It must have been a stable once, Cardona decided; probably it had been preserved and converted into a garage. Then Joe’s speculation ended as he strode toward the steps of the mansion. Going up to the front door, Cardona noted a number on the steps. This was Wesdren’s residence.
A chunky, wise-faced servitor admitted Cardona. The detective inquired for Mr. Wesdren; the servant wanted to know who was calling. Joe told him; the man went through the reception room.
Standing in the dimly lighted hall, Cardona sensed that someone else was watching him. He caught a glimpse of another servant passing through a living room on the far side of the hall; but even after that man had gone from view, the detective still felt uneasy.
He looked toward the rear of the hall; there he noted blackness that looked like a lurking spot. Cardona discerned the edge of an alcove; across from it a door. While he still stared, he heard the first servant returning.
“Mr. Wesdren will see you,” informed the man. “Come this way.”
Cardona was conducted to the office. He found Caleb Wesdren alone. The dark-haired man had remembered the detective from the meeting in New York. He shook hands, motioned his visitor to a chair and made query concerning the nature of Cardona’s business.
“I’M playing a long shot, Mr. Wesdren,” informed Cardona, taking a cigar from a box that his host extended to him. “I came down here on a hunch; and it’s turned out to be a real one.”
“Concerning matters that we previously discussed?”
“Yeah. It’s about our friend Jarvis Knight. Somebody is wise to who he is. He’s being watched.”
“Have you informed Del — ” Wesdren caught himself. “Have you seen Mr. Knight since you arrived in town?”
“No. He wasn’t at his hotel. But I got the information I wanted. When Knight was at the Hotel Goliath, I spotted a phony bell hop watching him. The fellow beat it before I could make an arrest; but I learned his name. It was Parker Cady.
“I checked on the fellow. He had a record up in Boston. I’ve got all the data here in this folder. And get this, Mr. Wesdren: Cady was working as a bell hop at the Skyview Plaza, up until this afternoon.”
“He is there no longer?”
“Apparently not. They’re going to nab him if he shows up. But in the meantime—”
Wesdren gestured by way of interruption. Cardona broke off as the executive reached for the telephone.
He watched Wesdren dial a number; then asked:
“You’re calling local headquarters?”
Wesdren shook his head.
“I’m getting Knight,” he replied. “He is with Marquette. Both are over at the Hotel Barlingham, in conference with Senator Releston.”
Cardona settled back in his chair with a pleased grin. He listened while Wesdren was connected with Releston. He heard the executive inform the senator of this new development. Then Cardona’s attention was suddenly directed elsewhere.
Straight across the room was a door. Calculating its position, Cardona decided that it was the door that led into the rear hall. As Joe stared, he observed a barely perceptible closing of the barrier. He watched the brass knob, which glistened conspicuously in the light. He gained the definite impression that the knob was turning.
Wesdren was hanging up the receiver. He spoke to Cardona:
“Senator Releston is coming here immediately. Knight and Marquette will be with him. I had intended to go over there; but—”
Wesdren broke off as Cardona made a motion. The knob had ceased turning. Joe nudged a finger toward the door and whispered “Somebody’s out in the hall. Better see who—”
Wesdren stared at the door; then arose and made stealthy strides in that direction. Cardona watched him reach for the knob; suddenly Wesdren turned it and yanked the door inward.
A MAN was standing there with upraised hand, as though he had been about to knock. Cardona noticed a long-limbed body; a bulky head upon stooped shoulders. He saw a sallow face that had a sudden contortion; eyes that glared suspiciously, then blinked.
“Ah, Jollister!” Wesdren’s tone was mild; it showed quick thought on his part. “I was just coming to find you. I thought you might be busy packing. I did not want to interrupt you with the buzzer.”
“I was about to knock, Mr. Wesdren,” rumbled Jollister. “I was startled when you opened the door so suddenly.”
“Of course. I suppose that my action was abrupt. What is on your mind, Jollister?”
“I expected to leave shortly. I still have a few papers to pack; but I am almost ready. I thought maybe you might want to see me before I went.”
“There is nothing that I can think of, Jollister. If anything occurs to me, I shall call you.”
The two men exchanged nods. Jollister turned about; Wesdren closed the door and came back to the desk. His face was serious as he threw a sharp glance toward the door.
“Was that Craig Jollister?” inquired Cardona. “The vault expert you spoke about in New York?”
“Yes,” replied Wesdren. “I can’t understand his action. What do you think, Cardona? Was the fellow eavesdropping?”
“It looked that way, Mr. Wesdren.”
The executive glanced at his watch then shrugged his shoulder.
“Jollister is leaving for the middle West at ten o’clock,” he remarked. “He was at his apartment this afternoon; it is between here and the depot. Probably he has packed. He has ample time. I do not suppose he will leave here for half an hour.
“I shall speak to him again before he leaves. But I can wait until after Releston and the others have arrived. They should be here in ten minutes. In the meantime, Cardona, prepare your data, so that we may begin a prompt discussion concerning this suspicious character whom you have uncovered.”
WHILE Wesdren and Cardona were ending this brief conversation, events occurred in the hall outside the office. From the blackness of the alcove, a shrouded figure moved slowly into dim light.
Again The Shadow had effected secret entry into Wesdren’s mansion. He had taken his former post, which gave him access to the side door of Wesdren’s office and also enabled him to observe all who arrived or departed.
The Shadow came to a standstill as a door opened on the other side of the hall. Craig Jollister peered forth and looked about with a suspicious stare. Seeing no one, the vault expert turned out the light in his little office and walked into the hall. He was wearing hat and overcoat; under his arm he carried a leather briefcase.
With long stride, Jollister started for the front door. He stopped abruptly as a servant came out of the living room. Jollister spoke:
“I’m going to my apartment, Hamilton,” he said, in his deep tone. “I have spoken to Mr. Wesdren. He knows that I am leaving.”
Hamilton nodded. He watched Jollister stalk out through the front door. Hamilton’s attitude became one of suspicion; then he shrugged his shoulders and walked back in to the living room. Jollister had passed muster with this secret service man who was playing the part of a servant.
Brief minutes passed. The Shadow edged forward to the front hall. His tall, black shape formed a moving silhouette against the wall. It was a creeping thing of blackness, silent in its progress.
The Shadow paused a dozen feet from the front door as another secret service man came down the stairs from the second floor. He waited until this man had gone through the rear hall; then The Shadow resumed his progress.
Silently and stealthily, The Shadow opened the front door. He glided easily into the outer darkness; he closed the door noiselessly behind him. A shade of blackness, The Shadow’s tall shape descended the brownstone steps.
At the bottom, The Shadow wheeled suddenly toward the wall of the mansion, just as a taxicab swung from the nearest corner.