“I was seated here reading,” explained Zane, pointing to an opened book and pipe that lay on the table.
“I heard a sound at the door and thought that it must be Rowland. As I came to my feet, the door opened. I was covered by the three crooks.”
“What did they say to you?”
“One did all the talking. He was the fellow that you say is Steve Lagrin. He stated that they had knocked out Rowland; that I was to come along. I knew that if they got me in the hall, it would be my finish.”
“No doubt about that. They’d have slugged you like they did Rowland. So you put up a fight, eh?”
“Yes. From what Steve said, I figured they had come to get my cousin Perry as well as myself.
Fortunately, he had gone out. I realized that if the thugs dragged me out quietly, they could come back and get Perry when he returned.”
Cardona nodded.
“So I started the fight,” resumed Zane. “I grabbed the big fellow— Steve — and struggled with him. Then came shots and I saw Steve’s hand coming down. I tried to duck, but I guess his revolver hit me.”
Zane rubbed the side of his head as he finished speaking. Cardona looked thoughtful.
“Who fired the shots?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” admitted Zane. “It was like a nightmare. As I pounced on Steve, I heard what seemed like a ghostly laugh. Then the shots — then I was out. I seemed to be groping about. When I realized that I was still alive, I saw the bodies on the floor.”
“And after that?”
“I went to look for Rowland. I found him, half-dazed, by the side door. Right after that, the door came open and these officers appeared.”
“All right.” Cardona had been making notes. “Your testimony is satisfactory, Mr. Dolger. It’s plain that somebody helped you out. Probably other crooks who had it in for these fellows — men who trailed them here.”
“But that unearthly laugh—”
“You probably imagined it. Let’s stick to the fact that you heard shots. In your excited state, Mr. Dolger, you might have imagined the laugh; but not the shots.”
“That’s true,” agreed Zane, with a wan smile. “Then that’s my story, inspector. I heard shots; but I can’t say how many.”
JOE CARDONA smiled also. But the detective had a different reason. He could guess the author of that laugh. The Shadow. Again, the invisible menace of the underworld had stepped in to intervene against men of crime. Joe had figured that The Shadow was on Hoot Shelling’s trail.
But Joe had decided to keep his theory to himself. This report would undoubtedly go to Commissioner Wainwright Barth.
That high official had tabooed mention of The Shadow. He had defined the existence of such a personage as “poppycock” and “balderdash.” Barth, in classing The Shadow as a myth, had followed the course of his predecessor, Commissioner Ralph Weston.
Weston had learned his error. But Weston had temporarily relinquished his post as police commissioner.
So Joe Cardona had gone back to his former practice: that of covering all mention of The Shadow. Wars between crooks were a sufficient explanation when criminals were plucked off while engaged in deeds of evil.
“Let’s hear your story,” suggested Cardona, turning to Rowland.
Before the servant could speak, Zane Dolger interrupted. Something had occurred to the young man. His tone was anxious as he addressed Cardona.
“My cousin knows nothing about what has happened here,” put in Zane. “Wouldn’t it be wise to inform him at once? He is over at the apartment of James Jackling.”
“What’s the address?”
Zane gave it.
“And the phone number?”
Zane added that information; Cardona jotted it down. Briskly, the detective took the telephone and put in calls. By the time he had completed them, all was arranged.
“That was Jackling that I talked to,” Joe explained to Zane, who had caught but one half of the conversations. “He’ll keep your cousin Perry there until Detective Sergeant Markham arrives from headquarters. You heard me call Markham. He’s on his way. He’ll accompany your cousin back here.”
“Good!” commended Zane.
“Ready for your statement,” said Joe to Rowland, the butler. “Give it in detail.”
“I WAS seated in the kitchen, sir,” explained Rowland, wearily, “reading a book, sir — one which I had taken from here in the library. I believe the volume is still in the outer kitchen, sir. It is the third of a set—’The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire’—”
“Never mind the name of the book,” interrupted Joe Cardona. “Go ahead with the story. I want your statement of what happened after that.”
Zane Dolger smiled. He had allowed Rowland to take the book from the library when the servant had apologetically entered, earlier in the evening. What amused Zane was Rowland’s preciseness. The servant seldom had much to say; evidently his anxiety to give every detail had made him loquacious.
“It was after Mr. Perry had gone,” resumed Rowland. “I was in the lower hall when he departed with Mr. Jackling. I went back into the kitchen, sir, to resume my reading. It was then that a slight noise attracted my attention.”
“What kind of a noise?”
“It seemed like a door opening, sir. The side door. I went to investigate. Something struck me from the dark” — Rowland paused to touch the back of his head — “and I remembered nothing for a time.
“Then I seemed to come to my senses when Mr. Zane found me. I–I actually wondered what had happened, sir. It was a surprise, indeed it was.”
“You did not see the intruders?”
“No, sir.”
“All right.” Cardona arose. “We’ll have two men on duty outside the house, Mr. Dolger. That’s for tonight. To-morrow we can decide if further protection is needed. But I doubt that you will require it.”
“Why not?” inquired Zane.
“Because,” replied Cardona. “Those gorillas looked like they were here for a burglary job. They tried threats when they encountered you. Tried to make it look like they had it in for you and your cousin. Unless you expected threats from—”
“Not at all,” broke in Zane, promptly. “I think you are right, Mr. Cardona. Burglary must have been their motive.”
“That being the case,” decided Joe, “their pals will stay clear of here. They’d be dubs to come back to a spot where some of the gang hit trouble. Give me a call to-morrow.”
“Very well.”
Cardona was about to leave; then, as an afterthought, he decided to await the arrival of Perry and Markham. The two came in about fifteen minutes later. Perry listened while he heard Zane’s story.
“My cousin is right,” declared Perry, emphatically. “We have no enemies. He was in business in California; I have come from abroad. Those thugs were here for robbery — nothing else.”
“Then I can take the men off duty in the morning,” decided Joe. “But you’d better give me a call at headquarters.”
FIVE minutes later, Perry and Zane were alone. Cardona and Markham had gone back to headquarters.
The policemen had taken up outside duty. Rowland had retired to the kitchen. The two heirs began a conversation in an undertone.
“You did great work, Zane,” commended Perry. “That was the first thrust. If we had expected it so soon, I would never have left this house tonight.”
“Do you think they have learned that we gained the coffer?” asked Zane, anxiously. “By murdering the two of us, those unknown schemers might have had a clear path to regain our grandfather’s wealth.”
“I don’t know, Zane. Maybe our three enemies — we are assuming there are three — decided that we might know too much. Maybe they wanted to eliminate us to be sure. At the same time, if their signets bear the secret — like Phraytag’s — they may have visited the hiding place, to learn that the coffer was gone.”