“We are starting at once,” added Weston. “Are you ready to go with us?”
“Absolutely,” returned Clyde Burke, warmly. “They’re not expecting me back at the office until you’ve finished with me. I’ll go along, commissioner. Glad to—”
A telephone buzzed its interruption. Weston picked up the instrument and held brief conversation; Cardona and Clyde heard him speak about Dolver’s. The commissioner concluded by giving information concerning the best route to the importer’s home.
“THAT was Mallikan,” declared Weston, as he hung up. “He’s read your story, Burke. He talked a bit worried.”
“On account of Dave Callard?” inquired Clyde.
“Yes,” replied Weston. “He says that since he is the only person in town who knew young Callard, he may be in danger. He doesn’t want trouble from a murderer.”
“How about Markham as his bodyguard?” queried Cardona.
“We can discuss that later,” chuckled Weston. “For the present, I prefer to accomplish two aims at once. Since we are going directly to Dolver’s, I told Mallikan to come there, also.”
“Alone?” asked Cardona.
“Certainly,” replied Weston. “He said he had a suspicion that he might have been watched recently; but I doubt that harm could befall him within the next hour. The roads are well traveled between here and Dolver’s home. Mallikan should undergo no risk driving out.”
The trio started from the office. They reached the commissioner’s big car; a police chauffeur piloted them eastward toward one of the huge bridges leading to Long Island. After they had crossed the East River, Weston made new comment.
“Bringing Mallikan to Dolver’s is a good plan,” announced Weston. “Mallikan knows Dave Callard by sight; Dolver encountered the rogue at the time of Shurrick’s murder. It would be wise for each to hear the other’s description.
“After that, we shall see to the protection of each man. If Callard is becoming desperate, he might be anxious to eliminate Mallikan as well as Dolver. Particularly, Cardona, since Callard has probably read the newspapers also.”
“That’s right, commissioner,” agreed the ace. “He knows that his game went blooey. Our pinning that gun of Ralgood’s on him was something he didn’t figure.”
It was completely dark by this time. As the commissioner’s car swung away from the main highway, its headlamps cut a swath through solid inkiness.
A QUARTER of a mile away from the boulevard, the chauffeur swung through an opening between two front hedges and brought the car to a stop near a gloomy portico. A light flashed on above the porch.
Someone in the house had heard the car arrive.
Weston and Cardona alighted; Clyde followed. The chauffeur pulled up ahead. The lights of the car showed a side hedge across the lawn of Dolver’s grounds; then those lights went dim as the chauffeur pressed the switch. The front door of the house opened.
A stocky servant peered out to the porch; turned about and spoke to someone. Courtney Dolver appeared; the tall importer stepped forward to greet the arrivals.
Handshakes were exchanged. Then the visitors entered, followed by Dolver and his servant. The big door slammed shut.
From a spot near the front hedge came the vague sound of a whispered laugh. The Shadow had arrived here beforehand. This was his focal point — for tonight. He had seen Clyde Burke with Weston and Cardona. With his agent within to report on doings there, The Shadow could remain amid the outer dark.
CHAPTER XI. OUT OF THE DARK
COURTNEY DOLVER had led his visitors to a room at the side of his large mansion. Here they were standing amid scraped walls; for the place was being repapered. In the center of the room stood a large table; about it an odd assortment of chairs. Beyond was a bay window; its two end panes set at angles; its large center sash on a line with the wall.
“Sorry to receive you in such poor fashion, commissioner,” apologized Dolver, in his dignified tone. “The decorators have been very disappointing. Marching in and out all day, so the servants say, and accomplishing very little.”
The room was poorly lighted by two floor lamps. They were near the walls; the illumination was bad beside the center table. Dolver struck a match and lighted the five wicks of a heavy candelabrum that stood upon the table.
The flames flickered as they shone upon the bulky brass stem of the stand. Dolver looked toward the windows; they were open.
“We need light,” remarked the importer, “but we need ventilation also, with the house in this condition. Ah! The breeze has ended. We can leave the windows open.”
He turned about and spied the stocky servant standing by the door to the hall. Dolver gave an order, the man nodded and left. When he returned, he was accompanied by two others, both stout-looking fellows.
“My servants, commissioner,” stated Dolver. “This is Lessing, who came to the door with me. The others are Partridge and Cray. I have other men in my employ; they are at my lodge in the Catskills.”
“These men are reliable?” questioned Weston.
“Everyone,” replied Dolver, emphatically. “They have weapons available, commissioner. Rifles that I intend to take to the lodge.”
“No revolvers?”
“Only one. I have kept that for myself.”
“Revolvers would be preferable, Dolver. Better still, you should have the protection of men from headquarters.”
“I agree, commissioner. We can reserve the rifles until we hunt deer next week.”
“You expect a party at your lodge?”
“A few friends. Lessing usually accompanies me also. He is an excellent marksman. Very well, men” — Dolver spoke briskly to his servants — “you may leave. I shall not need you for the present. But be within call.”
Dolver watched the servants go from the room. He turned about as Weston spoke.
“Mallikan is coming out here tonight,” declared the commissioner. “He called me at my office. He believes that he may be in danger.”
“Mallikan?” questioned Dolver. “Who is Mallikan?”
“The shipping man who saw young Callard here in New York. Prior to the first murders.”
“Not Roger Mallikan? Of the Indo-China Shipping Bureau?”
“Yes. Are you acquainted with him?”
Dolver shook his head.
“I know Mallikan only by name,” he stated. “I used to import a large amount of East Indian brassware. Some of it came by ships controlled by Mallikan’s company.
“Roger Mallikan. Odd, indeed, that he should have known young Callard. I did not see Mallikan’s name mentioned in the newspaper reports.”
“It was merely mentioned,” explained Weston. “That was prior to last night. It is not surprising that you did not observe Mallikan’s name.”
“I shall be glad to meet the fellow,” mused Dolver. Then, pausing, he assumed a serious expression and glanced toward the door to make sure that the servants had gone. “But before Mallikan arrives, commissioner, I must tell you of something strange that I discovered here.”
“Today?” queried Weston.
“This evening,” replied Dolver. “After you had called. I had the servants prepare this room in order to receive you. While they were bringing in the table and the chairs, I noticed that end shade yonder.”
Dolver pointed across the flickering candles. The window shade that he indicated was lowered farther than the others. Its cream-colored surface appeared dull, for it was out of the light.
“When I went to raise the shade,” explained Dolver, “I observed marks upon it. Chinese characters, made with green chalk. The window was open; someone could have entered and written them.
“Come. Let me show them to you. We shall need light.” Dolver looked about, then picked up the candelabrum. “Perhaps they have some significance.”