realized that his remark had merely been a statement in keeping with the Cranston pose. It wasn't policy with Cranston to know what The Shadow had planned until someone else told him.
'A peculiar chap, The Shadow,' observed Cranston quietly. 'He usually succeeds; but tonight he bungled things. He is partly to blame for Walder's death, but I suppose we cannot criticize him. Crime certainly took an unexplainable twist.'
Margo arched her eyebrows. So far, she agreed that the attempted robbery at Walder's was unexplainable, but she was gaining the impression that Cranston had an answer to the riddle. The way to get an answer was to ask for one.
'Very well, Lamont,' said Margo. 'Just why did Dwig and his masked crew head the wrong way? We thought that they would go after the truck; instead, they went into the jewelry store. What was their reason?'
Cranston spoke three words:
'To murder Walder!'
The fact was so simple that it took Margo's breath away. She had racked her brain for the answer, and Cranston had provided it in a style that left no room for dispute. The explanation brought a flood of ideas, all in keeping with the theme itself.
Margo realized that the surge of masked men into Walder's couldn't have been a robbery attempt, at all, for she knew the flaws in the theories held by Weston and Cardona.
Not being a robbery, it had been a cover-up for something else. Dwig and his ugly band wouldn't have wasted time at getting to their objective. One use of cover-ups was to make a success look like a failure.
Dwig Brencott had accomplished that very purpose.
The one thing that the law did not suspect was the fact that unknown men had sought to slay Raymond Walder, rather than to rob his store or to seize the six sapphires that some wealthy, unnamed patron had asked him to display.
The riddle of seven-o'clock crime was half answered by The Shadow. But in giving half an answer, the investigator who posed as Cranston, was making it plain that the rest had not been learned. The Shadow's regret - that Margo hadn't followed the armored truck - was real, even though he, himself, had taken her off the trail. Until the owner of the former Star of Delhi was discovered, the reason for Walder's death would remain unanswered. Watching the gaze of Cranston's eyes, Margo could tell that they were visualizing the six sapphires that he had viewed that afternoon.
No longer bait for criminals, those missing gems had become the object of The Shadow's next quest!
CHAPTER V. CREEPS IN THE DARK
SEATED in his study, Armand Lenfell was resting his folded arms upon the desk, listening intently for sounds from outside the room. Beside him lay a stack of newspapers, the accumulation of three days.
They showed glaring headlines that concerned the attempted robbery which had resulted in the sudden death of Raymond Walder.
A wince showed on Lenfell's lips, as his eyes drifted to the newspapers. When alone, Lenfell always let his real opinions register themselves upon his face. It was plain that he not only regretted Walder's death, but felt anxious regarding its possible consequences to himself. Lenfell's expression lost none of its troubled air while he was noting the most recent headlines.
A sound brought Lenfell from his reverie. It was the one that he expected, a creeping through the hallway. Not merely a cautious tread like those that had roused Walder's imagination on the night of the jeweler's visit to Lenfell's house, but a creak that was actually ominous. The creeping carried its echoes along the hall, making it impossible for Lenfell to estimate the exact distance of the approaching visitor.
Indeed, Lenfell's eyes were still half closed, his full attention concentrated upon listening to the crawling footsteps, when the door of the room opened as if at its own accord.
Popping upright in his chair, Lenfell stared at the gaping door as though expecting it to devour him. In the dimness of the hall he saw a whitish face that seemed floating there, until Lenfell recognized it. It was his familiarity with the smiling countenance that brought the financier to his senses, making him realize that the face in the doorway had a body attached.
Lenfell sank back in his chair, tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.
The man from the hallway entered. He came with a pace that was a cross between a shuffle and tip- toe.
His face, as it neared the desk, underwent a variety of changes, due largely to the angles from which the light struck it, for the man, himself, did not outwardly alter his demeanor.
From a white blur, with a slitted smile, the face became a withery, lipless visage spread in a fangish leer.
Still nearer the desk, it caught a more flattering light, and lost its venom.
Lenfell's visitor was dryish-faced, rather than withery. He had lips, when one was close enough to observe them. As for teeth, they were prominent, but not ugly when studied in proper proportion to the rest of his face. Indeed, his smile was friendly, though with a cunning touch that Lenfell, no longer perturbed, could appreciate as belonging to a man of his own likes and ambitions.
The visitor's odd gait accounted, of course, for the echoing creeps that had so deceived Lenfell, even in his own preserves. But it only certified the man as one worthy of Lenfell's confidence. Furthermore, the visitor's thin white hair marked him as elderly, and therefore lacking any physical superiority over Lenfell.
Keenly, the white-haired man's shrewd gaze went from Lenfell to the newspapers and back again. The visitor spoke with slight traces of a rattly wheeze; otherwise, his tone was mild and kindly.
'Still brooding over Walder?' he queried. 'Come, come, my friend! You can in no wise be held to blame for his death.'
'Why not?' returned Lenfell. 'I gave him the sapphires -'
The old man interposed a laugh. He tilted his head as he did, and his merriment was genuine, though its rattly wheeze carried too much of the macabre for Lenfell to join in it. Then, lowering his eyes, the old man let them glisten steadily upon Lenfell.
'You gave him what he thought were sapphires,' the visitor corrected. 'The synthetic gems which I, Jan Garmath, manufactured in my crucible. Not imitations of existing gems' - Garmath smiled proudly - 'but conceptions of what the Star of Delhi would look like if divided into sixes.'
Lenfell nodded. Then:
'At any rate,' he said, 'I gave Walder gems that passed as the sapphires and made him the target for crime and death.'
'Through no blame of yours,' argued Garmath. 'According to those newspapers' - he waved a long hand toward the desk - 'the murderers were after Walder's own jewels, not your sapphires. The police have not even pushed the case far enough to seek the owner of the former Star of Delhi.'
GARMATH'S reassurance restored Lenfell's composure. Catching the contagion of the old man's grin, Lenfell rose from his desk and turned to the safe. It was already unlocked; he opened the door and brought out two jewel cases - a long one, and a square one. He placed them on the desk and opened them.
Set in a row within the long case were the six sapphires that had been exhibited at Walder's. From the square box gleamed the famous Star of Delhi, as large and as radiant as when Walder had first viewed it.
So like the great gem were the smaller ones, that the eye could almost identify them as one and the same.
'A marvelous job, Garmath,' commended Lenfell. 'I doubt that any cutter, even Sherbrock, could have produced as fine a resemblance as you have with these synthetics. They will please my friends when they arrive.'
Sounds from somewhere in the hall below caused Lenfell to remember that his friends were almost due.
Hurriedly, he closed the case that contained the great Star and replaced it in the safe, spinning the combination dial.
Then, taking the longer case with its six rings, he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He was going to the library, to meet the first of his hooded associates.
Immediately, Jan Garmath rose from his chair and approached the door. Opening it a crack, he listened, caught the sound of voices. Then, with his creepy stride, Garmath moved toward the library, but no longer were his
