EYES toward Tharxell. The man was quivering. Edwin Berlett’s tones began again.
“Through Carlos Mendoza,” declared the third accuser, “I learned the truth concerning crime. Mendoza pieced the riddle. I am but his spokesman; He is the one who saw through the cunning game.
“A master schemer planned gigantic swindles. He spoke to millionaires. He showed them how — through his device — they could avoid inheritance taxes. Each gave the schemer a large sum — Dilgin’s contribution was a million — and he in turn sent each man to a duped lawyer. Those poor chaps held the keys, to boxes already empty. For the crook kept their money for himself.
“He had the millionaires go to Lester Dorrington as the lawyer to handle their estates. Dorrington knew none of the men who held the keys. Thus conspiracy was avoided. The vicious schemer, however, chose Dorrington with a purpose. He knew that in emergency, he could sign up some killer whom Dorrington had represented — for instance, Whitey Calban — to slay the lawyers who held the keys.
“How was he to protect himself? There lay the deepest measure of his cunning. By naming himself as an extra dupe. By pretending that he, too, had been approached by a wealthy man whose estate had been handled by Lester Dorrington. He, like his victims — Verbeck, Durton, Keith — was ready to hold up a key and cry for pity!”
No name was needed. The accusing words told the final story. All eyes turned toward Kelwood Markin.
The old lawyer’s face was purple. With clawlike hands upon the arms of his chair, he was trying to rise while his lips sputtered vain epithets.
“It fits!” exclaimed Dorrington, leaping to his feet. “Berlett is right! Markin never received a key from Rufus Gilwood! I remember now — I had known Gilwood slightly before he came to me to make his will. He was not one of the mystery clients.”
“You did well, Dorrington,” commented Berlett, from the door. “Markin failed to pin the murders on you. That is why he had Tharxell plant the mechanism in the fire place.”
“Tharxell called up so we’d stop the gas,” broke in Cardona, suddenly. “The game is up, commissioner. We’ve got our man—”
As Cardona pounced toward Markin, the old lawyer leaped to his feet. He yanked a revolver from his pocket with amazing speed. Wildly, he aimed toward the man whom he had come to hate the most — Edwin Berlett.
Caught off guard, Berlett responded as quickly as he could. He reached for his own gun, but his action was belated. Markin’s aim was ready as Berlett’s hand came in view. To those who watched, Berlett seemed doomed to the death that he had escaped.
THEN came an unexpected roar. An automatic flashed from the darkness beyond the opened door. A whistling bullet, aimed past Berlett’s arm, found its mark. That shot spilled Kelwood Markin on the floor. Writhing, the unmasked fiend coughed out his evil life.
With that shot came the weird rise of a taunting laugh. The triumph of The Shadow sounded through the paneled room. As Tharxell, yanking a gun, was beating Cardona to a shot, a second roar was followed by a cry from the man who had aided Markin. Tharxell’s arm dropped while the laugh broke into its high crescendo.
As Howland also yanked a revolver, the smoking muzzle of the automatic turned straight toward the secretary. The third shot, however, was unnecessary. As The Shadow’s laugh produced its shivering echoes, Cardona pounced upon Howland before the man could gain an aim.
As Edwin Berlett stepped inward, the men on their feet were staring toward the door. They saw nothing more than blackness. A gloved hand was dropping the automatic beneath the folds of a cloak. A swishing form was already making its departure. The Shadow had spoken — with bullets.
Joe Cardona understood. He knew why Markin’s schemes had failed. The old man had told Calban to tip off his gorillas with the false story regarding Dorrington. Scramming, Calban would have left the others for the dragnet.
It was The Shadow who had spoiled that scheme. He had begun the fight that had ended in the wiping out of Calban’s mob. Again, he had spoiled Markin’s last bet by placing Edwin Berlett as the witness of the old fiend’s final scheme of treachery.
JOE CARDONA knew that Edwin Berlett’s incredible story must be true. For Joe knew the identity of the personage who had worked as Carlos Mendoza. The Shadow! His uncanny power; his mighty hand — these had brought justice as the final outcome.
Tharxell and Howland, pitiful tools who had known but shreds of Markin’s game, were blurting out their stories. Tharxell had formed contact with Whitey Calban. He had carried orders to the killer.
Howland confessed a knowledge of the swindles. Berlett and Dorrington smiled in grim satisfaction as the secretary stated that Markin, a miserly hoarder, had stowed away the funds that he had gained. The keys to deposit boxes that Howland kept in the study would open the old fiend’s hidden coffers.
A million would be gained to save the Dilgin Refining Corporation. Edwin Berlett and Lester Dorrington, friends at the finish, could arrange the financial aid that the great company required.
But these discoveries were mere words to Acting Inspector Joe Cardona. The star sleuth was finding answers to his mental questions. He could picture The Shadow listening in at Markin’s, finding a clue to crime as he heard the statements of the cunning fiend.
Murders had struck while The Shadow was absent. Another crime had succeeded through the victim’s own blunder. These had been triumphs for the insidious schemer, Kelwood Markin; but the final victory had been The Shadow’s.
As he stared at the dead form of the fiend before him, Joe Cardona could still hear echoes of The Shadow’s laugh. Whispers of triumphant mirth still seemed to linger as tokens of the vanished conqueror.
Righteous men had been cleared of suspicion. Millions would be restored to their proper owners. A murderous monster had perished. Justice had prevailed — through The Shadow!