The Black Master s-8

by Maxwell Grant

  "I have not! That shows his cleverness. He is working entirely alone. I found one of his tokens beside the body of Howard Jennings. That proved my suspicions regarding the valet. Otherwise I am without a clue."

  "He fears you, perhaps?"

  "No," Gage answered. "He is waiting to begin again after his tools have gone to the electric chair.

  "Still, I am working - with a single hope."

  "What is that?" Zerndorff asked.

  "That he shall make a move to trap me. I, too, am playing a lone hand now. It is because of his craftiness that I may succeed."

  "How so?"

  "He knows that I will go to any measure to defeat him at the earliest possible moment. I am the attacker.

  I must move. He can receive my attack when I am at a great disadvantage. That is one reason why I have come to you." Gage's tone was deeply earnest now.

  "To me, yes?"

  "To you, Doctor Zerndorff, because at any time, I may meet with unexpected danger that will result in death. Remember all that I have told you, because it will be your fight later on, if I meet with failure now!"

  "There is one thing," declared Doctor Zerndorff thoughtfully, "that makes me feel so strongly that this man is active in these bombings. Perhaps it will be a clue, yes. I shall tell you."

  There was a definite assurance in the criminologist's tone. Despite Gage's weariness, his eyes sparkled.

  "It is about these bombs," continued Doctor Zerndorff. "I have not yet discovered what it is that has made them operate.

  "It is not the fuse. It is not the timing. It is not the radio."

  "You have constructed duplicate bombs?"

  "Yes. But it is of no use. I thought that the radio was the method. I have found the wonderful radio operation for bombs, yes. But it is not the way. Not with the bomb that Vervick has made.

  "There is something that is missing! Something which I cannot understand! It must be that there is some sensitive object, of an active agent, like radium, that has discharged those bombs!

  "In my search, I have sought many places. I have found that special bits of delicate machinery were bought at certain places. They were ordered sent away.

  "The police have investigated, but have learned nothing. They have been satisfied because they have found the extra pieces in the shop of this man Vervick. That has been all they have needed."

  The German arose and went to a desk in the corner of the room. He brought out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Gage.

  "Here are the lists that I have made. Perhaps, through these, you may find the clue to The Master. It is probable that he has bought these things and has given them to Vervick. You think so?"

  "It is highly probable, doctor!" Gage was enthusiastic. "This may be exactly what I need! After three weeks of hopeless effort, I am anxious to find any clue!"

  Doctor Zerndorff bowed.

  "Let me say one thing," he remarked. "You must be careful. Remember" - he tapped his forehead - "you are to fight against the brain. The man you seek is waiting. I should not like to see you lose your life. I can see the great dangers before you!"

  "Dangers. Yes." Clifford Gage smiled wanly. "But there is one danger that I do not fear."

  "What is that?"

  "Bombings!" Clifford Gage arose and walked to the door. "I won't be blown up - that much is certain.

  Not for a while, at least. That work is ended - until these convicted men have been electrocuted.

  "After that - well, doctor, I advise you to learn even more than you now know about bombs. You will need to know everything!"

  With that, Clifford Gage was gone. The door closed behind him almost before Doctor Zerndorff realized it. The criminologist went to the window. He turned out the lamp beside him and stood staring into the street.

  No one appeared there. A long, black shadow flitted beneath the glare of an electric light. Doctor Zerndorff's keen eyes sought to find a form beside it. But no one was visible.

  Silently, mysteriously, Clifford Gage had vanished into the night. Once again he had assumed the unknown personality of the strange being called The Shadow.

  Doctor Zerndorff remained beside the upstairs window. Staring and motionless, he waited while long minutes went by, until, at last, he heard a knock at the door of his room.

  Otto entered.

  "You have not seen anyone downstairs?" questioned Doctor Zerndorff.

  "No, Herr Doktor," replied Otto.

  Doctor Zerndorff shook his head.

  "It is wonderful, yes," he muttered. "They call him The Shadow. He is the man that seems like he is of the night. He brings me the amazement!"

  CHAPTER XVIII. MYSTERY HOUSE

  IN uptown Manhattan stood an old, deserted house. Thick bars and gratings protected its windows, even up to the third floor.

  The house had become desolate, specterlike, even before the owner's death, a few years before.

  Pedestrians shuddered and increased their pace as they passed the sinister mansion on dark nights.

  No one would openly declare the place was haunted, yet the few who had rented it found some excuse to break their lease.

  The new owners shrugged and left the place as it was, hoping that some strange eccentric character, like the former owner, might rent the place.

  One tenant at last rented it, at a ridiculously low figure. He made all arrangements by phone and letter, apparently not caring to show himself.

  The owners did not ask him why he chose to live in such a gloomy place. He had paid the year's rent in advance; that was all they wanted.

  Since he moved in with his furniture, no one had seen him either enter or leave the house.

  A few months after the new tenant had moved in, a tall, dignified man called at the office of the company which had taken furniture into the weird house. At the man's request the movers told him the exact date of moving the furniture, and also the address from which they had taken the furniture.

  That night, the same man might have been seen near the house. He wore dark clothing, and when he walked down the street he seemed to melt into the blackness of the houses across the way.

  This continued for two nights. So silently and invisibly was the man's mission accomplished that not even the watchman in a nearby factory noticed the vigil that was being kept.

  On the third night, an automobile passed along the street before the house. The red reflection of its taillight revealed a momentary shadow on the paved street. That was the only indication of a person's presence.

  Shortly afterward, there was a definite motion beside the darkened wall near the rear of the mysterious house. A vague shape rose from the blackness.

  Invisible hands engaged the fastenings of the bars on a ground-floor window. Someone was working, cautiously striving to remove the fastening that seemed as permanent as the wall itself.

  Many minutes elapsed; there was no sound other than a swishing noise that was almost inaudible. Then the entire grating came away. After that, the window opened noiselessly. A human form glided through the space.

  The glare of a flashlight appeared within the dark house. The light could not be seen outside, for it was focused on the floor and its luminous circle was very small. The light moved through the hallway as though floating in the air.

  Not a sound followed it. At last it rested upon a door that was fitted with a lock.

  A hand holding a ring of keys came into the circle of light, the lock clicked, and the door opened outward. The light came on. At first it was a tiny circle on the floor. Then came the powerful beam of a larger light that revealed the full interior of the apartment.

  The room was draped with pleated black curtains. It was carpeted with a dark covering.

  It was the exact counterpart of that room where Howard Jennings had received his last instructions, and in which Harry Vincent had lost his reason!

  It was the lair of The Black Master!

  The light turned about the room. In its glare appeared the shadow of the m
an who held it - a long shadow that came and went like a specter of the night. Then the light was turned off. The smaller flash took its place.

  The man with the light passed through an almost invisible opening in the curtain and cautiously entered a smaller room, with drawn shades and shuttered windows. Here was a curtained niche. The investigator spread the curtains and discovered a broad, old-fashioned windowsill. It was an ideal spot where a man could hide.

  The light moved across the room. It centered on a desk upon which lay a pile of papers. One by one the prying hand investigated them. It found nothing of importance.

  Then it came to a calendar. One date was conspicuous. That was the thirtieth of June. Around it was a small penciled ring. It must signify an appointment.

  June the thirtieth was tomorrow!

  The man with the light continued his mysterious investigation. He confined his efforts to the first floor.

  There was a stairway to the second; also one to the cellar. Both were protected by heavy, double-locked doors.

  The man who had made the search continued no further. He was satisfied after he had discovered a locked closet and had opened it. The closet contained an array of firearms on one shelf. Beneath the shelf, at the bottom of the closet, were hollow shells and bits of mechanism. They were the appliances of a bomb maker. The invisible man laughed softly, in the darkness.

  He closed the door and carefully relocked it. The light moved back toward the rear of the house. It disappeared. A form slipped through the window. The sash was lowered noiselessly. The barred grating was replaced and fastened in the darkness.

  The next day Detective Joe Cardona received a carefully drawn diagram, showing every detail of the ground floor of the old house with the barred windows.

  Cardona was sitting at his desk in headquarters when he received the communication. While he was still puzzling over it, the telephone rang. He answered and listened intently as a low, strangely familiar voice came over the wire.

  "You have received a diagram," came the voice. "It is there before you now."

  "Yes," replied Cardona in amazement.

  "Now I must have your word that you will follow the directions that I give you."

  "Go on," interposed Cardona. "I promise!"

  "The diagram shows the ground-floor plan of the quarters of the man behind the bomb outrages," the voice continued.

  Cardona was too startled to reply.

  "The large central room is the danger spot," added the voice. "That is where he lures his victims.

  "The place is a trap. The walls are covered with jet-black curtains. The room is wired with electric current.

  "There will be a meeting there tonight," came the voice in an impressive tone. "The criminal himself will be present. You can capture him - and with him evidence that will prove his guilt."

  "What evidence?"

  "Bombs!" the voice was sibilant. "Partly finished bombs! But remember, your enemy is dangerous. Unless you follow my plans exactly, you will not capture him. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," replied Cardona.

  "Wait in back of the house," came the voice. "Be there after dark with a squad of men. Lie low. Give no sign of your presence. Do you note the window marked with a tiny X?"

  "Yes."

  "Enter there. Advance to the door of the central room. Go no farther. That is the danger zone. Wait there. The escaping criminal will be forced to choose that exit. And that criminal will be - The Black Master!"

  "And who are you?"

  "A friend," said the voice with a hollow, whispered laugh. "I, too, shall be somewhere in the inner room, where I can trap the enemy. I shall force him into your hands! Once you have captured him, you can search the house."

  "I understand," said Cardona grimly. "When shall I enter with my men?"

  "When you receive my signal, a shot fired from within the house. Then The Black Master will know of my presence; but he will be at my mercy."

  The whole scheme sounded fanciful to Cardona; nevertheless, the impressiveness of that sibilant voice made him realize that this was not a hoax.

  "I am counting on you," said the voice, "because this man is a mastermind. He must be captured, and his identity revealed - otherwise innocent men will go to their deaths. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. Where is the house?"

  The laughter that came over the wire was soft with mockery. It made Cardona realize the ingenuity of his informant. Without the location of the house, all these plans were useless.

  "That," said the voice, "is something that you will learn only if you again promise to obey my instructions to the final detail.

  "No matter what happens - no matter what you may suspect or see, you must not move or mention your plans until you receive my signal. Do you promise?"

  "Yes," agreed Cardona with sincerity.

  "Then take down this address."

  Cardona scrawled the final data upon a sheet of paper. He had hardly finished when he heard the click of the receiver at the other end.

  The detective pocketed the address that he had written, together with the diagram. When Joe Cardona agreed upon any plan, he adhered to it. He knew well who had uttered those mysterious words over the telephone.

  The Shadow!

  "Tonight!" muttered Joe Cardona. "Tonight!"

  He smiled in anticipation. It was the kind of work that Joe Cardona liked. He had full authority to choose his men and go on any quest that he might choose. He thought of Inspector Burke's surprise tomorrow.

  This talk of a Black Master was mysterious - but The Shadow was a man of mystery. He had guided Cardona in the past. Tonight, the detective knew, would reveal new and sensational results that might lead to a final solution of the crimes which had terrorized New York.

  "Tonight!" repeated the detective. "Until then, I keep mum!"

  CHAPTER XIX. ENTER THE SHADOW

  THE telephone rang again beside Joe Cardona's desk. Doctor Zerndorff was on the line.

  "I would like to see you," said the criminologist. "It is very important! I cannot tell you now!"

  Cardona glanced at his watch. It was still early in the afternoon.

  He rode uptown to Zerndorff's apartment. There, Doctor Zerndorff smiled pleasantly.

  "All is well, Herr Detective," said Zerndorff. "Those men we have captured, they are guilty, yes? We have finished our work - and it is to you that all the credit belongs. Yes, to you!"

  "I guess we've cleaned them up, professor," Cardona smiled. "Only -" He stopped abruptly. He seemed to hear the voice of The Shadow, with its warning words.

  "You think there are others, yes?" questioned Zerndorff.

  "Perhaps," said Cardona.

  "How many?"

  "There may be another man -"

  "Impossible!" There was impatience in Zerndorff's declaration. "Impossible! We have captured them all!"

  Cardona became silent. He remembered his agreement with The Shadow. Yet this positiveness of Zerndorff made him wonder.

  He recalled the scene at the hideout of Killer Bryan, when Zerndorff's prompt shots had saved his life.

  He glanced at the criminologist and noted that Zerndorff was eyeing him curiously.

  "You have learned something, yes?" questioned Zerndorff, as though reading the detective's thoughts.

  "What is it?"

  "I can tell you better tomorrow, professor," replied Cardona. He was anxious to reveal his findings to Zerndorff; at the same time, he remembered The Shadow's instructions. He had guaranteed absolute secrecy.

  He knew the devious ways of The Shadow. That strange man had an uncanny ability. If Cardona spoke now, he would be violating his agreement. Should The Shadow learn - well, Cardona realized that it might end the plans for tonight.

  "Tomorrow, professor," said Cardona. "I can tell you better then. I have work to do tonight!"

  "Tonight? But it is for tonight that I have called you here, yes. I have learned something that is very important!

  "You remember thos
e two men, Sforza and Pecherkin, that are now in the prison, yes? There will be a meeting of their friends, tonight, in a secret place! It is important that you should be there, in case that meeting should come to be!"

  "How have you learned of this, professor?"

  Doctor Zerndorff drew a folded paper from his pocket. He spread it before Cardona. It was inscribed with coded characters.

  "This was sent me from Chicago," he explained, "by a government man. Today I have just discovered its meaning.

  "It tells of the meeting, where these men will be. One of them is to come from Chicago; this was taken from him there, yes."

  He wrote an address upon the margin of the paper, copying it from something he saw in the code.

  Cardona recognized it as the location of Loo Link's Restaurant, a notorious den in the underworld.

  He nodded. He knew of the back entrance, where gangsters came and went. Loo Link's had been raided, and was no longer under suspicion. An ideal place for men to congregate in secret, now that the police no longer watched it!

  "There is only one thing," said Cardona, slowly. "I received a telephone call today, professor. I have promised to watch a certain house -" He drew the plan from his pocket.

  "Here, I have been told, is the headquarters of a dangerous criminal. Someone - my informant, I believe -

  will be in this inner room, awaiting him. I am to wait outside with my men."

  "A hoax!" exclaimed Doctor Zerndorff. "A hoax, yes! To lead you there so you will not be at the place I say! You must work with me, Herr Detective, that we shall find, perhaps, the evidence we shall need if these men shall receive a new trial -"

  "I understand," replied Cardona grimly. He saw the plot now. He had believed the words which he had thought were from The Shadow - but here was Doctor Zerndorff, the mastermind of criminology, showing him his mistake.

  "Do not go to that house!" advised Zerndorff. "Do not go today! Wait until tomorrow, yes! Do not believe these strange messages! They will mislead! You understand?"

  Cardona nodded. He glanced at his watch. The afternoon was waning. He prepared to leave for headquarters.

  "I cannot go with you tonight," declared Zerndorff, in a disappointed tone. "I wish that I might go with you. But you must do this by yourself, yes. I shall be busy here -" He waved his hand toward the laboratory.