Thomas Jocelyn had become a menace, for Jocelyn, his usefulness ended, had known too much. Jocelyn had been eliminated, serving as a snare of silent death for The Shadow.
Larry Ricordo remained. He, too, was a menace to security, for his usefulness had ended, and he knew far more than Jocelyn had known.
Professor Urlich had brought Ricordo here only because necessity had compelled it. He had sent the gang leader away because that had been the only alternative.
But in his shrewd brain — at the time when Cliff Marsland had noted the scientist’s expression of evil — Folcroft Urlich had considered another course.
Those questions to Larry Ricordo had been well designed. The gang lord’s replies had sponsored Urlich’s new decision. The scientist picked up the telephone upon his table. He smiled as he realized that a call from this blind line would be untraceable.
A few minutes later, a voice sounded through the receiver. Professor Folcroft Urlich smiled. He responded, in a low, steady tone.
“Hello,” he said. “Detective headquarters?… Very well. I wish to speak with Detective Cardona—”
CHAPTER XIX. ZONES OF DEATH
DARKNESS enshrouded the circular edifice that housed Professor Folcroft Urlich and his devices of death. Only a slight glow came from the skylights above the circling outside roof of the second-story laboratory.
None could see into that strange room, whither the scientist had now returned. Even from above, the frosted windows blocked all prying eyes, should any have existed in the sky above. Huge, bulky barriers, those skylights were as firm as a solid roof.
The third floor now was dark; and it showed dimly as the top tier of the circular pyramid. There were windows there: one, in the scientist’s office, was the opening through which Larry Ricordo had sometimes stared at the gloomy mansion which hid the circular structure from the outside world.
A tiny light glimmered amid darkness. It shone within the recesses of the old mansion. Its rays disappeared. Something swished as an invisible figure crossed the space between the mansion and the circular building.
When the tiny, disklike ray again appeared, it was close beside the outer portico of the queer edifice. Its gleam moved blinking through the darkness. The Shadow was circling Professor Urlich’s domain.
After a complete, stealthy tour of inspection, the flashing light stopped near the front of the building. Its rays shone upon the double door that barred entrance. The light ran along the base of the portico, and shone on plates of metal.
Probing beams searched the space beneath the extending roof and flashed upon metal strips, placed beneath the sheltering projection.
A low, soft laugh came from hidden lips. An eerie whisper seemed to float through the spaces of the portico — the iron-posted cloister which The Shadow had not entered. The light went out. The Shadow, completely veiled by darkness, knew that some trap awaited any who might enter that inviting shelter.
What was the menace? That, The Shadow intended to learn.
Guided by amazing intuition, warned by his knowledge of the master plotter’s power, the phantom of the night cautiously avoided the luring trap.
Another investigator would surely have advanced to the wall within the portico; would surely have gone to examine the double door that afforded entrance to the building. The Shadow did not do so.
Instead, the weird visitor withdrew a dozen paces from the building. With keen eyes, The Shadow studied the dim projection of the portico roof.
That outer rim was approximately ten feet above the ground; perhaps a trifle less. The Shadow’s perceiving gaze picked a spot midway between two iron posts.
A rapid stride; a series of long, swift steps: The Shadow sprang upward with a mighty leap. His powerful hands caught the projecting edge of the portico roof. The black cloak swished as The Shadow’s form swung back and forth like a pendulum.
Had the grasp failed, The Shadow would have landed upon the metal flooring of the portico. Instead, he dangled from a spot that was free from the signal-equipped zone.
The Shadow’s form moved upward as the powerful hands retained their hold. Gradually, The Shadow gained the roof above the portico.
A LOW, circular wall lay ahead — a rising circle that indicated the top of the first story. The Shadow raised himself above that tier, and continued to a higher surface — the outer wall of the laboratory floor.
The tall shape worked its way up this obstacle. The fingers within the black gloves clutched the top. A few moments later, the form of The Shadow was silhouetted by the glow that came through the skylights.
The master of darkness was poised upon the edge of the second roof.
To reach the third floor — its walls looming with darkened windows, The Shadow must cross the wide space that held the skylights. There were heavy braces in between; yet they were hardly broad enough to allow the passage of a form without a betraying patch of darkness.
This offered small worry to so weird a prowler as The Shadow; nevertheless, it caused the black-garbed visitor to pause in search of an alternative.
A low laugh was scarcely audible. The Shadow had found a plan. With catlike stride, balanced upon the very edge of the circular roof, The Shadow began to travel around the building.
His objective was a break in that series of skylights. One blocked sheet of glass was all that he needed. It was at the rear of the building that The Shadow found the spot he wanted. There, a metal-sheeted space appeared in place of a skylight.
The Shadow paused. There was no haste in his action. He had come here directly from the episode at Thomas Jocelyn’s. It had required but short investigation to learn that a Professor Folcroft Urlich lived at this spot on Long Island. The uncommonness of the name had enabled The Shadow to choose the logical destination.
In one brief call to Burbank, The Shadow had gained no knowledge of Cliff Marsland’s disappearance.
In his report, Cliff had assured Burbank that all was well. He had been ordered off duty. Hence The Shadow had yet to learn that two of his henchmen lay prisoners within these walls.
Clyde Burke, instead of watching and informing Burbank of Cliff Marsland’s capture, had also bungled.
His precipitous attack had been an impulse.
Soon, Burbank would know that ill had befallen Clyde Burke, because of the agent’s failure to report.
But when would Burbank again gain communication with The Shadow?
It seemed to matter nothing at this moment; for The Shadow was at the den of the monster who had captured his men. Straight ahead lay a path to those third-story windows; from there, the course lay down the spiral into the laboratory. The Shadow was a rescuer at hand!
THEN, a chance discovery by The Shadow changed all course of action. The metal-sheathed frame which broke the row of skylights trembled slightly beneath the pressure of The Shadow’s touch. The blackclad form moved slowly backward. Firm hands worked with the barrier. They found it loose.
A blocking slab with weakened fastenings. This could be turned to good use by The Shadow! It formed a new and unexpected mode of entry into the second story of the circular building. Handling the sheathed portion of roof as though it were a trapdoor, The Shadow slowly pried it upward.
Powerful strength, applied with superb skill, caused the barrier to yield noiselessly. An opening gained, The Shadow lay along the edge of the roof and peered into the space beneath.
The tiny rays of the flashlight broke the darkness. The Shadow was gazing down at the spiral staircase within the hollow cylinder — the route that led from the laboratory to the floor below.