“It was twelve-fifty when we arrived at the Legrand,” stated Joe. “It’s one-fifty now. Exactly one hour. In that time, Ramorez not only made his getaway; but he came back here. Somebody was laying for him; and got him, like they did Jurrice.
“Yet who could have pulled it? We figure The Python; but Ramorez is the one we took for The Python. Remember that hiss of his, Burke? And a crew coming in when they heard it? I can’t figure it as it stands now. Ramorez coming back here—”
“You know this man?” The police surgeon interrupted with his query. He had risen from beside the body. “Tell me then, inspector, when did you last see him?”
“Just an hour ago,” replied Cardona. “I had him under arrest, down at the Legrand Hotel.”
“Very interesting, inspector.” The surgeon was studying his watch. “Let me see — it’s nearly two o’clock. That makes seven hours since Craig Jurrice was strangled. And one hour—”
“One hour ago, I saw this man, Ramorez—”
“Let me finish my statement, inspector. One hour after Jurrice was strangled, this man — whom you say is Ramorez — was murdered in a similar fashion.”
Cardona stared; then spoke.
“But we saw this dead man, doctor! Both Burke and myself. Shortly before one o’clock—”
“Then you saw a dead man walking,” retorted the police surgeon dryly.
“This man has been dead for six hours at least.” He pointed, wagging his finger toward the body of Carl Ramorez. “He was murdered before eight o’clock. Within one hour after the death of Craig Jurrice!”
The startling truth began to dawn on Joe Cardona. The intruder at the Legrand Hotel must have been The Python; that much was certain. But he had not been Carl Ramorez, much though he had resembled the dead Cuban. The Python had murdered Ramorez hours ago and had taken the dead man’s place.
“The Python,” mused Cardona, solemnly. “A double murderer — a master of disguise — the man in back of the fire and bloody mutiny on the Steamship Tropical—”
“A story, Joe?” queried Clyde, eagerly.
“Yes,” nodded Cardona. “Let it ride, Burke. Go after it strong. We’ll keep this crook on the run — this big-shot who calls himself The Python.”
LATER, reports came to The Shadow, in his sanctum. Harry and Cliff had left New Jersey, accompanied by Louis Revoort; and the treasure had gone with them. That point was settled; what now concerned The Shadow was the report from Clyde Burke.
Details regarding the deaths of Craig Jurrice and Carl Ramorez. To The Shadow, these told more than Joe Cardona had guessed. The strange behavior of Jurrice was explained. So was the trap which The Python had set at the old Cambia Hotel.
Beneath the glow of a shaded lamp, The Shadow inscribed three names:
Louis Revoort
Craig Jurrice
Carl Ramorez
His hand drew a line through the topmost name. Revoort — so The Python thought — had been eliminated, aboard the Tropical. That belief had caused The Python to concentrate upon Jurrice. He had watched Jurrice; when the fellow became too conspicuous at the steamship company’s office, The Python had decided that it might be well to deal with him.
Yet the treasure had been missing; and Jurrice was the only link. The Python must have learned that Jurrice was going back to the Bragelonne; thus informed, the crook had gone in there ahead of him. How? The Shadow’s whispered laugh told the answer.
The Python had entered the Bragelonne made up as Jurrice. It was he who had obtained the extra key. He had been lurking in Jurrice’s bedroom when the man entered the suite. The Python had hoped for a break, probably because one of his watchers had spotted Ramorez at the steamship office. The break had come — a call to Jurrice from Ramorez.
The Python must have learned Ramorez’s true address, the Balboa Apartments. He must have heard Jurrice say that he would go there. That would have been sufficient cause for The Python to strangle Jurrice. It was The Python — not the real Jurrice — whom Clyde Burke had met in the hotel corridor.
As Jurrice, The Python had slipped Clyde Burke and had visited Ramorez. He had learned the Cuban’s plans for communication with Revoort. He had strangled Ramorez; then, still using his ability as a make-up artist, he had disguised himself as the dead Cuban. Believing Revoort dead, The Python had guessed that the only person capable of taking the treasure hunter’s place would be The Shadow.
The pill-boxed room at the Cambia Hotel must long have been a ready trap; one that The Python had prepared for the reception of an unsuspecting foe. Having learned that Revoort did not know Ramorez’s actual address, The Python — as Ramorez — had made the Cambia his new abode. He had kept calling the Legrand, in case The Shadow came there.
THE SHADOW, in this reconstruction, had crossed out the names of Jurrice and Ramorez with heavier lines than he had used on Revoort’s name. The Python’s past actions were plain to The Shadow. The future had become The Shadow’s new concern. Slowly, his long, pointed finger tapped the blotted name of Craig Jurrice.
Jurrice was the man who had dickered, in hope of selling the regained treasure. The law would unearth facts concerning Jurrice. Through such discoveries, The Python could be traced. The Python, himself, must know that fact; having played for wealth and lost it, to The Shadow, The Python would also know that his only present game should be a cover-up of his activities.
The Shadow had won a victory; but his foe, The Python, had managed to retreat. The Shadow’s present strategy must be to harry his balked foe; to force The Python to the limit. Action would be necessary on The Python’s part, even when seeking cover, if the issue could be forcibly pressed by The Shadow.
There was a way to do it. The law could be stirred, through a prompt newspaper campaign. By rousing the press, The Shadow could bring facts to light concerning Craig Jurrice. The more the law gained, the worse would be The Python’s situation. The supercrook, driven to hiding, would have to order his remaining henchmen to cover of their own.
The Shadow had already planned a way to intercept new messages between The Python and his Coilmasters. Prepared for strike, unseen and unsuspected, The Shadow needed only to deliver the preliminary blow; that campaign of notoriety that would bring The Python into the limelight.
CHAPTER XXI
THE DOUBLE STROKE
IT was late the next afternoon. Lester Bornick was seated in his private office, his desk stacked with newspapers. Opposite the lawyer was Danton Califax. The wealthy client had just arrived; but he was already speaking volubly.
“You have read the newspapers, Bornick!” Califax was exclaiming. “Look at those headlines! The Python! Master mind uncovered by the law! Murderer of Craig Jurrice!
“Why hasn’t such talk stirred you? I have called you five times during the day; all you have said is ‘Wait’ — and I have waited. All the while, I have realized that I am shirking a duty — at your order.
“Can’t you see that Jurrice is the key to this man they call The Python? That the law should be informed of all we know about him? You, yourself, have told me that my dealings with Jurrice did not reach a state of conspiracy; yet you say to wait—”
“Calm yourself, Califax,” remarked Bornick. “So long as you act upon my advice, you will be doing well. I have said to wait until the proper time—”
“And the proper time is now.”
“Or very soon. What concerns me is the finding of the proper person.”
“The proper person?”
“Yes. The right one to hear your story.”
“And who is he?”