There was no proof that Harry’s suspect had come to this room; yet the agent’s description of the fellow proved that he had been in a hurry. The possibility that the mustached man had come and gone caused The Shadow to make a prompt change in plan.
Already he had lingered a full dozen minutes. There was no use for further stay. Stepping away from Treblaw’s body, The Shadow moved to the door and started to open it. He paused suddenly; instead of turning the knob, he twisted the lock below it. He waited intently.
The knob clicked. Someone was trying the door from the opposite side. Voices in the hall; then pounding. Calls and footfalls. More men were arriving.
While these noises sounded, The Shadow was whipping open the briefcase that he carried. From it, he was drawing a mass of blackened cloth, along with a slouch hat.
Someone had suspected trouble in Room 2536. An alarm had been given. Hotel detectives and police were about to enter the death room.
And The Shadow, arrived too late to prevent fiendish murder, was trapped upon the scene of crime!
CHAPTER VI
THE LONE TRAIL
A KEY turned in the lock. The door of Room 2536 swung open. A big shouldered man stared into the dully-lighted room. Behind him were two others, one in uniform.
“Look!” The gasp came from the first man, a house dick. “There — near the window!”
The fellow was pointing to Treblaw’s body. As his companions pressed him, he advanced unsteadily and reached the spot where the dead man lay. The second dick and the policeman peered over his shoulder.
“Dead!” ejaculated the first dick. “Say — that call we got wasn’t phony. This man’s been murdered—”
He paused suddenly. A sharp interruption had come from the second house detective. Moving back from the body, this fellow had chanced to glance toward the door. There he had seen a moving shape in black.
The Shadow, shrouded in a corner of the room, had started a stealthy progress toward the door, hoping to depart while the trio remained astounded at sight of Treblaw’s body. The second dick, turning squeamishly, had spied the cloaked form as it neared the door.
“Get him!” exclaimed the second dick, to the officer beside him. “Get him!”
Suiting action to his own words, the dick sprang toward the moving shape. The Shadow wheeled. Coming in to meet his opponent, he caught the dick’s body in a flying grip that hoisted the fellow halfway to the ceiling.
The policeman was spinning forward. Anticipating the move, The Shadow hurled the struggling detective squarely against the bluecoat. Bowled over by the human missile, the cop went sprawling on the floor, with the dick rolling upon him.
The Shadow’s surge did not stop. Coming forward with his swing, he encountered the first dick rising from beside Treblaw’s body. A gloved fist swept through the gloom. It clipped the dick’s chin and dropped the man to the floor.
Clearing Treblaw’s body, The Shadow reached the window. His tall form swung through the opening, then disappeared with a surprising suddenness. He was gone before any one of the three men could spot the direction of his flight.
The policeman was coming to his feet. Looking about, he saw the two dicks rising — one rubbing his chin; the other holding his head in dazed fashion. Seeing no sign of the assailant, the officer dashed toward the door. He reached the corridor and headed toward the elevators. No one in sight.
Puzzled, yet realizing necessity for action, the policeman drew a whistle and blew a shrill blast that sounded throughout the entire floor.
An elevator opened. A puzzled operator looked out. The policeman bawled orders. The operator nodded, closed the door and dropped toward the ground floor to spread the alarm.
The officer headed back to the room. He found one detective with a drawn gun; the other was calling the desk.
THE tall, stepped walls of the Hotel Goliath were ornamented terraces that rose to a height of thirty stories. The upper steps of the mammoth building were set in too far to be viewed from the street below.
Hence no one from beneath caught sight of the beetle-like figure that was following a precarious upward course. A black blotch against the dulled front of the great building, The Shadow was performing the act of a human fly.
On occasions, The Shadow scaled difficult walls with the aid of suction disks that gave him a firm grip against the surface. He was performing his present ascent without the suction devices. He did not need them, thanks to the cornices and facings that were ready to hand. In fact, his climb lessened in difficulty as he neared the summit of the building.
The Shadow’s course brought him to the topmost parapet — a high wall that surrounded the central portion of the roof. Mounting this, The Shadow encountered a low, spiked fence. Beyond it were clusters of cedar trees, set at intervals.
Scaling the fence, The Shadow dropped between the parapet and a clump of cedars. There he divested himself of cloak and hat. He unrolled his flexible briefcase and inserted the black garments. He left the briefcase by the wall and sauntered from the cedars.
The roof formed a promenade; half a dozen persons were standing by open portions, looking out over the city. The air was chilly at this height; hence the crowd was small. No one observed the tall personage who stepped in from a spot beside the wall. Unchallenged, The Shadow strolled toward a doorway that led inside.
This was an enclosed solarium that served as the hotel library. A dozen persons were about; the few who noted The Shadow’s entrance took him to be another guest. As he seated himself beside a table, The Shadow noticed that the stairway door bore a huge lock.
A smile appeared upon the thin lips of the mask-like face. No search for a fugitive would be made up here. The Shadow looked toward a table in the corner where a librarian was seated. A telephone bell was ringing. The librarian answered it.
Finished with his call, the librarian stepped from his table. A bespectacled individual, he hemmed and hawed to attract attention. Then, as people looked toward him, he made an announcement.
“There has been some trouble downstairs,” explained the librarian. “The police are looking for a fugitive. He could not have come up here. But the elevators are being watched. If anyone wishes to go downstairs, I shall summon a special elevator to take them to the lobby.”
A few persons expressed the desire to leave. The librarian put in a prompt call. An elevator arrived, and descended with half a dozen passengers, all checked by a policeman who came with the elevator.
The Shadow remained, reading a magazine that he had taken from the table.
A quiet hour passed. At length the librarian made a new announcement. The search had been given up; elevators could be used as desired. The Shadow waited a while longer, then strolled out on the roof to find it totally deserted. Reclaiming his briefcase, he returned to the solarium and took an elevator to the lobby.
LATER, The Shadow reached his sanctum. His presence was made manifest by the sudden appearance of the bluish light in the corner of the room.
The Shadow reached for the earphones. He knew that reports should be ready; Burbank’s voice responded to The Shadow’s call.
“Report,” came The Shadow’s order.
“Report from Burke,” informed Burbank. “He has just left the Hotel Goliath. Interviewed Detective Joe Cardona regarding the murder of Stanton Treblaw.”
“Proceed.”
Burbank’s voice gave details that fitted The Shadow’s own examination of Treblaw’s room. The type of murder; the fact that the room was rifled — these had been observed by inspecting officers. The police theory was chance robbery.
“The surgeon’s statement,” declared Burbank, “sets the time of death at a few minutes after nine o’clock. At quarter past nine, someone put in a call to Treblaw’s room. It was not answered. At quarter of ten, a call came to the hotel desk, from outside, advising an investigation of Room 2536.