The Shadow - The Key Part 14

"What brought you here?" demanded Weston, turning to Tharxell.

"I called just after ten," replied the lawyer. "Howland told me he would awaken Mr. Markin. Then the call was interrupted. I heard shouts across the wire. I came here at once."

"That's right," said Cardona.

"I found the receiver off the hook when I went to call you, commissioner," said a detective. "I had to juggle to get the operator. The receiver's on now."

"One minute, commissioner," a.s.serted Cardona. "I heard that telephone call. It clears both of these men from suspicion. The fellow who clamped this machine on the gas-log intended to kill Mr. Markin. The clock is set for ten. All the murderer had to do was leave it. In the morning, we'd have found Mr. Markin dead."

"Go on-"

"Well, Tharxell called up right after ten o'clock. He wanted to talk to Markin. If Tharxell had set this device, he wouldn't have called up, would he?" "Mr. Markin expected me to call tomorrow," put in Tharxell. "I happened to get through with Stevenson early-"

"That's right," interrupted Weston. "We heard it over the dictograph. Proceed, Cardona."

"Howland here," resumed Cardona, "told Tharxell over the phone that Mr. Markin was asleep. He could easily have insisted that Tharxell hold the call until morning, like he was supposed to do. Instead, he went to rouse Mr. Markin.

"What's more, I don't think Howland was in the living room alone at any time. He helped me plant the dictograph here by the door. More than that, while we were looking for places, we happened to take a look at that fire place in the bedroom. This gimmick"-Cardona raised the mechanism as he spoke-"wasn't there at seven o'clock. I'd have seen it if it had been."

"Which leaves us one man," announced Weston, sternly. "Lester Dorrington. Was he alone in the living room?"

"Yes," rejoined Cardona. "When Mr. Markin came to get the key-"

"That's it!" cried Weston. "The fellow was too bold for once. He thought he was alone with Markin. He didn't know that we were listening in. Well, Markin"-the commissioner turned to the old attorney-"I'm sorry that this happened. But you've pulled through it - a few minutes of gas didn't hurt you. You're lucky; and what's more, we're lucky."

Seizing the mechanism from Cardona's hand, Weston held it before the eyes of all. The commissioner was impressive as he spoke.

"We're going to Dorrington's with this!" decided Weston. "This is the time the fox will answer questions.

Here is the evidence of crime. Come, Cardona; we will take the witnesses with us to Dorrington's home!"

Five minutes later, Weston and his companions had departed from the house. A light had been left on in the hall. It revealed the figure of The Shadow, coming from the stairs. The phantom shape merged with the darkness of the study.

A dial clicked a number on the telephone. Then came an eerie, whispered voice. The Shadow, speaking to Burbank, was giving orders to the contact man. The black-cloaked master was planning his own climax for the scene to come at Dorrington's.

CHAPTER XX. ATTORNEYS SPEAK.

"STATE your case, Markin."

Commissioner Weston was the speaker. He was the central figure in a group that occupied the study of Lester Dorrington's Long Island home. Weston had taken the chair behind the lawyer's desk. On his right front sat Kelwood Markin; on the left, Lester Dorrington himself.

Joe Cardona was on guard at the central door, directly opposite Weston. Tharxell and Howland were seated in a corner. The study, a paneled room with luxurious furnishings, had been turned into an inquisition chamber.

"There lies the evidence." Kelwood Markin pointed emphatically toward the desk, on which lay the mechanism found in the old man's fire place. "It proves that an attempt was made upon my life. "I am a lawyer who was approached by a client of Lester Dorrington's, namely, Rufus Gilwood. I was given the key to a safe deposit box that presumably contained funds for distribution. That box was empty after Gilwood's death.

"Three lawyers have been murdered. Verbeck, Durton, Keith-their deaths indicate that they, like myself, were approached by clients of Lester Dorrington. We have even decided upon the particular clients in question. You, commissioner, hold the threaded facts in this astounding case.

"I affirm that Torrence Dilgin, who died in Rio de Janeiro, was the last of the clients whom Dorrington swindled. I believe that Dilgin tried to speak before he died-to name Verbeck as the man who held his key. I believe that Edwin Berlett, returning to America, was murdered before the other victims.

"Lester Dorrington is a master schemer. He sent his clients to different lawyers, each with a key to a safe deposit box. Dorrington robbed those boxes. I, like the other lawyers, was duped. In Dilgin's case, however, Dorrington feared exposure, because of the notoriety which involved the death of Edwin Berlett.

"Forced to slay Hugo Verbeck, he decided to continue. He used a gangleader, Whitey Calban, to do his dirty work. When Calban was killed, he had no other agent. He was forced to use measures of his own to do away with me. We know that Dorrington must have placed the mechanism in my fire place. I demand his arrest. I state the charge. Murder!"

GRIM silence succeeded. Lester Dorrington had not flinched. Virtually a prisoner, he seemed waiting for Kelwood Markin to be done. After the tense pause, he turned to Weston.

"You may speak," ordained the commissioner.

"These facts are interesting," announced Dorrington, in an easy tone. "They bring out points that had previously puzzled me. Kelwood Markin is right. There is a master schemer who has designed death. A crooked lawyer swindled millionaires by robbing their safe deposit boxes and letting other attorneys be the dupes."

Howland was taking down the statement in shorthand. Dorrington did not appear to be perturbed. He paused impressively; then resumed.

"The crook was evidently a remarkable schemer," declared Dorrington. "Our friend Markin has reasoned well; but his chain of thought ceases too abruptly. Let us picture this human spider, spinning his web. He chose innocent lawyers to whom he sent millionaires. But he did not stop there.

"He foresaw the danger of exposure. He feared that the men who held the keys might testify against him.

So he went further than Markin has stated. He was too wise to handle the estates of the millionaires whom he swindled. He gave them advice; they followed it. He sent each of them to a different man so far as the keys were concerned; but he sent all of them to the same lawyer to handle their estates!"

Profound silence greeted this persuasive sally. Dorrington's cold logic was a refutation to Markin's accusations. The criminal lawyer proceeded with his case.

"I was the attorney whom the schemer picked to make out the wills. I, too, was approached by clients whom I did not expect. I, an attorney who handled criminal cases, was amazed when such men as Parkinson Watts, Hector Mell, and Torrence Dilgin came to me regarding their wills.

"I knew that some one must have sent them. I could not place the man. They gave me no information. So I accepted their fat fees and felt grateful. But all the while I was looking for a game. I was trying to findthe hidden lawyer who stood behind the scheme.

"Torrence Dilgin died suddenly in Rio. Then came murders in New York. Ace Feldon told me that Whitey Calban was spreading my name among gorillas. I realized that the slain lawyers might be concerned somehow with the mysterious estates. Knowing nothing of the safe deposit boxes, I could not fathom the actual game. I appreciated but one important fact: namely, that my own safety was in danger.

"I was to be the goat for murder. I handled my cards as best I could. I had my suspicions, but my story, should I tell it, would have seemed more astounding than Markin's. All the while that I have been maintaining silence, I have been looking for the real crook in the game."

AGAIN, Dorrington paused. This time, he looked from man to man and finally steadied his gaze upon the commissioner. He put a question to Weston.

"May I count," he asked, "upon no interruptions, no matter how absurd my story may seem at its beginning?"

"Yes," came the a.s.surance.

"Very well." Keenness showed on Dorrington's cadaverous countenance. "I wondered until recently why Torrence Dilgin had made me attorney for his estate. Dilgin already had the services of a competent corporation lawyer, namely, Edwin Berlett.

"When the Dilgin Corporation sent Berlett to Rio, he did not seem pleased with the a.s.signment. I called upon an ex-stool pigeon- Squeezer Tifkin, to whom I had been of service-to make sure that Berlett actually departed on his plane.

"Berlett went to Rio. Then came the news of Dilgin's death; following it, the report of Berlett's a.s.sa.s.sination and the burial of Dilgin's body at sea. The two occurrences made me think. A boatload of pa.s.sengers saw the lowering of Dilgin's coffin, but not one had seen the South American killers throw Edwin Berlett overboard.

"Sigler, old Dilgin's secretary, was slain in the fight that was supposed to have spelled the end of Edwin Berlett. I saw an answer. Sigler may have known too much. Maybe he was the man the killers sought to slay. Who hired the killers? I knew the answer. Edwin Berlett!"

Gasps came from about the room. There was logic in Dorrington's revelation. None could deny it. The smooth-talking lawyer, however, had not yet finished. Wagging an emphatic finger, Dorrington declared: "Edwin Berlett never left Pernambuco. I was sure of it. I knew that he was crooked, even though I did not know his exact scheme. When murders began, I felt that he was in back of them. I was sure that he had arranged crime before leaving New York.

"Following my theory, I had Squeezer on the job, watching planes that came in from the South. One night, Squeezer came back to Manhattan because a plane was overdue. He went out to the airport later, but too late. The pa.s.sengers had landed. Nevertheless, he found names and listings. He learned that a pa.s.senger calling himself Edmund Talbot had gone to the Hotel Goliath.

"Squeezer watched the hotel lobby. He caught a glimpse of this Talbot. He recognized the man as Edwin Berlett. To-night, Berlett left the hotel. Squeezer lost his trail. Berlett has not yet returned; but I am positive that he will be back. I had not intended to inform the police of Berlett's presence in New York, until I was sure that the man was performing crime. To-night was the first time that he was at large.

"Under present circ.u.mstances, however, I am forced to release my accusation. I agree with KelwoodMarkin. An insidious crook swindled millionaires and made attorneys his helpless dupes. My plea is this: I am the greatest dupe of all. To offset that, I have named the murderer. Edwin Berlett."

COMMISSIONER WESTON sat as stolid as a statue. Not a breath stirred within the paneled room.

Berlett's own actions, particularly his pretended death aboard the Southern Star, were damaging accusations. Weston could see that the whole case rested on a single deed: the capture of Berlett himself.

"What's the room at the Hotel Goliath?" demanded the commissioner. "We'll watch the place for Berlett's return. We'll get him and we'll make him talk. Six men, Cardona-"

The commissioner stopped short as a voice came from the side of the room. A door in the paneling had stood ajar. None had noticed it during the past few minutes. That door had opened.

Upon the fringe of the rug stood a stocky man whose eyes were peering from beneath heavy brows. In his hand, the newcomer held a revolver. From the spot where he stood, the muzzle of his gun covered the entire group.

It was Lester Dorrington who announced the man's ident.i.ty. Weston and the others gasped as they realized that for the second time to-night, an accused man faced his accuser. Quivering, his calmness gone, Dorrington blurted forth the name: "Edwin Berlett!"

CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW SPEAKS.

"I HAVE heard these accusations," came Berlett's unruffled statement. "In return, I demand that my story shall be heard. Do I have your a.s.surance on that score, commissioner?"

"You-you have," stammered Weston, as he stared into the gun muzzle.

"Very well." Berlett calmly thrust his revolver into his pocket. "I am here to speak, not as a criminal nor as a dupe, but merely as a chance person who can provide the solution to your problems.

"I held nothing against Lester Dorrington in the past. I never approved of him as Torrence Dilgin's personal attorney. I did not send Dilgin to him; nor did I send the other clients. I can see why Dorrington suspected me of so doing, for as a corporation lawyer, I have contacts with many big men of industry.

But Dorrington was wrong.

"All I ever did against Dorrington was to instruct my man Morgan to keep an eye on him while I was in Rio. I doubt that Morgan did so. Morgan is somewhat incompetent. Moreover, he thinks that I am dead."

Preliminaries ended, Berlett resumed with a more steady tone. His voice came without interruption.

Hushed listeners were swayed by the persuasive words of a story that was fully as convincing-despite its incredible features-as those which had been told before.

"In Rio," stated Berlett, "I was present at the death bed of Torrence Dilgin. The old man gasped words about a key. He named the sum of one million dollars. He tried to state the ident.i.ty of a living person. He failed.

"Before leaving Rio, two Brazilians-one an attorney, the other a physician-told me that they feared Torrence Dilgin had been poisoned. They suspected Warren Sigler, the secretary, as the murderer. I decided to feign ignorance. In fact, I did everything I could to make Sigler feel that I was not concerned. "I arranged prompt shipment of the body. I avoided embalming, for I wanted an autopsy when I reached New York. I thought that I could trap Warren Sigler here-not in Brazil-and in that way bring the matter to a rapid head."

BERLETT paused. As he came to the next portion of his story, he seemed to be picturing scenes aboard the Southern Star. At last, he faced the eyes that scanned him.

"In Pernambuco," related Berlett, "I found a note in my cabin. It warned me that Warren Sigler intended to murder me; that thugs were coming aboard the ship, to do their evil work outside the harbor. The note told me how I could avoid death. I was to rouse Sigler's suspicions-the man had never trusted me -by meeting the writer in my cabin. There, I was to discuss Sigler as a murderer.

"I went to the cabin. I met the writer of the note, a man who called himself Carlos Mendoza. Sigler had hidden himself in the cabin - his method was crude-and he overheard all that was said. When the Southern Star left Pernambuco harbor, I went back in the pilot ship. Mendoza had arranged the ruse.

"Sigler and his thugs were beaten in their fight. I came on to New York, by plane, still following Mendoza's instructions. When I arrived at the Hotel Goliath, under the name of Edmund Talbot, I received a call from a man named Burbank, who was evidently an agent of Mendoza.

"Burbank told me all would be well. He had men watching me, to see that I was safe. I knew that Mendoza would somehow arrive in New York. Burbank a.s.sured me of that fact. I knew that Sigler had been in the employ of some swindler who had duped Torrence Dilgin. Therefore, I still needed protection.

"Meanwhile, lawyers were slain-two of them-while my benefactor, Carlos Mendoza, was still aboard the Southern Star. Just before the third death, Burbank informed me that Mendoza had reached New York; that soon, I would be called upon to play a part in return for the aid that had been given me.

"To-night, the opportunity arrived. Burbank instructed me how to leave the Hotel Goliath. He told me how to avoid pursuers; he even stated that one of Mendoza's men would make sure of my safe departure. He also told me where to go -along a strange path that Carlos Mendoza had arranged for me.

"To-night"-Berlett paused emphatically-"I entered the home of Kelwood Markin, by coming through the trapdoor in the roof. I descended to Markin's living room. I lay behind the curtains of the window. I saw all that took place within that room."

A hush; then a sudden statement from old Kelwood Markin. The gray-haired lawyer was seizing upon Berlett's words to make a new thrust.

"He must have seen Dorrington-"

"Berlett placed the death machine." It was Dorrington who spoke. "This sounds like a confession-"

"Let him speak!" thundered Weston.

"I saw George Tharxell produce that device that lies upon the table," stated Berlett, simply. "I saw him return without it. Lester Dorrington is innocent!"

EYES toward Tharxell. The man was quivering. Edwin Berlett's tones began again.

"Through Carlos Mendoza," declared the third accuser, "I learned the truth concerning crime. Mendoza pieced the riddle. I am but his spokesman; He is the one who saw through the cunning game. "A master schemer planned gigantic swindles. He spoke to millionaires. He showed them how-through his device-they could avoid inheritance taxes. Each gave the schemer a large sum-Dilgin's contribution was a million-and he in turn sent each man to a duped lawyer. Those poor chaps held the keys, to boxes already empty. For the crook kept their money for himself.

"He had the millionaires go to Lester Dorrington as the lawyer to handle their estates. Dorrington knew none of the men who held the keys. Thus conspiracy was avoided. The vicious schemer, however, chose Dorrington with a purpose. He knew that in emergency, he could sign up some killer whom Dorrington had represented-for instance, Whitey Calban-to slay the lawyers who held the keys.

"How was he to protect himself? There lay the deepest measure of his cunning. By naming himself as an extra dupe. By pretending that he, too, had been approached by a wealthy man whose estate had been handled by Lester Dorrington. He, like his victims-Verbeck, Durton, Keith-was ready to hold up a key and cry for pity!"

No name was needed. The accusing words told the final story. All eyes turned toward Kelwood Markin.

The old lawyer's face was purple. With clawlike hands upon the arms of his chair, he was trying to rise while his lips sputtered vain epithets.

"It fits!" exclaimed Dorrington, leaping to his feet. "Berlett is right! Markin never received a key from Rufus Gilwood! I remember now - I had known Gilwood slightly before he came to me to make his will.

He was not one of the mystery clients."

"You did well, Dorrington," commented Berlett, from the door. "Markin failed to pin the murders on you.

That is why he had Tharxell plant the mechanism in the fire place."

"Tharxell called up so we'd stop the gas," broke in Cardona, suddenly. "The game is up, commissioner.