“Promise me,” said the girl, “that you will say nothing unless Graham makes some attempt to follow his foolish threat. Will you promise, father?”
Delkin gave a slow nod. He was staring toward the door; Eunice was watching him. Neither knew that other eyes were upon them; that an intruder was spying through the half-opened window. This stormy scene with Graham Wellerton had been observed by an outsider who had more than a passing interest in the affair!
When Eunice left her father alone, Ralph Delkin still seemed in a dazed state. The girl knew that he was pondering over the vague threat which Graham Wellerton had made. She felt sure, however, that all would be well.
There was one, however, in Southwark, who understood that some great calamity was threatening. Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, was that man. At midnight, Harry stopped in the telegraph office to send a telegram to Rutledge Mann, in New York.
There was nothing in the telegram to indicate it as other than an ordinary message pertaining to some minor business. Actually, however, the wording of the wire had a special significance. That telegram was an emergency message to The Shadow - a prompt report to tell the master of darkness that grim events were in the making.
Harry Vincent knew that The Shadow would respond. Whatever might occur in Southwark, The Shadow’s might would be here to play a vital part!
CHAPTER XX
THE ANSWER
THE next day was Saturday. Graham Wellerton attended to the affairs of the short business day. As evening approached, he dropped in to see Harwin Dowser.
Graham had no intention of telling the old lawyer what had happened - at least not for the present. He knew, however, that he might have to make use of legal advice at any time. He wanted to be sure that Dowser would be in town.
In response to Graham’s casual questioning, Dowser stated that he intended to spend the week-end at his home. Dowser lived in a large house about two miles out of Southwark, hence he would be accessible should Graham need him.
“What is the trouble, Wellerton?” quizzed the lawyer. “You are not worried about business affairs?”
“Nothing special,” responded Graham. “I have various matters to consider and I intend to stay at home tomorrow on that account. It just occurred to me that I might find some questions that would require your answer.”
Harwin Dowser eyed the young man shrewdly. The old lawyer, experienced in his study of human nature, could sense that his client was troubled. Dowser shook his head knowingly after Graham had departed.
Back in his old house, Graham dined alone and dismissed the servant for the evening. He quietly awaited the arrival of Carma, for he felt sure that the woman would come to learn the answer to her demands. Thinking of Carma brought up the subject of Ralph Delkin.
Graham lighted a cigarette and went out on the front porch to smoke. He was convinced, beyond all doubt, that Delkin had sent for Carma. He felt a strong resentment toward the man, but as he considered the matter, Graham could not regain the indignation of the previous evening.
After all, Graham had been a crook. Why should he criticize Delkin for turning crooked? The manufacturer was desperate. He had discovered a perfect opportunity to bleed a man who had much wealth.
What hurt Graham was the fact that he would gladly have offered funds to Delkin. Carma was the reason why Graham hated this whole turn of events. He was determined to balk the woman’s game no matter what the penalty might be.
The night was cloudy. A thrumming announced that an airplane was passing overhead. The coupled circumstances made Graham remember that night when he had robbed his uncle’s safe in an effort to aid Ralph Delkin. What strange consequences had come from that! In one short month, Graham’s fortunes had risen and fallen. Tonight, another crisis was at hand.
Graham went back into the house. He sat at a desk and began to write with pen and ink. After several attempts at careful wording, which involved the destruction of unfinished effort, Graham completed his task.
AN hour had passed. There was a ring at the door. Graham went to answer it. He found Carma waiting there. The young man stared coldly, then invited the woman to enter.
Once again, Graham’s eyes did not notice the space beyond the porch. Someone was there - but even had Graham stared coldly, he could not have detected the phantom figure which lingered. That weird shape was almost part of the night itself!
Graham conducted Carma into the living room. They were out of sight of the front door, hence neither saw that barrier open softly. No eyes observed the tall being clad in black that moved with spectral tread as it came to the door of the room itself.
The Shadow had arrived in Southwark. Lost in the gloom of Graham Wellerton’s dimly lighted hallway, this master who battled crime was a silent observer of the interview which was now to take place!
“Well, big boy,” began Carma, “here I am. What have you got to say?”
“Regarding the money that you want?”
“You guessed it.”
“I have made my decision,” declared Graham. “I intend to give you all my money.”
“What!” exclaimed Carma. “The whole amount?”
“Exactly,” returned Graham, “but not at present. That is the only qualification.”
“So that’s it, eh?” jeered Carma. “Trying to stall me?”
“Not at all,” said Graham. “Here is the paper which I have prepared. It is my will.”
“Your will?”
“Yes. A bequeathment - to you - of all the money which I may have when I die.”
“Where do you get that stuff!” sneered Carma. “When you die! How does that help me?”
“I gained the money through my uncle’s death,” declared Graham. “You, in turn, will gain it through mine. My uncle accumulated his wealth through evil practices. He left it to me because he felt that I would use it to further crime.
“Instead, I have been using the cash for good. In respect of my uncle’s feelings - no matter how unfair they may have been - I shall cease my philanthropies. I intend to live upon the interest, keeping the principal.
“Should I survive you, I shall be free to use the money as I wish. Should you survive me, the entire capital will be yours. That is a fair arrangement - a sporting chance for both of us.”
“Yeah?” questioned Carma, in a malicious tone. “Well, it doesn’t suit me, big boy. How do you like that? Come across on a fifty-fifty basis, or I squeal.”
“Good,” decided Graham. “If you do that, I shall destroy this will and leave all my money to charity.”
“You will go to prison.”
“For twenty years at the most. Perhaps less. I have already arranged to make restitution of funds that I have stolen. I do not relish a term in the penitentiary, but when I am free, I shall still have the bulk of my uncle’s millions.
“Then, if you survive me, you will gain nothing. Even your claim for a widow’s share will be nullified - in all probability. You have your choice - all when I die or nothing.”
“And how does that help me now?”
“I must mention that, Carma. So long as you live, I shall provide you with a comfortable income, provided that you remain away from Southwark and keep silent. If you fail in either of these terms, I shall cut off the money that I am giving you; and I shall be willing to take the consequences.”
“You think I won’t squeal?” scoffed Carma.
“I think you will,” rejoined Graham calmly. “Nevertheless, I am willing to face the music.”
“All right, big boy,” threatened Carma. “Get ready for a lot of trouble.”
“Better think it over, Carma,” suggested Graham. “I shall have this will witnessed tonight. I am calling my lawyer, Harwin Dowser, to tell him that I have prepared the document. On Monday, I shall deliver it to him, unless I should happen to see him before then.
“Dowser does not know that I am married. When he learns that fact, he will not be surprised to learn that I
