The Shadow - The Shadow Laughs Part 7

It was starlight overhead. Harry's form was visible to the man who was following him. When Harry came to the junction of the road, he took the path straight ahead, instead of turning up the road that woundaround the hill.

The man in back lessened his pace, and allowed a considerable distance between himself and Harry.

There was a good reason for this. There were no by-paths from the road ahead for more than a mile.

The man in back evidently felt that he could allow his quarry a long start. Hence he did not see Harry turn into the field where he had parked his car.

This was a lucky advantage for the unsuspecting agent of The Shadow. Harry worked silently with his wireless, taking considerable time. His pursuer walked completely by him while he was thus engaged.

Five minutes later, Harry Vincent sent a brief report of what he had observed. The report was in a special code, which he knew by heart. Then, with his work over, Harry hurriedly packed the equipment, backed his car out of the field, and turned back toward the farmhouse.

Sound carries far on a still night in the country. The stranger who had followed Harry Vincent was at that moment standing at the crossroad, half a mile down the straight course. He had wondered what had become of the man whom he had followed.

The noise of the distant car, and its lights, gave him the information he required.

For the next hour, a man with a small flashlight made observations along the deserted road, studying the tracks of the coupe, and noting the footprints that Harry Vincent had made in the dust.

CHAPTER X. IN THE FARMHOUSE.

THE conversation which had been cut off from Harry Vincent's hearing continued long after he had gone.

In fact, from the very moment of the interruption, it had a.s.sumed angles of great interest.

Harry had heard only the preliminaries. The real event began when the younger man entered into the details of his story. But there were no listeners in the vicinity when he reached that important point.

"I had to give him the rod," the man said. "All the way down, I knew that would be the only way out.

"I listened in when he made that call from the Grand Central Terminal. I trailed him across New York and got on the same train to Philly. At the Pennsylvania Station.

"He got off at North Philly and took a cab. I hopped another taxi, but dropped off a few blocks away from the boarding house. Then I sneaked over to the place. When I caught Jarnow, he was spilling the dope to Henry Windsor. Those two shots I gave him sounded like a cannon."

"Henry Windsor wasn't wise to anything?" questioned the old man.

"Not a thing," replied the self-admitted murderer. "He was soused. That helped. I came in the door of the house, and up the stairs without a hitch.

"Opening the door of the room was slow work. Jarnow must have put the key in his pocket; so I had luck with the skeleton key. But when he saw me sliding around the edge, closing the door behind me, I thought he was going to drop dead.

"Wish he had. It would have saved me trouble. I guess it was best the way it happened, though. Killed two birds with one stone by planting the goods on Henry."

The old man shook his head."That may have been a mistake, Crull," he said.

"What!" The young man's exclamation showed astonishment. "You wanted him out of the way, didn't you?"

"Of course," came the querulous reply. "It will be great, if he goes to the chair."

"Well, if they acquit him, we're just where we started."

"Granted. But suppose they give him twenty years, or life? Then he'll be where it will be hard to get at him."

"BIRDIE" CRULL was silent. Evidently he had not considered that angle of the situation.

"That would be bad," he said, at length. "But I don't think it will be an in-between affair. The way things are in that town, they'll railroad him, or he'll get off.

"He has money, pull, and he was drunk. Three big factors. They either work for a man or against him.

According to public sentiment.

"The way things are now, public sentiment will be hot. That second job I did has given them plenty to think about."

"Yes, Crull," objected the old man, "and it's given me some worries, too. You went a lot further than I expected. I told you to flag Frank Jarnow, and to bring back that paper."

"All right. I did it. There was only one way to fix him when I got there. I did it."

"Yes. But you also planted the goods on Henry Windsor, which we had not considered."

"I had to do it! It let me out. Where would any of us be if I hadn't?"

"Maybe you're right, there, Crull. Yes. You are right. It took all the mystery out of the affair. That was a good piece of business.

"It may cause difficulties in our plans, but it certainly kept matters quiet. But this Griffith business-"

"Was every bit as important," interrupted Birdie Crull. "That fellow was keen. I've heard a lot about him.

That's why I stayed in town-to see if he was going on the case.

"I called up headquarters in the morning, and asked for him. Learned when he was coming in. Went up by the house, and saw him come out. When he headed for the morgue, I had to go ahead with it."

"You have plenty of nerve, Crull," said the old man, with a tone of admiration. "You are the man I have needed for a long time. If I had had you that last time-well, let's talk about this. You believe it was necessary to finish Griffith?"

In reply, the murderer drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. He spread it on the table and fitted a tiny corner into it.

"Here's your precious doc.u.ment," he said. "Jarnow had a grip on it. The corner came off."

"You picked up the missing corner?"

"Yes-the next day! Who do you think had it?""Who?"

"Griffith!"

The old man's lips became firm.

"You did the right thing, Crull," he said. "That has the end of the signature on it. Do you think Griffith knew what it was?"

"If he didn't, he would have found out. He was a wise one, all right. But close-mouthed. Whatever theory he had, died with him. The dumb cluck that was on the case fell for the idea that Henry Windsor killed Jarnow. So we're safe now."

The old man thought a moment before he replied. He was looking hard at the table, long fingers of one hand stretched out for inspection.

"On that, yes," he said. "But not on Griffith!"

"Why not? Suppose I had croaked Jarnow, with no chance to lay it on any one? We'd still have a murder mystery hanging over us, wouldn't we?"

"But Griffith being killed so soon afterward-"

"That fixes it right for us. There were plenty of other cases more important to Griffith than this one. The newspapers don't connect the two at all. The bulls in Philly are still rounding up the local small fry."

"Do you think Blair Windsor does?"

"No. Do you know what I believe? I have a hunch he lays the Jarnow murder to Henry Windsor."

"He ought to know his brother well enough not to think that."

"Perhaps. But you know I framed a smooth alibi before I left here, and we kept it between ourselves, even though we might have let others in on it."

"Jerry might suspect it."

"Yes-for that matter we might have let the whole crew know. But I don't think Jerry knows why I went away. He wouldn't have heard of either murder-he doesn't read the papers.

"n.o.body but you and I know that he went up to the White Mountains, and mailed those postals that I had."

"It worked out nicely, all right," said the old man. "You put them in a safe place?"

"Right in Blair Windsor's desk. You know they were all picture post cards. I'd been planning that trip. I bought the cards in Boston. Each card came from the right place-postmark tells the time-my own writing and signature."

"Everybody has seen them?"

"Vernon has. Of course, he's sure to help in a pinch. Harper and Quinn are both staying at the house.

Blair Windsor didn't leave until after the first cards arrived."

"When do you expect he'll be back?""To-morrow, anyway. He was gone when I got back. Down to help Brother Henry out of the jam."

Birdie Crull finished his statement with a laugh.

"Well," said the old man, "it doesn't look bad-not bad at all."

"The only hitch," replied Crull, "is this stunt of Blair Windsor's of inviting so many people to the house.

With so many guests, there's always danger."

"I don't agree with you," the old man answered. "I'm glad he does it. He invites any chance acquaintance.

That was the way you got up here.

"It makes everything perfect for operations. Especially as he keeps booze out of the place. The more guests, and the better their reputation, the finer things are."

"How about Jarnow?"

"Well, that was bad. But things have been pulled here for a long while, and that's the first time anything went wrong. It was your fault, too, Crull. He followed you over here."

"I know it. That's why I was careful about coming over this time."

"Why don't you use the undercut?"

Birdie Crull shook his head.

"I don't like it," he said. "It's all right for Vernon. He belongs in the house; but I'm a guest-"

"You had better use it some of the time. You ought to have plenty of opportunities to get away. But it's bad to come over the hill."

"All right. I'll follow your advice. I'll go back that way, to-night."

"Good. I know it's difficult for you, Crull. Our situation is just this: "Blair Windsor is a successful business man. He is an outstanding figure in this district, as well as in Boston. His friends and acquaintances are the best. He pays no attention to what is going on -neither do his friends. Jarnow was the first who wised up to anything.

"We must keep everything within the proper bounds. I thought it was wise to work you in up here. You are a valuable man. Of course we had trouble with Jarnow. Now, with two kills to your credit, you are something of a liability."

"But suppose that Jarnow had seen something if I hadn't been here-"

"I was coming to that. When I came up here to stay, I saw that danger immediately. We needed a man of action. Pedro wouldn't do. I didn't bring him.

"You were the man, and I found you, through Bronson. Old Tiger did me a good turn when he sent you my way. After all, every one of us is playing with dynamite; so you might as well be with us. You know how to handle dynamite."

BIRDIE CRULL grinned at the compliments. There was a knock on the door. The old man thrust the paper into the drawer of the bureau."What is it, Jerry?" he asked.

The door opened. A rough-clad man entered. He was heavy-set, and would have pa.s.sed for a native of the district.

A close observer might have detected that he was a man from Manhattan.

"We'll have dinner in a few minutes," said Jerry. "Here's a letter I picked up to-day."

The old man looked at the envelope. It was addressed to J. Stevens, care of general delivery in a town some miles away.

"From Bronson," he said. "All right, Jerry, you may leave."

He opened the letter. As he read it, his face paled momentarily; then it reddened, became grim, and settled. Finally the old man laughed, sneeringly.

Birdie Crull wondered at his varied emotions. Usually the old man was impa.s.sive.

"We are all playing with dynamite," said the old man. "This proves it. It concerns you, as well as myself, Crull.

"There is only one being who has ever annihilated my plans. Only one who has ever defeated Isaac Coffran. He is-"

The old man hesitated before p.r.o.nouncing the name. Birdie Crull listened tensely.