Commissioner Barth was eyeing him with a perplexed gaze. He could not understand how Crofton, supposedly invisible, had come back to view.
Crofton saw the commissioner’s puzzlement. He understood. Weakly, he delivered a grin. Then, with a sigh of relief, he shook his head.
“I’ll tell you the whole story,” he agreed. “Straight from the beginning. That is, all I know of it. I was double-crossed; that’s all. I’ve been in a crooked game, commissioner, but murder wasn’t my part.”
“Proceed,” ordered Barth.
“The whole thing started like a fake,” declared Crofton. “It looked like a good game, though. I’d been a pal of Rouser Tukin’s, but I wasn’t in with his mob. That’s something no one can ever hang on me. But I was pretty well worried when Rouser and his outfit ran into that mess. The time when Rouser was killed by the police.
“I went to see a fellow named Trip Burgan. Used to be a big-shot gambler. Trip seemed like a good guy. Loaned me some dough and advised me just to lay low. Said this Rouser business looked bad, but if I watched myself, I could keep out of trouble.
“I believed him. I know it was a stall, now, but I didn’t think that then. Trip knew how he could use me. That was all. First thing I knew, he sent for me. Said he had a chance for me to keep out of sight and make some easy dough. Both at once.”
Crofton paused to look about. Expectant eyes were watching him. His listeners seemed to be impressed with his story. Crofton leaned back in his chair and resumed.
“It looked like a good racket,” he declared. “Working for Professor Melrose Lessep. Here was the story: Lessep had a cock-eyed invention that wouldn’t work. Trip had found out about it somehow. He gave Lessep some dough and said that they could fake it and sell more stock in the idea.
“I was to work with Lessep. Trip had the idea; Lessep and I doped out the rest of it. A fake clear through. The trick lay partly in the cabinet and partly in that second motor. Then there was special wiring in the laboratory walls.”
A thin smile had appeared upon the lips of Lamont Cranston. His keen eyes showed that he had learned all that Crofton was about to say.
“When the prof frosted up the walls,” explained Crofton, “I revolved the back panel of the cabinet. I stepped through, to the back of the platform. That was a cinch. Nobody could see through the panels while I was doing it. They were all misty.
“When he used the second motor, the prof shoved in cords that had long, pointed plugs. One made a special contact with the cabinet; the other made a special contact in a dummy floor plug.
“The prof pressed one button on the motor. That made the door of the cabinet open, like I was responsible. Then he did a lot of hokum— all the while I was standing on the back ledge. Finally he shouted out to watch the door.
“That’s when he pressed another gimmick. A special wire through the wall and into the door. It made the bolt move back automatically. Another push. The door opened. Then the prof touched the right button. It worked the light switch. Another pull made the front door shut.”
“Amazing!” exclaimed Barth.
“WAIT a minute,” objected Warlock. “You were still in back of the cabinet, Crofton.”
“I’m coming to that,” declared the prisoner. “In the dark, the prof pushed another one of his trick switches. It operated the bolt on the door into the back hall. That’s how I made my get-away. When I closed the door, the prof swung the switch the other way. It shot the bolt again.
“Take me down to the lab. I’ll prove all I’ve said. I worked plenty hard figuring out some of that trick stuff. The prof was stumped with a lot of it. But it worked fine the night we pulled it. The toughest part was finding enough time for the get-away.”
“How did the professor know when you had made your escape?” questioned Barth.
“He could hear the door close,” replied Crofton. “He was listening for it.”
A pause. Barth was stroking his bald head, utterly confounded by Crofton’s story. It sounded true, particularly the offer to make tests in Lessep’s abandoned laboratory.
“Now comes the double cross,” asserted Crofton, suddenly. “Trip Burgan had a hideout fixed for me over on Ninth Avenue. The idea was I’d have to keep out of sight or people might find out about the fake.
“Well, I hopped over there. A swell place — apartment with three rooms — guys to bring me everything I wanted. Only thing was, I couldn’t let them see me. I was supposed to be invisible. Trip swore I’d have to play the game all the way.
“I look at the papers. They were brought up to my room. It kind of socked me when I found I was called the Unseen Killer. I sent a note to Trip. He sent back word to lay low. Somebody had squealed that I knew Rouser Tukin.
“Then I got a paper that told about Lessep being killed. Trip sent a note saying that he thought the prof had committed suicide. It looked worse than ever for me, and I knew murder was the game when I saw papers telling about Hildon and Amboy.
“But I couldn’t make a move. Those gorillas — Trip had a crew of them under the place I was living — they would have bumped me if I tried to make a get-away. They were to rub out any guy that they found in the place. They’d never seen me. Since I was supposed to be invisible, they’d have plugged me for an intruder.”
Crofton’s voice showed strain. Thoughts of his recent ordeal were troubling him. It was with an effort that the man managed to conclude his story.
“To-night, Trip came to the joint,” he said. “He and Chuck Galla. To take me away. I had to go. I was suspicious. I figured they were on the home stretch of their game and that they were going to rub me out, not needing me as a goat any longer.
“The dragnet was working. And they were scared of The Shadow. Well, just as we were going out, The Shadow showed up. Battled with Trip and Chuck. They had a car outside, with gorillas in it. I made for the car, figuring I’d rather bluff with the gorillas, even though they might be set to take me for a ride.
“Some fellows crowned those gorillas. Made off with the car, with me in it, two of them pinning me on the floor. One of them handed me a haymaker. I went out. When I woke up I was in that box and The Shadow was looking in on me.”
“You’re sure it was The Shadow?” challenged Barth.
“You bet it was,” returned Crofton, in a positive tone. “Black cloak — slouch hat — all I could see was eyes. He talked to me and I listened. He knew everything, that guy. Said he was sending me to Joe Cardona. Told me if I talked, I’d come out all right. He’d do the rest in a pinch. Well, here I am.”
Finished with his amazing tale, Miles Crofton closed his eyes and settled back wearily upon the cushions of the chair.
CHAPTER XXI. NEW DEDUCTIONS
A BUZZ of comments broke loose when Crofton’s story was completed.
Crofton did not open his eyes, even though some remarks were criticisms of his statement. He was tired.
He was willing to rely upon The Shadow to substantiate the story that he had given.
“A hoax!” exclaimed Findlay Warlock. “Professor Lessep was no swindler! This wild tale is an insult to his memory!”
“I doubted the professor,” put in Marryat Darring, “but not my own senses. I struggled with the Unseen Killer myself. If Crofton was not my assailant, who was?”
“Murder has been done,” announced Barth. “Only an invisible criminal could have accomplished those killings.”
Joe Cardona made no comment. He was puzzled. Barth looked at him; the detective merely shook his head. The commissioner reiterated his previous statement.
“Only an Unseen Killer could have done these crimes. Lessep — Hildon — Amboy — Norgan—”