The weird form resumed its brief ascent. The Shadow edged sidewise past the corner of the alcove. He gained the roof above a small inset porch at the side of the house. Prone upon the slanting surface, he reached the window.
The Shadow was looking into Hildon’s second-floor room. A hall light’s rays filtered past the broken door. The dull illumination showed the death chamber. Furnishings were hazily outlined before The Shadow’s gaze.
The Shadow, guised as Lamont Cranston, had viewed that room before. He had walked about within its walls with Police Commissioner Wainwright Barth. Together, they had gone over the ground covered by Detective Joe Cardona.
But now The Shadow was viewing the room from a new angle. He was outside, looking in, perched comfortably in a perfect hiding place beneath. The extended house wall hid him from the street in front. The porch roof kept him concealed from eyes below.
Darkness prevented a prying view from the alleyway at the back of the house. The next building — its windows boarded — could not have been an observation post. This little roof was the strategic spot from which to enter or to look into Nathaniel Hildon’s bedroom. Any prowler could have chosen it as a vantage point.
Yet what had it to do with the murder of Nathaniel Hildon? Nothing, so far as Cardona and Barth had seen. A window, panes unbroken, fastenings intact within, could not have aided a visible killer to make his escape. As for the Unseen Killer — to him the window was unnecessary.
A square window, measuring four feet in either direction. A stout vertical post from bottom to top.
Gloved hands issued from the darkness; one pressed against each pane, while The Shadow’s head, tilting a trifle to the right, took a position from which keen eyes could study all that lay within the room.
Hands dropped from the solid set panes. Edging backward, The Shadow produced his tiny flashlight.
Blinking guardedly, the beam ran up around the window, down the center division, then to the porch itself. There, The Shadow’s left hand moved idly. Fingers traced streaks in the grime of the roof. They crumpled a bit of dried, claylike substance. The light went out.
A patrolman passed by the side of the house. His footfalls clicked through the alleyway.
The Shadow’s light blinked intermittently, close to the roof. Then it went out finally. The black-cloaked form edged from the roof and descended easily by the ladderlike bricks that lined the wall.
An officer on the front street failed to see the gliding form that issued from the alleyway. The Shadow crossed to the square. He merged with the blackness of the trees. His course was untraceable as he moved away from Culberly Court. It was not until he had gained a spot two blocks away that he gave another manifestation of his presence.
Then, gliding silently past the front of unpretentious houses, The Shadow laughed. A ghostly chuckle in the darkness; a touch of suppressed mirth that was grim. Turning to a sinister whisper, the laugh throbbed and faded.
Though his agents in the underworld still pursued a hopeless quest for missing men, The Shadow, himself, was making progress. He had learned facts about the Unseen Killer. He could wait until the morrow.
For Commissioner Barth was determined to bait the Unseen Killer. That course was to The Shadow’s liking. Wealth was the criminal’s aim. To obtain it, he would have to act.
Action by the Unseen Killer would bring him within The Shadow’s range.
CHAPTER XI. THE BLACK BOX
THE next morning, both Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan received new threats from the Unseen Killer. The letters came in the first mail. They were typewritten as before. They delivered the same ultimatum. A statement to the afternoon newspapers of death to one of the pair within twenty-four hours.
They communicated at once with Commissioner Barth. He ordered the statements to the newspapers.
Already, headlines were telling of Nathaniel Hildon’s death. The statements from Amboy and Norgan were boxed on front pages. They brought quick results.
At five o’clock that afternoon, Findlay Warlock, president of the fading Centralized Power Corporation, was surprised when he opened a letter that came in the late mail. It had been posted only a few hours previously shortly after the newspapers had carried their flash regarding the new threats received by Amboy and Norgan.
The note to Warlock was typewritten. It read as follows:
A REQUEST:
Two men, Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan, are anxious to deliver funds into my possession. This can be facilitated if they put the moneys in a place of easy access.
There is a wall safe in your study. Would you cooperate by letting them put their funds in that strong box?
Before 8:30 to-night. Lock the safe, but put the combination in an envelope and seal the flap of the envelope to the front of the safe. Let the envelope remain open.
At 8:30, open the doors to your study. All must leave the room, either going downstairs or remaining in the hallways. At 9:00 close the doors of the study.
Reopen them at 9:15. Do not reenter the room until 9:30. At all times, the doorways must be unblocked.
Also doors to the house and ground floor windows must be left open.
Witnesses, police, interested parties all are welcome, provided only that the conditions are exactly fulfilled. I promise immunity to all who play fair. Treachery will mean DEATH.
THE UNSEEN KILLER.
Cluett was present when Findlay Warlock received this note. Warlock had just come in from the office; Cluett was startled by the trembling that came over his master. He thought that Warlock had experienced a stroke.
Then Warlock recovered. He made a telephone call to the Melkin Hotel, was connected with Marryat Darring, to whom he blurted out the news. At Darring’s advice, he then made a call to the police commissioner.
Barth communicated with Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan. Prompt arrangements were made. More wires buzzed. At eight o’clock all was completed. A group of men were assembled in Findlay Warlock’s study.
POLICE COMMISSIONER BARTH had summoned Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan. The two had arrived after a visit to an uptown bank, where they had gone to the safe deposit vaults. They had been accompanied by half a dozen detectives.
Marryat Darring was present, because of Warlock’s call. Lamont Cranston was also there, thanks to the police commissioner. Barth wanted reliable witnesses who had seen the actions of the Unseen Killer on that night at Lessep’s.
Joe Cardona and three detectives were in the study; besides these men, there were a dozen other dicks downstairs, including the six who had acted as guards for Amboy and Norgan.
“To-night,” declared the commissioner, “we intend to deal with Miles Crofton, alias the Unseen Killer. He has imposed certain conditions that give us definite indications. They prove that our analysis of his power is correct. The man is devisualized. He can not be seen.
“I consider it good policy to meet his conditions. Otherwise, he may resort to new murder. At the same time, I am following this course purely as matter of investigation. I have not requested Amboy and Norgan to deliver up their funds.
“That is a matter that concerns themselves. I merely asked them if they were willing to cooperate; if they were desirous of turning over wealth to the Unseen Killer because of his threat. They answered that they were.”
Barth turned inquiringly as he paused. He wanted corroboration from the men themselves. Amboy and Norgan were seated by a table upon which lay a large, black metal box.
“The funds are in this box,” declared Amboy, solemnly, pointing to the container. “All the funds that the Unseen Killer wants.”
“Every penny,” added Norgan. “We are taking this measure to rid ourselves of the menace.”