butler supposed — a deadly weapon which would bring doom to the man it struck, the effort would have been useless.
But something occurred which neither Barcomb nor The Shadow had anticipated. As Barcomb pressed the stem, the case of the watch sprang open, and a long, pivoted needle jabbed downward, deep into the butler’s wrist.
With a terrified cry, Barcomb dropped the watch. It clattered upon the desk and dropped to the floor.
Barcomb’s body swayed and collapsed. The man’s futile fingers spread out upon the desk as his falling head thumped against the woodwork.
The form of The Shadow was bending over Barcomb. Gloved hands raised the butler’s face. Barcomb’s eyes were glassy; a strange, unhealthy ruddiness was creeping over his features. His lips moved slowly, and his words came In a dying moan:
“Thade, The Death Giver. He has punished me. I have told… Told about Thade… Thade… He has… killed—”
As the gloved hands relaxed, Barcomb’s head dropped to the table. The man was dead.
The Shadow stooped and carefully lifted the watch from the floor to examine the strange device beneath the light. The glittering needle told its story. Charged with a virulent poison, it had brought quick death to the man whose flesh it had entered.
Thade! The master mind who called himself The Death Giver! The Shadow had learned of such a being from the lips of the monster’s minion!