The Shadow - Death Turrets Part 12

"So do I," spoke George. "The sooner the better."

Augusta Merrith gave an audible "Humph!" that made George look in her direction. The elderly woman glared at George, without trying to hide her suspicion.

George smiled. He let his eyes glance upward, to compare the glowering moose head with the face of Aunt Augusta.

Kent Allard's gaze was fixed upon George Brendaw. Keen eyes observed the young man's expression. George seemed quite unconcerned regarding the future.

He acted as if he had no idea that his fellow-suspect, Lenley, lay dead in the cellar laboratory.

That discovery would be coming soon.

Until then, The Shadow waited.

CHAPTER XVIII.

MURDER REVEALED.

IT was nearly half past nine when the sheriff arrived. He came in a sedan, bringing three other men with him. One was the coroner; another, the county prosecutor. George Brendaw recognized both and greeted them, but the third of the sheriff's companions was a stranger.

Cravlen simply introduced him as Mr. Wright. George looked at Wright suspiciously, and decided that the man was not a reporter. Wright didn't have the appearance of a newspaper man.

Allard's eyes were watching George's expression keenly. The Shadowsensed what was in the young man's mind. The proof of it came after George had decided that Wright was welcome. His thoughts still on reporters, George asked the sheriff: "What about that chap Burke? Where is he?"

"Still in town," replied Cravlen, gruffly. "He didn't seem to like it here at Five Towers. Apparently, he wasn't welcome."

George's fists tightened.

"I'll admit I wasn't glad when Burke showed up," he told Cravlen. "But if you're insinuating that I had anything to do with those rifle shots, you're a mile wrong!"

The sheriff shook his head.

"No insinuations at all, Brendaw," he declared. "We haven't found the rifle yet. What's more"-Cravlen laughed indulgently-"the shots were meant for me, not Burke.

"But if you're willing"-the sheriff's tone was earnest-"I'd like to bring Burke up here. I think you owe him an invitation. After all, it's your house."

George smiled. He liked the way that Cravlen talked. He thought that the sheriff was becoming more reasonable; anxious for cooperation, rather than challenge. It was Allard who saw through Cravlen's disarming manner, observing much that George missed.

The sheriff was ready to spring a surprise. During his hours down in Northridge, he had been busy fitting evidence. The stranger, Wright, had been brought here for some purpose. There was a reason, too, why Cravlen wanted Clyde Burke to come.

However shrewd George Brendaw might have been in the past, he did not outwit Cravlen on this occasion. George told the sheriff that he could call the courthouse and invite Clyde up to Five Towers. Cravlen made the telephone call, and returned to state: "Burke hadn't come in when we left. He's there now, though, and he's coming here in a taxi."

Cravlen was repressing a satisfied smile. The Shadow knew that Clyde must have mentioned pleasing news over the telephone. The sheriff seemed content to wait until the reporter arrived.

SINCE there was to be an interval, George Brendaw played the host in his usual polite manner.

"Coffee, t.i.tus," he told the servant. Then, with a smile toward Lucille: "Tea, of course, for Miss Merrith."

"Just a moment," interrupted Cravlen. "Where is Lenley?"

"Down in the laboratory," replied George. "He's been there ever since you telephoned."

The sheriff turned to t.i.tus.

"Summon Lenley," he ordered, briskly. "You can make the coffee afterward."

As soon as t.i.tus had gone, Cravlen faced George. For the first time, the sheriff was showing the hard-boiled manner that was part of his usual personality.

"Spades are spades," a.s.serted Cravlen. "That's going to be the rule here, Brendaw. It's come to a showdown, and I thought you ought to know it."

"You mean between me and Bob Lenley?"

"That's it, Brendaw. One or the other of you is putting up a big bluff.

It's got to end to-night. I'm going to be tough with the fellow who's guilty, but the innocent man can consider me his best friend.

"Whoever is innocent-you or Lenley-can rest sure that I won't let the other fellow frame him. I'm telling that to you, and I'll give the same story to Lenley, as soon as he joins us."

t.i.tus returned. The servant's face was worried. Allard was not the only person who noticed it. t.i.tus had been stolid lately, ever since suspicion had been removed from him. But he no longer looked confident. It was with aneffort that he spoke to Cravlen.

"I'm afraid something is wrong, sheriff," stated t.i.tus. "Mr. Lenley doesn't answer. But he must be in the laboratory. I'm sure of that!"

"What makes you sure?" snapped Cravlen.

"I could see the light under the door," replied t.i.tus. "But the door was locked. The way it was when I talked to Mr. Lenley before. But there was something else, sir-"

t.i.tus hesitated. His puzzled eyes looked toward George. Allard could see a gleam of suspicion in the servant's eyes. t.i.tus turned again to Cravlen.

"The motor must have been running," said the servant. "I could smell gas that came out under the door. But the motor is stopped. Mr. Lenley should surely have heard me when I knocked."

Cravlen was on his feet. He gestured to his companions.

"Come along," ordered the sheriff. "We're going down there. I want you with us, Allard, and we're taking you, too, Brendaw. We'll find out what's happened to Lenley."

WHEN they reached the laboratory, Cravlen pounded heavily on the locked door. Receiving no answer, he decided to smash the portal.

t.i.tus brought a hatchet that was used for chopping kindling. Cravlen hacked an opening above the doork.n.o.b. Reaching through, the sheriff found the key and turned it.

The moment that Cravlen opened the door, fumes issued forth. Seeing Lenley sprawled by the motor, the sheriff ordered every one back. Grimly, he drew his revolver from his holster. He gave a glance toward George.

"n.o.body moves until I give the word," snapped Cravlen. "That room's full of motor gas! We'll wait until it clears. It's got the whole cellar to absorb it."

At the end of five minutes, Cravlen entered the laboratory and beckoned the others to follow. He arrived beside Lenley's body, and shook his head when he saw the bulge of the bearded man's eyes.

"Gas, all right," decided Cravlen. "Look at that exhaust pipe, ripped loose! Well, Brendaw"-he turned and thrust out his hand to George-"I guess this clears you. Lenley couldn't stand the gaff. He took suicide as the only way out."

George's face was solemn.

"Poor Bob," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't feel that way about it, but I did like the fellow. Why he went in for murder is something I cannot understand."

George turned to t.i.tus.

"You can go upstairs," he told the servant. "Get the coffee ready. We'll need it, after this. You can tell Miss Lucille about Bob's suicide. And perhaps"-George's tone was bitter-"perhaps the news will interest her aunt, also. She may realize that she placed too much confidence in Lenley."

t.i.tus started away. Sheriff Cravlen called after him.

"When Burke comes, send him down here!"

The next few minutes were given to the coroner. Methodically, that official made a survey of the scene, voicing his conclusions as he went along.

Suicide seemed the obvious verdict. A locked door; Lenley alone in the laboratory; death from the fumes of a running motor that he could have stopped whenever he chose.

This case was totally unlike the murders of Roderick Talroy and Rufus Fant. There, a murderer had found opportunity. Here, it seemed certain, only one man could have arranged death. That man was Lenley himself.

IT was not until the coroner made a careful examination of the body that he found a flaw in the suicide theory. Turning Lenley's head, the coroner noticed that the lower side was blood-streaked. He beckoned to the prosecutor and the sheriff.

"That looks like somebody slugged Lenley!" exclaimed Cravlen. "Hecouldn't have given himself a wallop on the side of the skull. How do you account for it?"

It was George who provided the answer. He pointed to the motor on the table with the comment: "Maybe Lenley struck it when he fell."

Sheriff Cravlen nodded. The explanation was plausible. He began to examine the top of the motor, moving along until he reached the end of the table nearest to the door. Cravlen shook his head.

"Nothing here." He looked along the table. "Say, coroner; take a look at that monkey wrench."

The coroner did. His eyes widened as he showed the wrench to the prosecutor. On the under side of the wrench was a clump of Lenley's hair, with a splash of blood.

Excitedly, the coroner brought the wrench to the sheriff. Allard saw the tightness that came to Cravlen's lips. A moment later, the sheriff swung to George.

"You'll tell me next," spoke Cravlen, "that Lenley slugged himself with this wrench."

"He must have," insisted George. "There's no other way it could have happened. Lenley was alone in here, with the door locked. Maybe he didn't have nerve enough to face the gas."

The sheriff snorted.

"Do you know how carbon monoxide works?" he demanded. "You don't even feel it until it gets you. It's the easiest kind of death to take. If a man didn't have the nerve to stay with it, he wouldn't show guts enough to crack himself over the head with a monkey wrench.

"You're wrong, Brendaw. One hundred per cent wrong! Somebody came in here and clipped Lenley. How the fellow got in and out again-that's what we've got to learn. We'll find the answer to it, though-"

There were footsteps from the cellar. The sheriff turned to see Clyde Burke. There was one person, however, who gazed toward the door sooner than Cravlen. That person was Kent Allard.

His eyes were the first to meet Clyde's.

Instructions from The Shadow had told Clyde to rely upon Allard. Clyde was looking at Allard when Cravlen spoke. The reporter heard the sheriff's question: "Did you learn anything, Burke? About this house?"

There was sudden understanding in Allard's eyes. Clyde saw Allard give an almost imperceptible nod. It meant that Clyde was to give the answer that the sheriff wanted, but to reserve other information for The Shadow.

"Yes." Clyde pulled some papers from his pocket as he spoke. "Here are some old plans of Five Towers. Take a look at them, sheriff."

GEORGE BRENDAW stared in strained fashion as he saw the sheriff look at the plans. They were faded, but they showed no special features at first glance.

It was when the sheriff came to the plan of the cellar that his lips voiced a sudden exclamation.

"This laboratory!" expressed Cravlen. "It was put here lately. Look!

It's shorter than it should be!"

Cravlen still held the monkey wrench. Wheeling, he looked toward the rear wall, then made a bound in that direction. With a terrific stroke, he drove the wrench against the panel. Wood splintered, to show a gaping s.p.a.ce beyond.

"That's where the murderer came through!" shouted the sheriff. "He came in here and slugged Lenley with this monkey wrench!"

Cravlen was waving the wrench, approaching George with it. His fierceness seemed a threat. It brought a reaction from George. Losing his head, the young man made a grab for the wrench, to s.n.a.t.c.h it from the sheriff's hand.Letting the wrench go, Cravlen whipped quickly away, to yank his gun.

George was swinging the wrench, but the sheriff was due to loose bullets from his .38 before the stroke came. Only half a second remained; in that brief period Kent Allard intervened.

His tall form flung itself between the desperate sheriff and the man whom he sought to slay. With one hand, Allard caught George's fist, to twist away the heavy monkey wrench. His other hand clamped Cravlen's gun wrist, gave it a quick bend upward.

The sheriff's revolver roared; its bullet sizzled past Allard's ear. The monkey wrench scaled to the floor, but George's surge did not stop. He bowled Allard squarely upon Cravlen. The three sprawled to the floor beside the broken panel.

As Cravlen tried to aim his gun, George made a grab for it. Again, Allard's action ended a coming duel.

A long-fingered hand took the gun from the fists that gripped it. The same hand flung the .38 across the floor, where Clyde Burke s.n.a.t.c.hed it. Out of the three-cornered brawl, Allard flung George squarely into the arms of the coroner and the prosecutor. They pinned him, while Clyde aimed the revolver.

George subsided without further struggle.

Allard helped Cravlen to his feet. Red-faced, the sheriff spoke his thanks.

"Good work, Allard!" he blurted. "I'd have had to shoot Brendaw if it hadn't been for you. You're the man who will get the credit for taking him alive."

Seeing that George was helpless, Cravlen coolly received his revolver from Clyde. Thrusting the weapon into its holster, the sheriff made a stern announcement in the name of the law.

"George Brendaw, I arrest you, on the charge of murder!"

GEORGE received the accusation with fixed gaze. Jaw thrust out, he silently defied the sheriff to prove his statement. One thing was sure; George Brendaw intended to make no admission of guilt. The law would have to build its own case against him.

Just how Sheriff Cravlen intended to go at that task was still a question. But whether or not his evidence proved sufficient to condemn George Brendaw, it would still be incomplete.

Only The Shadow could reveal the full truth of murder at Five Towers, without the aid of the killer's own confession.

CHAPTER XIX.