“A being in black — who appeared and vanished. He laughed — and it was his hand that felled this villain who was in my house.”
Lamont Cranston stepped forward as Jarvis Raleigh paused. Raleigh seemed bewildered. It was Cranston who took up the story.
“A curious place, this turret entry,” he remarked, in a quiet, even tone, to which all listened. “When I came here tonight, I had a strange sense of danger. I opened the outer door and stepped out to call my car. It had left.
“When I turned back, some one had bolted the door. Jarvis Raleigh is right, there was a mysterious presence in this turret. Then the fighting started. I was forced to take cover by the wall. When the lull came, I hurried into the house.”
Not one person doubted the plausibility of this story. Still playing the part of Lamont Cranston, The Shadow had completely disassociated his own part with that of the supposed millionaire.
“This floor” — Cranston was pointing downward — “might well be a death trap, despite its apparent solidity. Yet the turret itself is even more remarkable. Look upward, gentlemen. Note those walls of solid stone.”
ALL eyes turned upward as Cranston’s hand was raised. The quiet voice continued:
“A cylinder of stone — a vertical shaft that seems to taper — as all shafts do. Yet this one, when I studied it closely, several nights ago, seemed to taper to an unusual degree. Its perspective is wrong. It forms an optical illusion.”
“You may be right, Mr. Cranston,” asserted Cardona, suddenly. “I see what you mean. The wall looks straight; but it slopes inward all the way up.”
“Exactly. More than fifteen feet in diameter at the base. Yet at the top, as I estimate it, the width of this upright tube is scarcely more than six. The cupola, itself, is full size.
“The illusion is perfect; yet there is one way to detect it. That is to study the turret from the outside. It seems shorter when viewed from the outside than it does when we look upward from within.
“I might hazard the belief that there is a hiding place at the top — a circular room, between the outer and the inner walls of the turret. It could be reached from the cupola, should one venture that high.”
“Get a ladder,” ordered Joe Cardona. “We’re going up—”
Turning, the detective paused. He stared toward the inner hall. Barbara Wyldram had appeared. The girl was highly excited.
“Where is Stokes” she questioned. “Stokes Corvin? I must tell him—”
“The man you knew as Stokes Corvin is dead,” interposed Lamont Cranston quietly. “This is the real Stokes Corvin.”
Barbara stared bewildered. She saw Jarvis Raleigh. For once, the owner of Montgard appeared sympathetic. The girl clutched Raleigh’s arm.
“Your laboratory!” she exclaimed. “The door is open; and inside I saw an opened panel in the wall. There was an iron ladder. Leading upward.”
“Let’s go to the laboratory,” ordered Joe Cardona. “That’s where we’ll find the answer.”
WHEN the group reached the laboratory, they discovered what Barbara had reported. A perfectly fitted panel had been removed from the wall, directly in back of the turret. It showed a narrow space with iron rungs leading up to the secret room which Lamont Cranston had decided must exist.
Joe Cardona ascended. He returned a few minutes later. He walked directly to Jarvis Raleigh and silently extended his hand in congratulation. Then he turned to the others.
“Perhaps,” stated Cardona, “you have all heard of The Shadow. As a detective — as a crime fighter — he hasn’t an equal. We owe this discovery to him. He was here tonight.
“As near as I can figure it, he must have scaled the inside of that turret. There’s an opening under the copula, just as Mr. Cranston thought. The circular room is there all right — and from what I could see of money bags and gold ornaments, there’s a million or more that belongs to Jarvis Raleigh.”
“My father’s wealth,” asserted Raleigh. “I knew that it was hidden here. I would never search for it; nor would Quarley. I do not need it. It will go to other relatives — and to charity.”
“Suit yourself, Mr. Raleigh,” returned Cardona. “Anyway, the stuff is there; and it’s what those crooks were after. Luskin must have learned a lot about this place. He was a sap to blab to Mallet Haverly and Rags Wilkey.
“They needed an inside man, to make sure that Luskin was right; a fellow to let them in when they were ready. From your description of the last fight, sheriff, The Shadow must have been here to stop theft before; and he showed up again tonight.”
Cardona paused to point to the opening in the laboratory wall; then, resuming his reconstruction of events, he added:
“The Shadow found this way to the laboratory. He must have come down through and picked up the fight from inside the house. That’s why the gorillas were scattering when we arrived.”
“One question,” stated Jarvis Raleigh, turning to the real Stokes Corvin. “How did you happen to learn that an impostor was here in my house?”
“Odd circumstances,” returned Stokes Corvin. “More than a week ago, I received a mysterious cablegram summoning me to New York. I was told to await further information at the Hotel Metrolite.
“Last night, I received a mysterious letter.” He produced it from his pocket. “Unsigned, it told me to call on Detective Cardona and to request him to come with me to Glenwood, there to introduce myself in person to Sheriff Burton Haggar. I found Detective Cardona; he came with me this evening.”
“And when this fellow introduced himself,” declared Haggar, “I brought him here in a hurry, along with a posse. I knew there was a fellow here who called himself Stokes Corvin. When the right man showed me his passports, I figured that you had a phony staying with you, Mr. Raleigh.”
The physician appeared at the door of the laboratory. He spoke to Jarvis Raleigh.
“Quarley is resting comfortably,” he announced. “He will recover. By the way, is there a gentleman here named Cranston?”
“Yes,” returned Raleigh, “This is Mr. Cranston.”
“Your car has arrived,” stated the physician. “It is waiting in front of the house.”
“I told Stanley to return,” remarked Cranston. “I was not sure that I would stay all night. In view of the extraordinary events that have occurred, I think it would be best for me to return to New York. I shall write you, Mr. Raleigh, arranging another appointment.”
With that, Cranston bowed good night and walked toward the door of the laboratory. He paused; turned and added a suggestion:
“I should advise a further study of the turret entry,” he stated. “The floor strikes me as suspicious. Good night, gentlemen.”
JOE CARDONA pondered. A few minutes after Lamont Cranston had departed, he suggested a trip downstairs. He led the way to the turret. Cranston’s car had gone; the deputies had departed carrying the dead and wounded attackers who had failed to capture Montgard.
“This floor is solid as rock,” growled Cardona, as he stamped upon the tiling. “Yet I’ve got a hunch that Mr. Cranston was right about it. There’s no use tearing it up, unless—”
Cardona stopped abruptly as the floor moved downward. It stopped after a drop of a few inches. Cardona motioned the others back into the house while he sprang for the front door.
While all watched from safety, the floor began to slide in the direction of the living room. Cardona and the others stared as the duplicate floor took the place of the first.
Hardly had it shifted into position before the warning click occurred. The quadrants dropped downward like yawning jaws. Astounded men stared into the abyss.
“Reeves Lockwood!” gasped Jarvis Raleigh. “Merton Helmsford — Sidney Richland — that is where they met their end — like the others who went before them!