“Wait here, Jerry,” he said. “I’m going up to the corner. I’ll be right back.”
A cab had pulled up ahead. Mullrick did not notice it. As he neared the corner, he drew the letter from his pocket; holding it close to his body, he reached out with his other hand to post the letter.
At that moment, a tall man stepped from behind him and thrust a long arm forward toward the box. Mullrick saw three envelopes in a gloved hand; then, as the stranger withdrew to give Mullrick precedence, the gloved fingers lost their hold, and the loose envelopes dropped to the sidewalk.
“Sorry,” said Mullrick, stepping back instinctively.
Looking down, he saw that the other man was stooping to pick up his letters. With a smile, Mullrick decided that the posting of his own letter was more important. He again reached for the box.
The Shadow’s burning gaze turned upward. From the spot below, his eyes saw the address on Mullrick’s letter. Then Mullrick was turning away. With high-buttoned coat and cocked gray hat, the stoop-shouldered man was walking back to join Jerry Herston.
The Shadow laughed as he glided away from the mail box. He had finished with Harland Mullrick for tonight. The Shadow had learned all that he wished to know. The third-letter had been mailed. The Shadow knew the name of the man who would receive it.
If Sidney Cooperdale should choose to confer with Harland Mullrick, The Shadow would be ready. He, the mysterious being of the darkness, would be there to watch for tokens of impending death!
CHAPTER XIII
THE MAN ON LONG ISLAND
SIDNEY COOPERDALE was seated in the living room of his Long Island bungalow home. A one-story building located near other houses of the same type, this formed a spot of seclusion for the man who had formerly spent time with archaeological expeditions in many parts of the world.
Cooperdale was a big, overbearing man with sharp eyes that peered from beneath bushy eyebrows. Although well along in the years of middle age, he showed a powerful physique and a determination that produced a perpetual scowl upon his face.
Cooperdale, although he had never been a full-fledged archaeologist, had managed to gain his share of spoils when on expeditions. He had shown a marked ability in accumulating objects of lesser value which he had sold to collectors. The result was that Cooperdale had retired while still in his prime.
It was dinner time. Cooperdale’s servant, a solemn-faced fellow, was entering the bungalow with a supply of groceries. Cooperdale glowered. The servant was tardy.
“What’s been keeping you, Lowder?” he demanded. “I expected to find you here when I came in.”
“Saturday, Mr. Cooperdale,” returned Lowder, in a placid tone. “Every one seems to be attending to their marketing.”
“All right,” growled Cooperdale. “Any telephone calls while I was out?”
“None, sir.”
“Anyone stop here?”
“No, sir — that is, none except a delivery man. He brought a package, sir.”
“A package? Where is it?”
“Over there in the corner, sir.”
Cooperdale saw a long package standing by the wall. From its shape, it might have contained a rifle or a shotgun. Cooperdale commented on that fact.
“I didn’t order any firearms from New York,” he said, as he picked up the package. “Wait a minute, Lowder! This can’t be a gun! It’s too light.”
“I noticed that, sir.”
“What in blazes is it?”
Cooperdale tore away the wrapping. He exposed a cardboard tube beneath. Ripping off the end, he produced a long, thick walking stick with a heavy, oval-knobbed end.
“Hm-m-m,” he mused. “I wonder who sent me this? Someone back from Asia — probably an old friend on one of the expeditions.”
“How do you know that, sir?” queried Lowder.
“This cane,” explained Cooperdale, “is a Penang lawyer. An odd name for a walking stick, eh, Lowder? In the city of Penang there is supposed to be one way to settle arguments. That is with the aid of a stick shaped like this. Every man carries his own lawyer. Hence the name: Penang lawyer.”
“Interesting, sir. Very interesting, indeed.”
“Quite light for its size,” added Cooperdale, weighing the cane with one hand. “Most of the Penang lawyers that I have examined were heavier than this. It’s an excellent specimen, however. It will look well in my curio room. Suppose you place it there, Lowder. In one of the racks.
“I am still wondering who sent it, however” — Cooperdale mused thoughtfully as he passed the cane to Lowder — “but I shall probably learn that later. Chances are one of my old acquaintances will call up and take credit for the gift. Hurry, Lowder. I am anxious for dinner.”
LOWDER went to the rear of the hallway. He stopped in front of two doors that were side by side. He opened the one on the left. He turned on a lamp to reveal a small room stocked with an assortment of curios. When Lowder came out of the room, he no longer carried the Penang lawyer.
Sidney Cooperdale remained in the living room while Lowder was preparing dinner. After a while in thoughtful silence, he went to the telephone. The number that he called was Gotham 9-7194. When a voice responded, Cooperdale spoke:
“Mr. Mullrick?… Good. Sidney Cooperdale calling… Your letter… Yes, I have received it. I have destroyed it. I should like to meet you, Mr. Mullrick… In New York? Well, hardly. I detest going to the city, Mr. Mullrick… Yes! Your letter stated that you would be willing to call on me… I should like to see you tonight… Unfortunately, Mr. Mullrick, tomorrow would not be suitable. I intend to take a trip far out on the island… Very well, then… I shall expect you. Kewson is about forty-five minutes from Manhattan.”
A short pause; then, in a decided tone, Sidney Cooperdale gave his final remarks.
“I can tell you much about Mexico,” he asserted. “Facts that may, perhaps, amaze you. Buried secrets of the Aztecs, if such matters interest you… Yes, tonight will be your one opportunity to see me, Mr. Mullrick.”
As Cooperdale hung up the telephone, he noticed Lowder standing in the doorway. The servant was there to announce that dinner was ready. Cooperdale went into the dinette.
White he ate, the bushy-browed man began to show traces of nervousness. He spoke to Lowder in a confiding tone; something which was unusual.
“Lowder,” he said, “I feel in a rather troubled mood. Matters which I cannot explain invariably disturb me.”
“You mean the matter of the cane, sir?”
“Perhaps that started it. There is another matter. A gentleman wrote me that he was anxious to see me. I invited him here tonight. He seemed a trifle reluctant, but finally consented to make the trip out here. From his tone, it is possible that he may not keep the appointment.”
“Odd, sir.”
“Yes. However, I shall have to remain hereabouts. I believe that I shall drop over and see the Westertons after I have finished dinner. If the gentleman arrives, Lowder, point out the curio room to him; then come over and summon me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Finishing dinner, Cooperdale arose and strolled about the hall. Lighting a pipe, he wandered into the curio room. He turned on a small lamp in the corner, that the room might be ready for his visitor.
Later, Cooperdale called to Lowder from his bedroom. The servant entered the door on the right, at the end of the hall. He found Cooperdale fuming because he could not find a clean shirt. Lowder dug the required garment from the bottom of a bureau drawer
Five minutes later, Cooperdale appeared in the hallway and beckoned to Lowder, who was beyond the open door of the kitchen.
“Be ready here in the living room,” ordered Cooperdale. “Be prompt when my guest arrives. Show him where the curio room is located, and hurry over to inform me that he is here. You are becoming sluggish, Lowder. Here, help yourself to one of these cigars. Act the part of master of the house while I am absent.”