'I'm a graduate of Oxford - and of Heidelberg. Spent most of my youth abroad - and what a youth it was! I married while I was abroad. I lived in Paris and the old man was going to disinherit me. But I came back after my wife died.
'Then my father left me his fortune. I've been many places since, but I've always been an idler. Married again. Now my wife and daughters have left me.
'But I've been cagy, Clifford! Always had plenty of money, and kept increasing it. Until now. I'm losing millions, right now. Driving me mad. Someone's driving me mad -'
His voice trailed off. Hubert Banks sank down in his chair. He seemed too tired to talk. Clifford Gage watched him solemnly as the minutes moved by. Then he arose and silently left the room. He met the butler at the top of the steps.
'Mr. Banks is asleep,' Gage informed the servant.
'Yes, sir,' replied the butler.
'What's your name?' inquired Gage.
'Herbert, sir.'
'What other servants are in the house?'
'Graham, Mr. Banks' valet. Chalmers, his chauffeur.'
'How long have you been here?'
'Only a few months, sir.'
'And the others?'
'The same, sir. Mr. Banks discharged all his servants since the first of the year. We are a new lot, sir.'
'All right, Herbert. Mr. Banks is expecting a new secretary, whom I have recommended. His name is Mr. Vincent. You will remind Mr. Banks of that fact, you understand?'
'Yes, sir.'
Gage's eyes seemed piercing as they studied the butler's face. They glowed with a light that seemed uncanny to the servant. Satisfied, the visitor turned and walked to the door, picking up his hat and cane from the table where they lay.
The butler stood petrified. He totally forgot his duty of ushering Clifford Gage from the house. His eyes were fascinated by the huge shadow that followed the visitor as he walked to the door. It seemed like a living form that moved of its own accord.
The door slammed. Herbert blinked and rubbed his eyes. He fancied that he still saw that mammoth blotch upon the floor, even after the visitor had departed!
CHAPTER XII. DOCTOR ZERNDORFF AGREES
IT was late the same night. Doctor Zerndorff had not retired. He had spent the evening in his laboratory constructing a bomb patterned after the one that had been made by Vervick.
He intended to test two factors - its explosive force, and the action of the detonator when the charge was in place. Neither of these could be done with the original bomb, for it was necessary as evidence at police headquarters.
Otto entered and handed a visiting card to the criminologist. It bore the engraved name - Clifford Gage.
Doctor Zerndorff studied it impatiently.
'Tell him I am busy, Otto.'
'He says it is very important, sir,' said the attendant, in German.
Doctor Zerndorff glanced at the card again. It was then that he noted something peculiar. Across the face of the card lay a light gray shadow, extending diagonally from one corner to the other.
Doctor Zerndorff moved the card beneath the light, but the shadow did not change. Then it faded away.
Zerndorff blinked. He stared at the white wall of the laboratory, to see if his vision was failing him.
Satisfied that his eyes had not deceived him, he smiled.
'Bring him into the reception room, Otto,' he said.
Doctor Zerndorff concluded his experiments for the evening. He took off his working coat and put on his dressing gown.
Thus, informally attired, he went into the reception room to meet his visitor. He took a chair opposite Clifford Gage, who accepted a cigar.
'Doctor Zerndorff,' remarked Gage, 'I have come to discuss important matters. A few nights ago a man
- a friend of mine - who called himself Henry Arnaud - escaped arrest for a murder which he did not commit.
'The real criminal has now confessed his crime and is dead. I refer to Killer Bryan.'
Zerndorff nodded.
'This Mr. Arnaud,' continued Gage, in a quiet voice, 'wished to discuss certain matters with you.
Inasmuch as his whereabouts are now unknown, I have come in his stead.'
Zerndorff smiled and bowed.
'I have learned,' said Gage, 'that you are a man of great capacity, unrestricted by the usual limitations that surround those who are connected with police departments.'
'I thank you, Mr. Gage.'
There was a peculiar tone in Doctor Zerndorff's voice. The words did not reveal his actual thoughts. The tone was different from Zerndorff's customary speech. It might have betokened keen interest; or it might have been tinged with irony.
Clifford Gage was momentarily thoughtful, then he became definitely confidential.
'Doctor Zerndorff,' he said, 'I have discovered new and important angles that concern the bombings which you have been investigating!
'It is my usual procedure to keep my findings to myself. In this instance, there are reasons why I have chosen to confide in you. I have come to offer you my full cooperation!'
The criminologist raised his eyebrows. He was interested now. He suspected the identity of this stranger.
Intuitively, he linked him with the mysterious man known as The Shadow. He had every reason to suppose that Clifford Gage was The Shadow himself.
'This interests me,' he said. 'It is most interesting, yes. I shall promise to you this: whatever you may say to me, no one else shall hear!'
Clifford Gage reached forward and the men shook hands. It was an action of mutual understanding.
The piercing gaze of the visitor met the stern glance of the German professor. Each man knew that he had found a coworker worthy of himself.
'Let me ask you, doctor,' said Gage, settling back in his chair. 'What is your full theory regarding these explosions? Is it exactly as stated in the newspapers?'
Doctor Zerndorff nodded.
'It is quite plain,' he replied. 'Plain to me, yes. It is the work of those two men - Sforza and Pecherkin -
who have been in this country so long, now, waiting until they could do as they have done in Russia and in Italy.'
'Then you believe that the bombs were placed in vital spots about New York, simply to create terrorism
- as an aftermath of the unsuccessful May Day activities.'
'That is just so!'
'Do you link any other crimes with the bombings?' Gage questioned.
'No.'
'What of the murder of Perry Warfield? Why was he killed? Why was Matthew Stokes murdered?'
Doctor Zerndorff shrugged his shoulders despairingly.
'There are many such killings in New York,' he said. 'It is incredible to me, Mr. Gage, that you should speak of them. Simply because they have happened soon after those big explosions is not a reason why we should connect them!'
Clifford Gage rose from his chair and walked slowly across the floor. He reached the window and stood
