“What’s more, I don’t think Howland was in the living room alone at any time. He helped me plant the dictograph here by the door. More than that, while we were looking for places, we happened to take a look at that fire place in the bedroom. This gimmick” — Cardona raised the mechanism as he spoke — “wasn’t there at seven o’clock. I’d have seen it if it had been.”
“Which leaves us one man,” announced Weston, sternly. “Lester Dorrington. Was he alone in the living room?”
“Yes,” rejoined Cardona. “When Mr. Markin came to get the key—”
“That’s it!” cried Weston. “The fellow was too bold for once. He thought he was alone with Markin. He didn’t know that we were listening in. Well, Markin” — the commissioner turned to the old attorney — “I’m sorry that this happened. But you’ve pulled through it — a few minutes of gas didn’t hurt you. You’re lucky; and what’s more, we’re lucky.”
Seizing the mechanism from Cardona’s hand, Weston held it before the eyes of all. The commissioner was impressive as he spoke.
“We’re going to Dorrington’s with this!” decided Weston. “This is the time the fox will answer questions. Here is the evidence of crime. Come, Cardona; we will take the witnesses with us to Dorrington’s home!”
Five minutes later, Weston and his companions had departed from the house. A light had been left on in the hall. It revealed the figure of The Shadow, coming from the stairs. The phantom shape merged with the darkness of the study.
A dial clicked a number on the telephone. Then came an eerie, whispered voice. The Shadow, speaking to Burbank, was giving orders to the contact man. The black-cloaked master was planning his own climax for the scene to come at Dorrington’s.
CHAPTER XX
ATTORNEYS SPEAK
“STATE your case, Markin.”
Commissioner Weston was the speaker. He was the central figure in a group that occupied the study of Lester Dorrington’s Long Island home. Weston had taken the chair behind the lawyer’s desk. On his right front sat Kelwood Markin; on the left, Lester Dorrington himself.
Joe Cardona was on guard at the central door, directly opposite Weston. Tharxell and Howland were seated in a corner. The study, a paneled room with luxurious furnishings, had been turned into an inquisition chamber.
“There lies the evidence.” Kelwood Markin pointed emphatically toward the desk, on which lay the mechanism found in the old man’s fire place. “It proves that an attempt was made upon my life.
“I am a lawyer who was approached by a client of Lester Dorrington’s, namely, Rufus Gilwood. I was given the key to a safe deposit box that presumably contained funds for distribution. That box was empty after Gilwood’s death.
“Three lawyers have been murdered. Verbeck, Durton, Keith — their deaths indicate that they, like myself, were approached by clients of Lester Dorrington. We have even decided upon the particular clients in question. You, commissioner, hold the threaded facts in this astounding case.
“I affirm that Torrence Dilgin, who died in Rio de Janeiro, was the last of the clients whom Dorrington swindled. I believe that Dilgin tried to speak before he died — to name Verbeck as the man who held his key. I believe that Edwin Berlett, returning to America, was murdered before the other victims.
“Lester Dorrington is a master schemer. He sent his clients to different lawyers, each with a key to a safe deposit box. Dorrington robbed those boxes. I, like the other lawyers, was duped. In Dilgin’s case, however, Dorrington feared exposure, because of the notoriety which involved the death of Edwin Berlett.
“Forced to slay Hugo Verbeck, he decided to continue. He used a gangleader, Whitey Calban, to do his dirty work. When Calban was killed, he had no other agent. He was forced to use measures of his own to do away with me. We know that Dorrington must have placed the mechanism in my fire place. I demand his arrest. I state the charge. Murder!”
GRIM silence succeeded. Lester Dorrington had not flinched. Virtually a prisoner, he seemed waiting for Kelwood Markin to be done. After the tense pause, he turned to Weston.
“You may speak,” ordained the commissioner.
“These facts are interesting,” announced Dorrington, in an easy tone. “They bring out points that had previously puzzled me. Kelwood Markin is right. There is a master schemer who has designed death. A crooked lawyer swindled millionaires by robbing their safe deposit boxes and letting other attorneys be the dupes.”
Howland was taking down the statement in shorthand. Dorrington did not appear to be perturbed. He paused impressively; then resumed.
“The crook was evidently a remarkable schemer,” declared Dorrington. “Our friend Markin has reasoned well; but his chain of thought ceases too abruptly. Let us picture this human spider, spinning his web. He chose innocent lawyers to whom he sent millionaires. But he did not stop there.
“He foresaw the danger of exposure. He feared that the men who held the keys might testify against him. So he went further than Markin has stated. He was too wise to handle the estates of the millionaires whom he swindled. He gave them advice; they followed it. He sent each of them to a different man so far as the keys were concerned; but he sent all of them to the same lawyer to handle their estates!”
Profound silence greeted this persuasive sally. Dorrington’s cold logic was a refutation to Markin’s accusations. The criminal lawyer proceeded with his case.
“I was the attorney whom the schemer picked to make out the wills. I, too, was approached by clients whom I did not expect. I, an attorney who handled criminal cases, was amazed when such men as Parkinson Watts, Hector Mell, and Torrence Dilgin came to me regarding their wills.
“I knew that some one must have sent them. I could not place the man. They gave me no information. So I accepted their fat fees and felt grateful. But all the while I was looking for a game. I was trying to find the hidden lawyer who stood behind the scheme.
“Torrence Dilgin died suddenly in Rio. Then came murders in New York. Ace Feldon told me that Whitey Calban was spreading my name among gorillas. I realized that the slain lawyers might be concerned somehow with the mysterious estates. Knowing nothing of the safe deposit boxes, I could not fathom the actual game. I appreciated but one important fact: namely, that my own safety was in danger.
“I was to be the goat for murder. I handled my cards as best I could. I had my suspicions, but my story, should I tell it, would have seemed more astounding than Markin’s. All the while that I have been maintaining silence, I have been looking for the real crook in the game.”
AGAIN, Dorrington paused. This time, he looked from man to man and finally steadied his gaze upon the commissioner. He put a question to Weston.
“May I count,” he asked, “upon no interruptions, no matter how absurd my story may seem at its beginning?”
“Yes,” came the assurance.
“Very well.” Keenness showed on Dorrington’s cadaverous countenance. “I wondered until recently why Torrence Dilgin had made me attorney for his estate. Dilgin already had the services of a competent corporation lawyer, namely, Edwin Berlett.
“When the Dilgin Corporation sent Berlett to Rio, he did not seem pleased with the assignment. I called upon an ex-stool pigeon — Squeezer Tifkin, to whom I had been of service — to make sure that Berlett actually departed on his plane.
“Berlett went to Rio. Then came the news of Dilgin’s death; following it, the report of Berlett’s assassination and the burial of Dilgin’s body at sea. The two occurrences made me think. A boatload of passengers saw the lowering of Dilgin’s coffin, but not one had seen the South American killers throw Edwin Berlett overboard.