'In my land,' said the rajah sagely, 'we regard no gem as worthy of importance unless men have died in quest of it. Every great ruby can be said to own its color from the blood of those who have warred for its possession. The green of emeralds comes from the grass that grows above the graves of those whose lives were lost in seeking to gain, or keep, the stone they so prized.
'Seldom has any sapphire brought murder to its owner. But the stars of the sky have now looked down upon six scenes of death. I would like the Star of Delhi, itself, to speak its story, like the stars of the firmament. In my land, we believe in the stars. They have told me that the Star of Delhi was not destroyed -'
'No, no!' interrupted Crome. 'It was cut, I tell you, into six smaller sapphires!'
'Such could not be,' inserted the rajah, while Margo stared, enraptured by his manner. 'No man like yourself, Mr. Crome, would have allowed such a crime to happen. Such a crime, I mean, as the ruin of the priceless Star of Delhi. I would only like to see the gem, to know if it could have a price.'
THE rajah's definition of crime was the point that made Crome capitulate. He felt, at last, that he had found a friend in whom he could confide. Weighed down by the secret of the Star's true story, craving to be rid of the purchase that Garmath had forced upon him, Crome staggered to a safe and opened it.
Not only did he show the rajah the Star of Delhi, he poured out the whole history of Lenfell's swindle and Garmath's double cross. With it, Crome swore that he had known nothing of impending murder until after the deaths had been delivered. Garmath's visit had been his first meeting with the master killer.
Margo believed him, as did the rajah. Finding them sympathetic, Crome added to his tale of woe.
'If I sell the Star of Delhi,' he said hoarsely, 'Garmath may kill me! He knows that I am worried -'
The telephone bell began to ring. The start that Crome gave convinced Margo that the old man expected a call from Garmath. The Rajah of Lengore was of the same opinion. He stepped close to Crome.
'Tell Garmath that you are glad you bought the Star,' advised the rajah. 'Say that all you want is a way out, in case anyone accuses you of owning it.'
'But - how?'
'Garmath made one replica of the Star of Delhi,' returned the rajah. 'Ask him to manufacture another. It will be your alibi. You can produce it, upon demand; when it is examined and found to be synthetic, you will be regarded as another dupe, like Lenfell; nothing more.'
His lips tightening in a wise smile, Crome picked up the telephone. His voice firmed as he chatted with Garmath. In the course of conversation, Crome put the request that the rajah had suggested. His call finished, he hung up, still retaining his smile.
'It will take forty-eight hours,' he declared. 'Then, Garmath will deliver the replica. After that, I can sell you the Star of Delhi. I shall put the false stone with my other sapphires, where anyone can view it, while I smile. Anyone, including Jan Garmath, should he visit me!'
Margo thought that the visit was completed, but she was wrong. For the next fifteen minutes, the Rajah of Lengore continued to talk terms with Uriah Crome regarding the future sale of the real Star of Delhi.
When she left with the rajah, Margo felt nervous. As they rode in their limousine, she was sure that another car was following them.
A word from the rajah to the chauffeur, and the big car pulled suddenly into an obscure parking place.
Looking back, Margo saw a car round the corner and roll past. After it came a taxicab that looked very much like Moe Shrevnitz's. Margo turned to speak to the man beside her. Her new friend, the rajah, was gone!
The cab was slowing, but only for a moment. As it picked up speed, Margo saw blackness within its door, which had opened, and now was closing as if of its own accord. It was Moe's cab, and it had picked up a cloaked passenger, to take him along a new trail.
Alone in the limousine, Margo Lane, the erstwhile Hindu princess, realized very suddenly that Lamont Cranston couldn't have gone to the Cobalt Club this evening. Instead, he had come to take her to Crome's.
For Lamont Cranston had played the part of the imaginary Rajah of Lengore; now both - Cranston and the rajah - had merged into the cloaked personality of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XIX. CRIME'S FORCED THRUST
IN a little boxlike room, Jan Garmath sat at a desk studying an array of gems. He recognized the knock at the door and spoke for his visitor to enter. Dwig Brencott stepped into sight. Without looking up, Garmath used a pair of tweezers to lift a fair-sized ruby and hold it into the light.
'How do you like it?' queried Garmath. 'I fused it from three smaller stones. One good way to dispose of stolen goods at high prices. This work intrigues me, Dwig -'
'Trouble, chief,' Dwig interposed. 'Thought I'd better tell you.'
'Is it Sherbrock again?' snarled Garmath. 'We've been too lenient with the fellow. Maybe he realizes that we are feeding him well, and keeping him in good health, so they will not believe him should he claim that he was kidnapped.'
'We can put Sherbrock back in circulation soon enough,' affirmed Dwig. 'He's the fellow to take the rap for all the job's we've pulled. But Sherbrock isn't the trouble. It's Crome.'
Garmath perched his thin chin in his hand and gave Dwig a very dubious stare.
'Listen, chief,' Dwig insisted earnestly. 'You've got to take this seriously. Only two nights ago, I tried to trail the Hindu who stopped in at Crome's -'
'And failed -'
'Yes,' Dwig, conceded, 'I failed. But suppose The Shadow was around. What if he trailed me back here?'
Garmath shook his head, as though the argument wearied him.
'If The Shadow had located us,' declared Garmath, 'he would have attacked at once. Calm yourself on that point, Dwig. Now - what about Crome?'
'I called our look-out over there,' replied Dwig. 'He says that Commissioner Weston just dropped in for a chat with our dear friend, Uriah Crome!'
There wasn't a flicker of alarm on Garmath's dryish features. Rather, the situation intrigued the master murderer. He drew a watch from his pocket and noted the time; then remarked:
'Only an hour more -'
He shrugged, as though a trifle disappointed. Then, gathering his fused gems into a box, Garmath considered the changed situation. He finally explained it, for Dwig's benefit.
'I had intended to let you deliver the synthetic sapphire that Crome wanted,' Garmath said. 'Partly as a test; also, so that you could get a good look at his premises. Had he decided to sell the Star of Delhi to the Rajah of Lengore, it would have meant the end of my promise to protect him. I planned to wait and see.'
'And send me to Crome,' reminded Dwig, 'if you found out he'd double-crossed you.'
'Precisely! His receiving the police commissioner is the equivalent of a double cross. It gives us the privilege of reprisal. Go there at once, Dwig, with your crew, and settle scores with Crome.'
'We're to handle the commissioner, too?'
'Of course! By this time, Crome is probably telling him the whole story. Bring back all of Crome's jewels, including the Star of Delhi.'
With Dwig, Garmath walked from the tiny room into a larger one. Lights showed a stone-walled passage just ahead. This hide-away was underground. Dwig started out through the passage, then paused.
'If I pull away the whole crew,' he reminded, 'the place won't be safe -'
'Anything unknown is safe,' interrupted Garmath testily. 'Try to forget The Shadow, Dwig. However, you may leave one man, to answer the signal when you return. Of course' - he nudged toward a narrow stairway that led upward - 'I still have Krem. He is worth half a dozen of your men.'
Dwig didn't dispute the question. He went out by his own route, taking along five men who were waiting in another room. Cautiously, they left by a steel door and came up to the level of the sidewalk. Sending four men across to a darkened alley, Dwig told one to wait.
'We're going on a job,' Dwig informed the guard. 'Three raps - two quick, then a slow one' - Dwig illustrated, by clanking a revolver butt against the door - 'means we're back. Don't waste time letting us in. We may be in a rush.'
