Thade! A fantastic murderer, whose henchmen did his bidding. Barcomb had killed for Thade; and all the while, the butler had believed that in his pocket he carried a sure weapon that would enable him to foil the most formidable foe.
That was true. Barcomb had foiled The Shadow. But it had not been as Barcomb had expected; it had been as Thade intended. For this monster who called himself The Death Giver had provided a sure way to rid himself of any underling who might fail in an appointed task!
Barcomb had unwittingly died by his own hand. The real killer was Thade, The Death Giver, who had supplied the man with this strange weapon for emergency. The Shadow, by his uncanny presence, had brought confession to Barcomb’s lips, only to have it ended incomplete by the master method which Thade had devised to do away with his servants and protect himself!
LONG, solemn silence followed. The death-dealing watch closed in The Shadow’s hand. The object disappeared beneath the black cloak. Gloved hands lifted the telephone, and a whispered voice called a number.
A quiet tone came back across the wire:
“Burbank speaking.”
The Shadow was in communication with his hidden contact man. Burbank was the aid who kept in touch with the active agents of The Shadow when they were engaged upon investigation.
“Report on Vincent,” came The Shadow’s whisper.
“Watching the home of Vernon Quinley,” was Burbank’s quiet reply. “Established communication from a store two blocks from the house. Last report fifteen minutes ago. Quinley at home. Vincent awaits instructions.”
“Order to continue.”
The telephone clicked. The Shadow, tall and spectral, stood viewing the dead form of Barcomb. Here, the hand of Thade had plucked a betraying agent from The Shadow’s grasp. Premeditated death had intervened to seal the lips that were giving forth their story.
What new deaths might the future hold? To frustrate them, The Shadow must seek the man behind these murders. He must meet Thade himself.
Barcomb, who had slain Henry Bellew, was gone; but there remained another. Vernon Quinley, resident of Felswood, had been under The Shadow’s surveillance for twenty-four hours. Perpetrator of the deaths aboard the Suburban’s trains, Quinley, too, was an agent of The Death Giver.
The Shadow had been waiting for the man to betray himself; now, with the knowledge of the greater mind behind the crimes, The Shadow could force Quinley to a betrayal of his master!
The door of the study opened softly. The black shape glided through. The door closed. The Shadow was gone on a new mission. Alone beside the desk, awaiting inevitable discovery, lay the dead and silent form of Barcomb.
The instrument that had caused the butler’s death was gone. The body remained, a new mystery to puzzle the police. Only The Shadow knew the truth.
Thade, The Death Giver, had struck down another victim!
CHAPTER VI. THE NEXT VICTIM
HARRY VINCENT was standing within a telephone booth at the Felswood Pharmacy. He had found this place an ideal one from which to establish contact with Burbank. The telephone booths were near a side door; and no one noticed those who entered or left. Moreover, the store was located beside a through-traffic street, and a constant influx of strangers patronized it.
Burbank’s voice came over the wire. Harry delivered a brief report. The situation was the same at Quinley’s house. Burbank’s response was to continue watching. Harry hung up the receiver and left the booth.
Outside the store, he entered his coupe and drove toward Quinley’s home. He parked across the street, and extinguished the lights. His car was inconspicuous here.
While watching the house on the other side of the street, Harry reflected upon the mission which he had undertaken for The Shadow. It was early evening at present. Only a few hours before, Harry had been summoned to the office of Rutledge Mann. There, he had received special orders.
In response, he had waited in the lobby of a small office building on Forty-eighth Street. There, he had picked up the trail of a man with a Vandyke beard. This individual, so Harry had been informed, was Vernon Quinley, a manufacturer’s representative who had an office in New York, and a home in the small town of Felswood, Long Island.
It was obvious to Harry, from the time he began his trip in Quinley’s wake, that this man must have some connection with the strange deaths at Felswood station.
For years, Harry had been a trusted agent of The Shadow. Time and again, he had aided his mysterious chief in relentless warfare against supercrime. Harry Vincent owed his life to The Shadow; and he was constant and fearless in his duty, for he had the utmost faith in The Shadow’s prowess.
Harry had read accounts of the unsolved deaths at Felswood. He had expected The Shadow to take a hand. With instructions to follow Quinley, Harry was positive that The Shadow must have unearthed some hidden clew in connection with the unexplainable killings.
But how did Vernon Quinley figure in the matter?
Harry’s orders were quite specific. He was to watch Quinley’s home; to report any suspicious actions on the part of the man.
On the train, Harry had noted only that Quinley was nervous. At Felswood, Harry had found his own car waiting on the parking lot. It had been taken there by some one — probably The Shadow. Quinley had driven away in a cab; Harry had followed.
Another point referred to Quinley’s garage. Harry had been told by Mann to watch all that happened there; and that if Quinley went out in his car, he was to follow. This duty involved frequent reports to Burbank, and was to continue until Harry was relieved.
CONSIDERING the situation, Harry decided that some mission must have drawn The Shadow away from this spot. In the past, Harry had done vigil in The Shadow’s stead. This appeared to be another instance. Because of it, Harry was confronted with a dilemma.
Two courses were open: one was to remain watchful, here in the car, as a passive spectator; the other was to play a more active part by approaching Quinley’s house for closer observation. The first method was the safer; the second offered greater opportunity for tangible results.
The Shadow always permitted his agents to use their own judgment in a case like this. Harry, after a few minutes of waiting, decided to introduce the more daring procedure.
He slipped from his coupe and stole up the driveway toward Quinley’s house. A lighted window lured him. Harry peered in through a screen. He saw Quinley seated at a table, talking over the telephone.
The window was open; despite that fact, Harry could barely distinguish the man’s words. Quinley’s tones were cautious and tense. Harry tried to make out the obscure conversation.
“It’s all finished, then,” Quinley was saying. “Good… Good… I’ll get rid of it to-night… Yes, I’ll pack it in the car… The other, for emergencies? No. Of course I haven’t touched it… Keep it in case of investigators. Yes, I’ll have to keep it… You had it installed. I don’t know how it operates… I see… You will remove it later… Yes, I’ll remember…”
Quinley’s back had been toward the other side of the room. The man’s face turned, and Harry could see a pallor above the Vandyke. Vernon Quinley was evidently listening to disconcerting words.
“Forget?” Quinley’s voice was suddenly plaintive. “How could I forget… Yes, that thing that was not human… No, no! Don’t remind me of it!”
The man was shaky when he set down the telephone. Harry saw him turning toward the window. It was time to drop from sight.
Lying beside the wall, Harry heard Quinley go from the room. A moment later lights appeared on the front of the garage. Quinley had turned a switch in the house.