"With Scorpio's innocence now proven," spoke The Shadow, "my task was to pick the guilty man from others. Scorpio's innocence was proven, from the very start. Facts told that he was not the murderer of Drury."
Rundon's eyes actually bulged, as he heard the revelation that proved The Shadow's early knowledge.
"Clever of you, Rundon," declared The Shadow, "to seek the death of a troublesome Mr. Cranston.
Clever, too, to willingly sacrifice the life of Lois Melvin, the girl you claimed to love, in order to strengthen your own alibi."
"But you forgot another passenger on board that ship: Edward Barcla. You knew that Barcla was Scorpio's accomplice; but it did not occur to you that Barcla would logically have cut adrift from Scorpio had the professor tried to wreck the plane."
It was now occurring to Rundon, as he listened; but the idea came too late. The sheriff gave an understanding grunt, that carried self-reproach. He realized that Scorpio never could have explained the episode satisfactorily to Barcla.
Both the professor and his star accomplice knew that someone else had been behind the thing; in all probability they had suspected Rundon, but kept it to themselves.
There were others who heard The Shadow's denouncement. Harry Vincent and Howard Carradon had arrived in the hallway, bringing Lois Melvin along. She was the person that they had pursued outside the bungalow. Her camping clothes formed her present attire; they were torn from her climb over the pickets.
The Shadow's words were continuing to hold his listeners spellbound. Briefly, he was tracing the circumstances which showed how simple crime had been, though seemingly complex.
Scorpio had been deep in the spook racket. He had bribed many servants, had tricked up many houses, for his séances. In so doing, he had made himself a perfect target for a schemer more clever than himself: Niles Rundon.
Going in for crime in a big way, Rundon had bought out a few of Scorpio's most capable tools, to work with his hidden crew. He had assembled the mystery boat, its plans stolen from a crazed inventor, to insure his criminal success.
The Shadow revealed the strongest part of Rundon's game. It was his trick of staging crime only on the nights when Scorpio gave séances. Rundon was throwing suspicion upon a man who could not stave it off, considering that Scorpio, himself, was engaged in an illegitimate racket!
Earlier robberies had been simple. At Paula Lodi's, where quick action was needed, Rundon and a few others of his band had stripped the jewels from the actress, sending the swag out by the veranda door while everyone was after the ghost.
A daring thing, yet it had made it very bad for Scorpio and Barcla. To cover their game, the fleeing crooks had been forced to carry Carradon along; for he had seen the lake monster, harbored in the boathouse, and had recognized it as a water craft of sorts.
"You were prepared for that, Rundon," accused The Shadow. "Even your own men did not know that you were the man behind crime. Some of them, like Rufus, actually believed that they were working for Scorpio. You encouraged the idea, by using horoscopes to send your secret messages.
"They followed form when they abducted you outside your own cabin, for you saw the mystery ship, too, though Lois did not. But you thought of everything, Rundon"-there was an ironic touch in The Shadow's sinister laugh-"even to concealing keys in the cells beneath Indian Rock!"
THAT was one that amazed Carradon and Harry. They realized that they, as fellow prisoners, had testified that Rundon was with them on the night when Grendale's stocks were stolen.
It was a robbery that only Rundon could have managed, as Harry suddenly understood. The Shadow came to that event, disclosed it as a duel of wits between Scorpio and Rundon.
"Scorpio knew you were working up an alibi," The Shadow told Rundon. "To ruin it, he told Barcla to impersonate you at the séance. Should you return, later, alive, it would have made matters very hard to explain.
"You met that one, Rundon, by coming in person. You were the ghost that entered; you knew the combination of Grendale's safe, as many of his friends did, and robbed it during your brief intermission of disappearance."
From the doorway, Lois could not suppress an ejaculation:
"But I didn't think the ghost was Niles! He failed to answer my question."
"Because he was purposely bungling his impersonation of himself." explained The Shadow. "His men had already captured Barcla, and were prepared to throw him into the path of guns. Rundon wanted Barcla to take the whole blame-as Barcla did."
There was mockery in The Shadow's final words, telling that he had divined the twofold game. Harry remembered the talk of two ghosts on that night outside of Grendale's. There had actually been two, but one had made a getaway.
Rundon had reached a hidden speedboat, the one that had led a false chase to the cove, when others pursued the lake monster.
The Shadow turned an almost sorrowful gaze toward Scorpio's body. The dead man was a rascal; in a measure, he had furthered murder by continuing his secret duel with Rundon. The death of Scorpio was no loss to humanity; still, Scorpio deserved credit for the scheme whereby he had later aided the trapping of Rundon.
While The Shadow had been looking for a way to put full blame on Rundon, Scorpio had returned to Lake Calada as Percy Claremont. He had actually shaved his beard, as he had evidently done often before, to pay one of his occasional Claremont visits.
Scorpio had brought the money as bait for Rundon. He was confident that Rundon did not know Claremont's other identity. Only The Shadow divined it; perhaps because he had never met Claremont before and had been solely on the outlook for Scorpio. The disguise had been almost perfect, the trap excellent.
As Claremont, Scorpio had expected to down Rundon with his cane and expose him as a crook. Later, the withered Mr. Claremont could have returned as Professor Scorpio. But Rundon had won the physical duel, stabbing home shots as he managed to half dodge the hard-swung cane.
It was Lois who supplied the final accusation, as she pressed forward into the room. Her horror of Rundon had become indignation, particularly because he had dragged her into the final game.
"You thought you'd get here ahead of Scorpio." exclaimed the girl. "You wanted to murder Claremont and leave a false trail. But someone had to be prowling around, to draw the others off. You wouldn't bring me in the canoe, but you found a way to make me come by land. You knew I'd guess the trick you played, and that I'd be angry enough to set out alone!"
Stooping, the girl picked up the flood of thousand-dollar bills that had piled around Rundon's feet. She intended to hand them to the sheriff, then go out and pick up those in the hall, plus the ones that Rundon had tossed from the window so that the breeze could continue the false trail.
SIGHT of the money, more than the accusations, drove Rundon to his desperate step. Seizing Lois, he whirled the girl between himself and The Shadow's gun; drove for the door, dragging her behind him. His revolver was gone; hence Harry and Carradon tried to grab him, Rundon broke free.
This time, it was Lois who left an actual trail. Rundon was stifling her screams as he headed toward the lake, but the girl was letting the money strew behind her.
Coming along with flashlights, Harry and Carradon were spotting the fluttering bank notes, as they shouted for the deputies to head off Rundon and his prisoner.
The Shadow had taken a shorter route, through the window broken earlier by Rundon. He heard Rundon trying to start a speedboat; there were scuffling sounds, as Lois fought to stop him. Then a big splash, as Lois went overboard. Rundon had taken the only way to free himself of the battling girl.
The speedboat was off. The Shadow leaped aboard another, and Harry sprang in with him. They saw Lois scrambling back to shore; she was yelling that she'd reclaim the money, if they would handle Rundon. The chase was on, in full, for deputies had reached other boats and were following The Shadow's lead.
Rundon headed where The Shadow expected-to his cabin. Reaching it, he grabbed for his rifle and a batch of cartridge
s, finding them in the darkness. Then a circle of flashlights burned upon him. Startled, Rundon almost dropped the rifle.
All about him were the fruits of former robberies: bonds, paintings, statuettes, jewels, and stocks. The men with the lights were deputies. The Shadow had sent a boatload of them earlier, with instructions to dig beneath the cabin and bring up whatever they found. They had assembled all of Rundon's spoils.
Outside, the stopping chugs of a speedboat told that The Shadow had arrived. Flailing wildly with the rifle, Rundon broke from the circle of deputies. Somehow managing to escape their prompt gunfire, he took to the back woods.
He was loading the rifle as he went, for occasionally he snapped shots back at them. But they kept up the pursuit, close enough to keep constantly on his trail.
The trail led to the Pioneer Mine. Rundon bobbed from sight. When the deputies caught up, the sheriff was there to flag them down. He had joined Harry and The Shadow; the trio had come here by water.
The Shadow was leading the way down into the mine.
A light was glimmering in the deepest pit. There, Rundon was using his rifle to pry up the sunken stone that the sheriff and his men had once ignored. Rundon had ruined the rifle barrel in his frantic efforts.
"His route to the cave," whispered The Shadow, to the sheriff. "He must have kept that large stone loose, except when he was on the other side; then, he could let it settle."
The sheriff understood. The stone could be easily hoisted by pressure from below. But Rundon had not come out that way the last time he had used his secret passage. In fact, it was unlikely that the passage would be any good to him on this occasion.
Actually aiding the dying hand of Rufus, that time beneath the rock, Rundon had blasted most of the passage, to cover the secret route by which he had managed to remain a prisoner and still be at large.
Even the crooks had been fooled by that deception.
Rufus had really thought that the chain he grabbed would blast the whole cavernous depths, for Rundon's messages to his tools had claimed that such would happen. At present Rundon, like Rufus, was banking on a hopeless thing.
At least it so seemed, until Rundon, by a Herculean effort, got the stone loose. He rolled it aside and squirmed down into the cavity. They heard him clattering below. Then, his head and shoulders appeared, with the light.
The sweep of his flashlight showed his other hand. It contained a bomb-shaped object. He'd been seeking it, instead of an outlet. Remembering what Rufus had tried to do, Rundon was banking upon taking The Shadow and others with him to a deep and permanent grave. But he hadn't expected The Shadow quite so soon.
RUNDON'S light outlined the black-cloaked figure before the crook had lifted the roundish object in his other hand. Frantically, Rundon tried to make his throw; but the roar of a gun stopped him. He seemed to stiffen in his pit.
With the recoil, The Shadow whirled; he hurled Harry and the sheriff back along the passage. A howl sounded, as Rundon's wounded form went straight down, the light and the bomb going with it. After moments of interminable suspense, scurrying men heard the bomb's great blast.
The Shadow's gunshot had echoed loud. This report actually drove air ahead of it. The ground was quivering; masses of ore were collapsing; walls of the old shaft were dancing, as The Shadow rushed his companions between them.
Having confined the blast to the lower pit, The Shadow had gained moments that proved vital. Ahead of the deafening, increasing roar, he and the men with him dived out to the ground before the underground avalanche could overtake them.
The explosion had found one victim only, the man responsible for it. Niles Rundon, leader and only survivor of a criminal band, had finished his career, by blowing himself to atoms and burying his scattered remains beneath tons of shattered rock.
From the outer darkness came a quivering laugh, that seemed to pick up the reverberations of the blast and add a touch of triumph to their fading echoes. Those who heard it recognized the laugh of The Shadow.
Later, the wind quieted, the surface of Lake Calada lay motionless. Waters of crime had stilled; but their blackness showed the reflection to two twinkling lights, red and green, that seemed to scoot through vast depths.
The lights themselves were high above; they came from the night plane bound for Los Angeles. Among the passengers were two who glanced back, as the plane banked, for their last look at Lake Calada.
Lamont Cranston and his friend Harry Vincent had finished their play with Henry Denwood. They could count their work complete.
Black though the waters lay, they harbored crime no longer. Evil had gone from Lake Calada, banished by The Shadow!
THE END.
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Death in the Stars s-197 Page 13
