The Shadow was dead! The big job was complete! The labors of the Five Chameleons had reached the desired climax! Deacon's close inspection had proved that all was well. The solemn-faced man was congratulating himself.
But Deacon had studied buildings, only. His keen eyes had ignored the ground beneath his feet. Back on the sidewalk in front of the undertaking establishment, lay a trail of evidence that he had overlooked.
A splotch of blood — another farther on — a third, glaring beneath the light of a street lamp, across from the undertaking parlor. A fourth — a fifth — a sixth then the trail ended. These marks traced the first stages of the path which The Shadow had followed.
Chapter XXI — The Symbol of the Shadow
Martha Delmar was alone again tonight. She had grown accustomed to loneliness. Since her life had been racked by grief, she had instinctively shunned companionship. Only once had she unburdened her troubled thoughts; last night, she had spoken to The Shadow, and had gained new hope from his strength.
The Shadow had gone; but his departure had left Martha Delmar confident that her new friend would succeed in unraveling the mystery that surrounded the death of her father and the arrest of Hubert Salisbury.
The Shadow had said that he would return. Martha wondered if he would visit her tonight. It was not yet midnight, and somehow, Martha connected that mystic hour with the spectral figure of The Shadow. She was determined to wait until long after twelve, in hope that he would come. Martha's intuition told her that deep plotting had occurred here in Middletown.
Dangerous schemers were at work. Pitted against them was a lone man, The Shadow.
Although Martha had no definite idea of who her enemies might be, she realized that their resources must be tremendous. So far, they had succeeded in their schemes.
She knew that secrecy alone could undermine these treacherous, dangerous plotters. Thus The Shadow could hope for no help from any one in Middletown, except herself. Once he revealed his hidden hand, the odds would be with the foe.
Who were the enemies? Only The Shadow knew. All persons in Middletown seemed hostile to Martha, but she knew that her many former friends were guided simply by popular opinion. Try as she might, she could not point to the ones who might be responsible. She had foolishly resorted to a vague condemnation of unknown enemies. It had brought her ridicule. But it had brought The Shadow, also! Since that strange meeting with the apparition in black, Martha had retained her confidence, and through her mind burned every detail of that eventful interview that had been both fantastic and real.
Strange, thought the girl, how The Shadow had arrived and left last night, opening and closing the heavy front door in spite of the strong locks which barred it. The very thought of the mysterious visit was awe-inspiring. Martha glanced toward the door of the room, half expecting to see The Shadow standing there.
As the girl stared into the gloomy hall, her nerves were tense, and her ears were as alert as her eyes. She fancied that she heard a slight sound from the floor below. She listened closely, and finally decided that it had been her imagination.
Then came another noise that convinced her that the first surmise had been correct. It was the sound of something dropping dully to the floor. It seemed to come from the stairs. Boldly, Martha arose and walked into the upstairs hall. Her heart was beating fast as she neared the stairs. She looked down along the steps, and stood petrified by momentary fright. A crumpled figure was lying on the stairs, a few steps up from the ground floor. The face was turned downward, the right arm was extended as though its white hand had tried to clutch the banister to avert a fall.
For a moment, the girl was worried; then she realized that this body was helpless. It lay as motionless as death. It wore no cloak or hat; the dark suit made it appear a huddled mass. The gray-streaked hair formed the only contrast to his somber appearance.
Martha descended the stairs. She gazed with pity upon the intruder. When she reached his side, she saw that he was unconscious. She placed her hands upon his body, and immediately noticed the wound in his left shoulder. The man's dark coat was blood-soaked.
The girl moved the body slightly. The left arm slipped free, and dangled loosely upon the stairs. Martha heard a slight click as the limp hand dropped to the step.
She touched the hand, and her eyes opened wide. Slowly, thoughtfully, she raised the hand into the light. Upon one finger was the gleaming gem which had burned its way into her memory. Even in this gloomy light, the vivid hues of the girasol glimmered with fantastic, changing colors. The symbol of The Shadow!
This was The Shadow!
He had been wounded, and he was close to death. He had come to her for aid. What could she do?
A sudden thought came to the girl. She realized that The Shadow's intention had been to reach her room, to show her the jewel that she remembered, and tell her how she could help him.
He had come, not as a mysterious form, but in the character of a man with gray hair.
The Shadow was playing a part, and it was probable that he had some sign of identification. The girl reached into the pockets of the man's coat. There she discovered a small card case. She withdrew it and found that it contained a stack of engraved cards, The uppermost card bore the name:
Henry Arnaud
The girl's mind worked swiftly. The housemaid was in the house, on the third floor. She could be called later. The chauffeur was no longer here. This week had ended his term of service.
Today had been his last. Martha knew that she could depend upon the maid-servant. But medical attention was needed. She thought of Doctor Joseph Merritt, the old family physician. He had been away from Middletown at the time of her father's death.
He was one of the few people who had called up to offer her condolences. That had been after his return to Middletown, when Martha was going through the first bitter stages of social ostracism. She had thanked Doctor Merritt for his kindness in phoning; but her pride and bitterness had restrained her from inviting the old family friend to call. Now, however, she felt that she might count on him in this terrible emergency.
She left the stairs and hurried to the telephone. She called Doctor Merritt's home. The physician answered. Martha asked him if he could come over right away.
The troubled tone of the girl's voice must have been noticed by the doctor. He asked for no explanations. He said that he would be there.
Martha called the maid. The woman had retired. Martha told her to get dressed, and to come downstairs. Then the girl went to the front door. It was closed, but not locked. She realized that The Shadow had opened it, but had been too weak to attempt to lock it behind him. A motor purred outside. Footsteps crunched on the gravel walk. Martha opened the door, and admitted Doctor Merritt. The physician looked at the girl in a puzzled manner. Martha gripped his arm and drew him into the hall.
She led him to the stairs, and Doctor Merritt stopped short as he saw the body there.