Three deaths in three months, each coupled with a huge robbery. The police blamed Shark Meglo. So did The Shadow; but Shark was slippery. It had taken The Shadow a long while to trace him. Tonight was The Shadow's opportunity to end the murderer's evil career.
Police interference would bungle it. Shark knew how to dodge the law. The Shadow's one chance was to stop Shark at the spot where crime was intended: the home of Hugo Silsam. Everything had been ready when The Shadow found it necessary to abandon his role of Cranston.
That was why Harry was going as The Shadow's substitute, to watch events in Silsam's home. That did not mean that The Shadow would be absent. On the contrary, he would be close at hand to stop the criminal's thrust. Harry's part was to size the situation and give The Shadow word, when and where to enter.
GUESTS were coming from Silsam's when Harry arrived there; but the dinner party had not entirely ended. It was quarter of nine; and Harry saw immediately that the house had not cleared sufficiently for Shark Meglo to begin operations.
Harry gave his name to the servant who admitted him. The man was evidently Silsam's butler, for his dryish face showed an air of authority as he craned his long neck forward.
'I do not think that Mr. Silsam is expecting you, Mr. Vincent -'
'That's all right,' assured Harry. 'I called him an hour ago, and told him that I was a friend of Mr.
Cranston. Mr. Silsam said to be here before nine.'
'You called Mr. Silsam? I thought it was Mr. Cranston who called.'
Harry laughed indulgently. He told the butler that Lamont Cranston was in Europe. As the man's face began to show enlightenment, Harry added:
'You must have misunderstood me over the telephone.'
The butler decided that it would be best to usher the visitor into Silsam. The fellow led the way, and Harry followed. During his talk with the butler, he had learned facts that he wanted, regarding the layout of the ground floor.
The hallway was a long one. On the right, a broad doorway showed the living room, its deserted table illuminated by candles that had burned down to small stumps. On the left was a living room, from which Harry could hear voices.
Through the living room doorway, Harry saw the rear wall of the room itself. There was a closed door at the back, and Harry was sure that it led into Silsam's study.
That was where the safe would be; the strategic spot where The Shadow could await the murderous masked crooks.
A glance to the rear of the hallway gave Harry a view of a short passage that turned left. It certainly led to an outside door at the side of the house; a perfect mode of entry for The Shadow; once he was informed of the interior arrangement. Harry intended to supply that information in prompt order.
THERE were three men in the living room, all making ready for departure; but none answered the description of Silsam.
As Harry looked about, puzzled, the door opened from the study, proving the room to be as Harry pictured it. A stoopish, testy-faced man came into the living room. He was Hugo Silsam.
The butler spoke to Silsam in an undertone. The elderly copper king scowled for a moment as he looked at Harry. Then Silsam gave a dry chuckle. He nodded to the butler and said:
'Very well, Wintham.'
With an expression that he meant for a smile, Silsam shook hands with Harry. He introduced him to the other guests; two of them departed immediately. While Wintham was showing them out, Silsam restrained the last man.
That guest was a tall, heavily built man, blunt-featured and keen-eyed. His name was Michael Chanbury, and Harry had heard of him.
Chanbury was a wealthy art collector; and Harry knew that he must be close to sixty years of age. In appearance, however, Chanbury looked scarcely more than forty-five. He had an active manner; his hair, though grizzled, showed no trend toward complete grayness.
'I want you to remain, Chanbury,' chuckled Silsam. 'We are due to have another visitor.'
'You mean Mr. Cranston?' queried Chanbury. 'I understood you to say that he would be here.'
'No, no,' Silsam shook his bead. 'Cranston will not be here at all. It was Mr. Vincent who called me, a while ago. The mistake was mine. But' - he fumed to Harry - 'you will have to help me explain it, Mr.
Vincent.'
Harry looked perplexed. Silsam explained.
'I called the Cobalt Club a few minutes ago,' said the copper king, 'to make sure just when Cranston would arrive. When I asked for Cranston, who do you think came on the telephone? The police commissioner, Ralph Weston!'
It was Chanbury's turn to show astonishment.
'Weston talked like a madman,' added Silsam. 'When he heard that I expected Cranston - as I actually thought I did - he said that he would come here right away. He seems very anxious to locate Cranston, unless -'
SILSAM paused. His eyes took on a shrewd look. Abruptly, he motioned his companions toward the study. Chanbury went first. Harry stopped to light a cigarette near the bay window of the living room. As he struck a match, he turned his face toward the darkened pane.
Unnoticed by either Silsam or Chanbury, Harry used one hand to wigwag a rapid signal, telling The Shadow of the study's location. Harry was confident that eyes from the outer darkness had caught that quick-flashed word.
With his lips, Harry added a soundless statement, as he looked toward the window. The words that he phrased were:
'Weston coming here.'
There was no time for more. Chanbury had entered the study; Silsam was waiting impatiently at the door.
Harry finished fake operations with the cigarette and joined the stoop-shouldered copper king. They entered the study.
A clock showed seven minutes of nine. Harry could picture The Shadow working on the side door, a process that would require no more than five minutes. The Shadow would be inside when crooks gathered at nine. He would be ready for their thrust.
Weston's arrival might cause a hitch. Gathering underworld members might scatter if they saw the police commissioner. On the contrary, a desperado like Shark Meglo might make a bold raid while Weston was present.
All that, Harry decided, hinged on the time element. Chances were that masked invaders would enter promptly at nine o'clock, and that Weston would not be here that soon.
Silsam stepped to a safe in the far corner of the study. He made quick turns of the dial; the safe door opened. Turning about, Silsam spoke in a high-pitched voice.
'You are an old friend, Chanbury,' he said. 'Since Vincent is a friend of Cranston's, I can trust him also.
Here is the reason why Commissioner Weston may have chosen to visit me tonight.'
Silsam brought an ebony box from the safe and plunked it on a table. He opened the lid. Light shimmered upon a resplendent array of gems. The green of emeralds vied with the red of rubies; and the collection included some magnificent sapphires. Diamonds were plentiful, but less conspicuous.
The gems were mounted in rings and brooches of heavy gold. While Chanbury plucked items of jewelry to examine them more closely, Silsam invited Harry to do the same. As he spoke, Silsam pressed a button on the wall.
Almost immediately, Wintham appeared at the door from the living room, with the query:
'You rang for me, sir?'
'Yes,' informed Silsam. 'I am expecting Police Commissioner Weston. Usher him in here as soon as he arrives.'
Wintham went through the living room. Silsam turned to the box of gems. In his pleased cackle, he declared:
