“You’re sure he is in?” questioned Norgan, of Katy.
“Sure of it, sir,” blurted the woman. “It was upstairs I was, but I would have heard had he gone out.”
“Did you hear the telephone bell ring?”
“No, sir. Not this evening.”
“He doesn’t answer,” said Amboy. He tried the doorknob. “It’s locked— seems to be bolted.”
“We’ll call the police,” returned Norgan, grimly.
“The telephone is in Hildon’s room,” reminded Amboy.
“Who lives next door?” questioned Norgan, turning to Katy.
“Mr. Willings, sir,” replied the cook. “He would let you use the telephone.”
“Let us go there,” decided Norgan. “Jedrey, you stay here with Mr. Amboy.”
WHEN the police car reached Hildon’s, it was only a few seconds ahead of another automobile that had come from headquarters. Two officers of the radio patrol had been ordered to Number 58, Culberly Court; and Joe Cardona had started at the time the order was given.
The ace detective, at present an acting inspector, joined the uniformed men on the steps. Trouble at a spot like Culberly Court was sufficient to bring Joe on the job. Cardona was the first to enter the open door.
He found Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan awaiting him. Norgan explained about the telephone calls while they were ascending the stairs. Joe nodded. At the top, he eyed Jedrey; then learned that the man was Norgan’s chauffeur. Katy was also present; the detective nodded when told that she was the Hildon cook.
Cardona eyed the door. He knocked. He tried the knob. He noted the light that shone from beneath.
Then he beckoned to the two officers from the radio car. They launched themselves against the door.
The barrier cracked.
Joe motioned the officers back. He rammed his shoulder against the door for the final urge. The hinges had broken; Joe entered as the door swung loose at that side. The others peered through the opening.
What Cardona saw, they saw.
In the center of a large bedroom lay Nathaniel Hildon. He looked tall and frail, sprawled like a toppled scarecrow. His face showed him to be a man of less than forty — slightly younger than either Amboy or Norgan — yet less robust than either of his associates.
Hildon’s gaping face was staring upward. His eyes were bulged in death. There was no question as to the manner in which he had died. Purplish marks about his throat showed that the victim had been strangled by some powerful killer.
Yanking a revolver from his pocket, Joe looked warily about the room. The patrolmen, shoulders at the door had guns in readiness. Dropping to one knee, Cardona peered beneath the bed. The space there was vacant.
There was a closet in the corner. The door stood ajar. Cardona moved in that direction and peered in to find nothing but hanging clothes. He shook the garments. Satisfied that the closet was empty, he swung back toward the door through which he had entered.
The reason why the door had given at the hinges was because of the powerful bolt that barred it. The bolt was still shot. It proved that no one could have used the door as an exit. That meant a window.
There were two of these; one at the side of the room, the other at the rear.
Cardona went to the side window. There the detective found something that perplexed him. The window was of the type that swung open on hinges. Those hinges were on the inside. Furthermore, the fastening consisted of a heavy bar that fitted over a bolt, with a wing-nut to hold it there.
The bar was in place. The bolt was topped by the nut, screwed tightly in place. A fastening at the side of the window was also firm. The window panes were large but unbroken. This window could not have been the exit. That left the one at the rear.
JOE could see a light from a rear alleyway, shining through the solid panes of the rear window. That was why he had picked the side window first; because he could not picture a killer foolish enough to choose the window where the light shone. But as he moved to the rear window, Joe was positive that it must have formed the avenue of escape. He stopped, more astonished than before.
The rear window was fastened like the side one. Catch at the side; bar on the sill; nut tight on bolt. As with the first window, no one could possibly have closed and fastened this one on the outside.
The cops at the door could see the blank look on Cardona’s face when the sleuth turned back into the room. Rubbing his chin, Joe looked for some new hiding place. He gripped his gun more firmly. But this quest, too, was useless. There was not a single place — other than beneath the bed or in the closet — where any one could have hidden.
Then Cardona spied the telephone. He saw why calls had not been answered. Some one had wadded tissue paper about the bell, just beneath a small desk in the corner. Carefully, Cardona pulled away the wadding. He laid the paper on the desk.
Slowly, a grim look came over Cardona’s features. Standing just within the door, the detective was viewed by Amboy and Norgan, who were peering past the watching cops. The dead man’s friends saw Cardona pick up the telephone. Joe made a call and they listened tensely as they heard his words.
“Hello… Markham… Yes, Cardona… Up at 58, Culberly Court. Man murdered here. Nathaniel Hildon… Yes… Listen, Markham. Put in a call to the commissioner… Yes… You’ll probably get him at the Cobalt Club…
“Yes… Certainly. He’ll want to come down here… Tell him it’s murder. And tell him it’s more than that… More than murder… Another job by the guy we’re after… Miles Crofton… The Unseen Killer…”
Gasps from Amboy and Morgan. The two dropped back from the door. The patrolmen tightened fists on their guns. Joe Cardona’s words had produced an electrical effect.
Already, Manhattan had rung with news of the Unseen Killer. Here was murder — new crime that Joe Cardona could attribute only to the prowess of that same invisible fiend!
CHAPTER X. THE LAW AND THE SHADOW
ONE hour later. Commissioner Wainwright Barth was standing in the downstairs parlor of Nathaniel Hildon’s quaint home. Present was his friend Lamont Cranston, who had come with him from the Cobalt Club. Also present were Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan. In addition, Detective Joe Cardona.
The sleuth was glum. He had occasion to be, for Barth was reprimanding him, despite the presence of these witnesses. The commissioner had completed a survey of the dead man’s bedroom. He had agreed that the Unseen Killer was again responsible for murder. That was why Barth was finding fault with Cardona.
“You should have profited by experience,” chided the commissioner. “You were there, in the room. You had patrolmen at the door. Then you ordered them to conduct every one else downstairs. You were temporarily alone; worse than that, you left the door unguarded.
“Remember, Cardona, we are dealing with a physical being. Miles Crofton may be devisualized; but he is not dematerialized. If he slew Nathaniel Hildon — as seems obvious — he must have remained within that room.
“Your one chance was to hold him. To cleverly keep the doorway bolted. Instead, you opened the path. Like you unwittingly did at Lessep’s. Our quarry has eluded us. Stupidity, Cardona. Stupidity.”
“I admit it,” growled Joe. “When I saw the room empty, I took it for granted the guy was gone. The way he worked before — well, it was like he became air. It seemed the same here. It kind of knocked me, commissioner, when I saw those bolted windows.”
“Well, the mistake has been made,” acknowledged Barth. “The evidence, every bit of it, points to the Unseen Killer. Nathaniel Hildon has lived in this house for three years. We have absolute testimony from these two gentlemen” — he indicated Amboy and Norgan — “that nothing unusual has occurred about this place. The cook says the same; also the butler, whom you called in from Brooklyn.