But that was not all. He produced some sealing wax and lighted it, letting burning drops fall upon the back of the envelope. He clenched his left fist and pressed the hot wax with a signet ring that he wore on his third finger. Then he studied the seal that he had made, and a satisfied smile appeared upon his face.
A shadow fell on the floor beside his desk. It was a peculiar shadow, long and narrow. It was almost like the shadow of a human being. Had there been a sound, Bingham’s eyes might have wandered to the floor. But shadows are noiseless. The old man’s ears heard nothing.
The shadow was noiseless on the floor, and Bingham did not observe it when he turned his chair and swung away from the desk, still clutching the sealed envelope.
He did not glance toward the window as he walked by, so he did not see that the lower sash was raised. He went to the wall where the steel door stood, and drawing a key from his pocket, unlocked the barrier.
The door swung open toward the window, going back against a blank stretch of wall. The front of the safe was visible, and the old lawyer crouched before it as he worked the dial.
Although his body partly obscured the front of the safe, there were slight clicks that might have been heard. For the old man was deliberate in his movements.
As the door of the safe opened in the opposite direction from the steel door something happened behind Ezekiel Bingham - something which he did not see, and which even his keen ears did not hear.
An arm appeared through the window. It was a long arm, and it reached out toward the edge of the steel door. Long, supple fingers touched the key that was still in the lock, and drew it free. The arm disappeared through the wide bars of the window.
The lawyer was placing the sealed envelope in a compartment of the safe.
The arm appeared again. The hand held the key, and it again sought the steel door. The fingers sought to slip the key back in its place; they did not succeed at first, for the task was difficult. Finally, they made a delicate motion and the peculiar piece of metal found its proper resting place. The steel door moved slightly inward as the key entered the lock.
The slight sound it made was lost as the lawyer closed the door of the safe and spun the dial.
The hand began to draw away, empty. It moved quite slowly. Then it stopped.
Ezekiel Bingham had turned, and was staring at a spot on the floor. A shadowy blotch appeared there. The lawyer was studying it. He rose, and as his own shadow moved, the blot on the floor appeared to fade. The hand was gone, and Bingham had not seen it in the flesh.
The old lawyer gazed suddenly at the window. It was now closed at the bottom; he did not know it had been opened.
Yet he seemed perplexed. He turned and crouched before the safe; then arose and watched his shadow. No, it was not the same. He repeated the experiment. Still he was not satisfied. He went quickly to the window and opened the lower sash. He peered through the bars toward the lawn.
There were shadows there; shadows that seemed to move as the night breeze rustled the trees and bushes. A long shadow flitted over the lawn and vanished. But the keen, piercing eyes of the lawyer could detect nothing else. He had removed his reading glasses and was staring with his far-sighted eyes.
He closed the window and laughed. He turned back and shut the steel door with a clang. He removed the key and placed it in his pocket.
“Shadows,” he murmured. “When people worry about shadows, their minds begin to wander. Croaker talked of shadows. What was it he screamed the night he died? ‘The Shadow!’ That was it! Perhaps The Shadow is a living being. But if he is - what of it?”
The old man laughed again.
He went back to his desk and began to write.
But now his mind was alert as his ears had always been. At moments he gazed quickly toward the window, which he had closed and locked.
The hours went by and the first streaks of dawn appeared. Ezekiel Bingham finished his writing, laid the papers in the desk drawer and yawned.
There was a knock at his door.
“Come in.”
Jenks entered. The man was dressed in working clothes, and stood there, his stolid face impassive.
“I am on duty, sir.”
“All right, Jenks.”
The old lawyer went into the front room and made ready for bed. As he pulled down the shades to obscure the increasing rays of daylight, he smiled and spoke aloud.
“The Shadow!” were his words. “Some people have wild imaginations!”
A faint laugh seemed to mock the lawyer’s - words a laugh that issued feebly from the walls of his room.
“Bah!” snorted Bingham. “Just the scurrying feet of rats.”
CHAPTER XVIII
FELLOWS ASSEMBLES FACTS
Claude Fellows was working in his inner office. He was seated at his personal typewriter. The door to the outer office was closed.
The insurance broker had been engaged so all morning - ever since Harry Vincent had reported at nine o’clock, only to be told to come back toward the end of the day.
It was nearly half past one, and Fellows had not gone out for lunch. Evidently he intended to complete the work that he had in hand.
He struck a few words on the typewriter, then pondered. He shifted to another line, allowing considerable space, and typed a few more words.
He was nearly at the bottom of the sheet. He stopped and drew it from the machine, dropped the piece of paper upon others that were beside him, then carried them all to his desk. There were not many papers in the pile, but Fellows seemed satisfied with what he had accomplished.
He sorted through the sheets, arranged them in order, and read the one on top. It contained simple lines of condensed information that ran down the page at intervals.
Fellows read each statement in an undertone, pausing between the phrases:
“Geoffrey Laidlow - millionaire.
“No enemies - house at Holmwood.
“Collection of gems - kept in safe.
“Family away - wife and two sons.
“People in house - secretary and servants.”
Fellows paused and considered a row of stars that ran across the typewritten page. Then he read below:
“Laidlow returned home - accompanied by his secretary - went into
the library - closed the door - heard a sound in the house - went to the
study - discovered a man at the open safe - was shot and killed - by
revolver kept in safe.”
Fellows laid the sheet of paper face down upon his desk. He scanned the next page of typewriting:
“Howard Burgess - Laidlow’s secretary - came in with Laidlow - with
him in library - ready to go out - wearing coat and gloves - was with
Laidlow - followed him to the study - attacked by the burglar - shot in
the arm - followed the burglar - ran to front window - saw the burglar
escape.”
