at fifty thousand dollars. They are holding Gillespie's secretary in Los Angeles, but I don't think that they can prove the crime against him.'
Cranston's eyes seemed to question why. Denwood explained the reason.
'The secretary had taken half the bonds to Los Angeles,' he said, 'and delivered them there, before the theft of the rest was discovered. No crook would have turned over one batch of fifty thousand dollars, while stealing another.'
Denwood's logic was solid. The Shadow suggested that he proceed with his account.
'The next case,' declared Denwood, 'concerns the Jamison paintings. They were shipped here by air.
When the crates were opened, the paintings were missing. But they were not opened until the day after they arrived. No one knows what happened to them.
'Those paintings were valued at approximately one hundred thousand dollars. So were the Albion statuettes, which were stolen next. Oddly, their case was just the reverse of the Jamison paintings. Mr.
Albion had the statuettes here, and decided to send them away. They were packed in a safe and the whole thing shipped over the mountains, by truck, under proper guard.
'When the safe was opened at the Albion home in Los Angeles, it was found to contain blocks of lead, instead of platinum statuettes. Where, and how, the robbery occurred is a mystery. So far, news of it has been suppressed, except among influential members of this colony.'
CRANSTON'S face was as impassive as ever, but Denwood could sense The Shadow's keen interest.
Leaning forward, Denwood drove home the most important point.
'There were three important nights,' he emphasized. 'One, when Gillespie's secretary left for Los Angeles. The next, when the Jamison paintings arrived. The last was the night before the Albion statuettes were shipped. On each of those nights-'
'Professor Scorpio gave a seance,' interposed The Shadow, 'at the residences of the persons in question.'
Henry Denwood smiled.
'I suppose that Vincent has already told you,' he said. 'So there is the whole story, Mr. Cranston. But Scorpio is clever, damnably so! There isn't a scrap of tangible evidence against him.'
'He could have accomplices-'
'His spirits, maybe. He produces them whenever he gives a seance. People suspect that they are fakes, but it can't be proven. Besides, the spooks were always in sight, like the professor.'
There was a pause. The Shadow's eyes steadied on Denwood; then came the question:
'What about your servant Mr. Denwood? I mean Horace, the chap who skipped this afternoon?'
'A petty thing,' returned Denwood. 'I had less than a hundred dollars in my desk drawer. Horace knew that I intended to discharge him. He couldn't have figured in anything more important, even with his eavesdropping-'
Denwood paused. He was considering Horace, wondering if the man had been important. Something in Cranston's manner impressed Denwood. He began to realize that The Shadow might have some deep answer to the Horace matter. He was about to inquire, when a knock at the door interrupted.
When Denwood gave the summons to enter, Harry ushered a bulky man into the room. Denwood was surprised to see Claude Kirk, the county sheriff, who displayed a badge on one lapel and a gun butt on the opposite hip. When Denwood introduced Cranston to the sheriff, Kirk promptly shook hands and came to business.
'You're the man I want to talk to,' declared the sheriff. 'It's about Drury. He was murdered!'
The Shadow saw the wave of real surprise that swept over Denwood's face. Maybe Denwood would begin to understand about Horace.
'Somebody gave Drury a package of poisoned cigarettes,' explained the sheriff. 'We found one of them on the plane; the rest in Drury's pocket.'
Denwood saw Cranston give a slow nod.
'I noticed the cigarette,' declared The Shadow, in his calm tone. 'Drury opened the pack and put an unlighted cigarette in his mouth just before he collapsed. It must have contained a most virulent poison.'
'It did,' maintained the sheriff. 'Thanks for the testimony. It confirms what Miss Melvin told us. But we haven't found out where Drury got the package of cigarettes. Did you see him buy any in Los Angeles?'
There was a shake of Cranston's head.
'Drury could have gotten it here,' mused the sheriff. 'If that was his second pack, he wouldn't have opened it until he was coming back.'
'Perhaps,' was Cranston's calm suggestion, 'Barcla can tell you where Drury obtained the cigarettes.'
'I'd like to find Barcla!' stormed the sheriff. 'He isn't at that shack of his. I'd like to know why he made that trip to L. A., in the first place. He rode out of here with Drury this morning came back again this afternoon.
'If we don't find him soon, I'm going to scour the woods for him. I've posted deputies on the roads, so he can't get through that way. Well, thanks again, Mr. Cranston. Maybe I'll be seeing you over at Miss Lodi's this evening.'
The sheriff shot a grim look at Denwood, in departing. It had to do with the reference to Miss Lodi. But Denwood happened to be thinking about Horace.
As soon as the sheriff was gone, Denwood came to his feet.
'It's through my head at last!' he exclaimed to Cranston. 'Horace heard me talking with Vincent. 'We mentioned your name and the fact that you were coming. Horace realized how important you might be, and passed the word along.'
'You have struck it, Denwood,' remarked The Shadow, with a smile, 'and we can also surmise why Barcla went to Los Angeles.'
'To watch you?'
'Exactly! Barcla is working with Professor Scorpio. It is his business to check on new arrivals at Lake Calada, when Scorpio considers them important.'
'And Drury's death! That was arranged, too, so that the plane would crash while you were a passenger!'
'Precisely.' agreed The Shadow. 'There are things happening in this territory that cannot stand the strain of outside investigation. Sheriff Kirk has not solved them, but someone else might.'
Denwood sat down. Sight of the opened desk drawer reminded him of Horace. He realized that the servant had staged the petty robbery to cover up his more important mission: that of learning facts regarding both Vincent and The Shadow.
Then came the quiet tone of Cranston: 'The sheriff mentioned a certain Miss Lodi-'
'The movie actress,' added Denwood. 'Paula Lodi, who lives in the lodge that looks like a movie set.
She and her husband, Howard Carradon, are giving a party this evening. I suppose that everyone will be there.'
'And everyone,' suggested The Shadow, 'should include Professor Scorpio.'
Denwood came to his feet again.
'It will, by Jove!' he exclaimed. 'Paula Lodi is crazy about the psychic stuff! She came here originally because it was Scorpio's favorite spot. Yes, the professor will be there, and what is more, he will give one of his seances.'
Lamont Cranston was lighting a fresh cigar. He blew a long puff of smoke and gazed reflectively into the cloud, as Professor Scorpio might have studied a crystal ball.
'Sometimes,' observed The Shadow, 'press agents tell the truth. If certain news reports are true, I can foresee Miss Paula Lodi bedecked in diamonds and other gems valued at a few hundred thousand dollars.'
'She will be,' expressed Denwood. 'Paula Lodi always wears them. She hasn't any sense, but her husband, Carradon, has. You can depend upon it: he's the one who asked Sheriff Kirk to be on hand, along with the rest of the Calada colony.'
'Including ourselves?'
For answer, Denwood stepped to the door. He requested Harry to bring the speedboat from its mooring buoy and have it ready at the dock. It could wait there, while Harry was changing to evening clothes.
'We've been invited to a party,' said Denwood, with a smile. 'and I've just found out that Mr. Cranston would like to go. We'll just have time to make it.'
Fifteen minutes later the speedboat was purring from its dock, with three passengers, its searchlight cutting
