The Road Of Crime s-39

by Maxwell Grant

  Out of darkness came two white, creeping objects. They were hands - human hands, lithe and long-fingered - that moved like detached creatures of life. They rested within the circle of light. Alike in formation, they differed in one point only.

  From the third finger of the left hand gleamed a flaming jewel. Like a living coal of fire, it flashed glimmering sparkles upward from mysterious depths.

  Somber maroon in its original color, the stone turned to a brilliant purple; then faded to a pale azure that sent forth leaping sparks of brilliant, uncanny light.

  This gem was the token of The Shadow. It was a priceless girasol, a rare jewel unmatched in all the world. Its weird hues symbolized the mysterious personality of the amazing being who wore it. Moreover, the gem gained strange effects from the ghoulish light that shone from above.

  As the color-changing girasol told the identity of its wearer, so did the bluish light from the lamp reveal the place where the master of mystery now was stationed.

  The Shadow was in his sanctum - an unknown abode somewhere in Manhattan - a mysterious room of blackness where no other than himself had ever been!

  One hand moved away. It returned and dropped envelopes upon the table. Some had been opened previously.

  From them now came clippings - accumulated references supplied by Rutledge Mann. Two sealed envelopes were torn open by the strong but slender fingers. These were the envelopes which Rutledge Mann had so recently placed in the mail chute of the office on Twenty-third Street.

  The eyes of The Shadow - eyes hidden in darkness beyond the lamp - studied the clippings. The hands added them to the former items.

  Then came Harry Vincent’s report sheet. It was a concise message, written in code. The Shadow read the inked words as rapidly as if they had been in ordinary writing.

  Hardly had the invisible eyes completed their perusal before the written words began to fade one by one.

  This was an expected phenomenon. In all communications to and from The Shadow, the agents were used to a special type of ink which vanished shortly after being exposed to the air. Through its agency, all messages were automatically destroyed. Any that fell into wrong hands would be gone before they could be deciphered.

  A low laugh sounded from the gloom. The Shadow was considering the message from his agent. Harry Vincent had done well in Southwark. Yet his findings had produced a problem which even The Shadow had not anticipated!

  THE SHADOW, in his trip to Grand Rapids, had struck a powerful blow against a band of raiders supposedly led by Graham Wellerton. The Shadow knew that the leader - and a few men with him - had managed to escape purely by staying in the background while the main body invaded.

  Summoned back to New York by important errands there, The Shadow had been awaiting developments, knowing that the missing crooks would bob up somewhere. Minor bank raids had come of evidence of their activity this side of Grand Rapids.

  The Shadow had ordered Harry Vincent to the territory, to glean preliminary information. Not long ago, The Shadow had heard Graham Wellerton tell Carma that he would never go back to the town of Southwark. That had been when Graham was on the crest of successful crime. Now, with circumstances altered, Graham might deliberately have changed his former decision. Southwark, of all places, might best serve as a temporary refuge.

  Here was the report from Harry Vincent. The Shadow’s agent had discovered Graham Wellerton in Southwark. But in his careful inquiry - Harry was an ace when it came to getting information in strange towns - he had learned that Graham had arrived there the night before the Michigan bank raid had been foiled by The Shadow!

  This was the reason for The Shadow’s laugh. Weird mockery seemed to hover within that black-walled room. Ghoulish echoes persisted even after hidden lips had ceased their mirthful utterance.

  The Shadow had corroborated a suspicion which had been lurking in his intuitive brain - namely that Graham Wellerton had not been with the bank robbers at Grand Rapids!

  What was Graham Wellerton’s purpose? How and why had the gentleman of crime parted from his men? Why was he no longer engaged in robbery?

  These were questions which The Shadow was resolved to answer.

  Hands reached across the table. Earphones came into view. A tiny bulb lighted, showing that The Shadow had formed a connection. His weird voice spoke in a whisper. Across the wire came a quiet reply:

  “Burbank speaking.”

  Burbank was The Shadow’s hidden contact man - the one who kept in touch with agents when they were at work. He was always accessible by telephone, to relay messages through to The Shadow.

  “Report from Marsland,” ordered The Shadow.

  Burbank gave a brief reply. Cliff Marsland, The Shadow’s agent who played the part of an underworld mobsman, had gained no trace of Wolf Daggert. He had been unable to find any clew to a hide-out where the skulking gang leader might be staying.

  “Report from Burke,” demanded The Shadow.

  Another reply. Burbank had heard from Clyde Burke, the newspaper reporter on the New York Classic who was in The Shadow’s service.

  Burke had been deputed to keep track of Carma Wellerton. He learned that she was living under the name of Carma Urstead, and that she was still in New York.

  Communication ended with his contact agent, The Shadow performed a new action. His hands produced a large map and spread it on the table. The fingers placed tiny pins upon towns marked there - the places where small bank robberies had been attempted.

  PROMINENT on the map was the town of Southwark. The trail was closing near that point. This one town would be a likely spot for another raid, if the robbers were still in that vicinity.

  Was this of Graham Wellerton’s making; or was the former leader free from crime - with chance bringing his henchmen to that district?

  Whatever the case might be, The Shadow could see a trail as plainly as if it had been marked on the map. A hundred miles away from Grand Rapids, it formed a zigzag eastward. Southwark might well be in its path. Defeated marauders, beating their course back toward New York, were trying to glean profits by minor depredations.

  The pins were drawn away. The map was folded by the hands. The bluish light went out with a resounding click. Through the pitch-black room came the sinister tones of a hollow laugh. Sneering tones of mirth broke into a jibing peal that changed to shuddering whispers.

  Back came the eerie mirth in ghostly echoes from the walls. Again and again the reverberations answered, as though a goblin horde had cried to its master from the depths of unseen corridors.

  When the last sibilant jeers had faded away, deep, heavy silence was all-pervading. The sanctum was empty. The Shadow had departed. The master of the night had left upon his errand to stamp out the last vestiges of broken crime.

  CHAPTER XII

  DELKIN CONFIDES

  THAT same evening, Graham Wellerton was seated alone in the living room of Ralph Delkin’s Southwark home. The former gentleman of crime was now a gentleman of leisure. Sprawled in a large chair, his feet stretched out on a comfortable stool, Graham Wellerton was reading a newspaper which he had selected from a stack beside him.

  During his sojourn at Ralph Delkin’s home, Graham had not turned his hand to a single bit of work. He had shown no inclination to do anything but loaf. Attired in new clothes which his benefactor had bought him, well-fed with sumptuous fare, he was living at ease and showing a constant indifference toward those who had befriended him.

  Reading the newspaper, Graham found passing interest in the account of a small and rather unprofitable bank robbery which had been committed in a town not many miles from Southwark. Graham smiled. Wolf Daggert and his defeated minions were trying their luck on a small scale.

  Graham wondered if Wolf were afraid to return to New York. Probably, Graham decided. After cracking a few more cribs, the skulking gang leader would probably head for a more profitable territory, but he would not be likely to show up in Manhattan for some time to come.

&nb
sp; Graham could figure the system that Wolf was using. With three men at his command, the leader was making short, quick raids; then lying low, probably in some obscure section of the countryside. Graham wondered if, by any chance, Wolf and his men would visit Southwark.

  This town would be a logical spot. The State bank, owned by Graham’s uncle, Ezra Talboy, was a profit-making institution. The region surrounding Southwark was hilly and it possessed some isolated and abandoned strips of farm land. Hiding out - an art in which Wolf Daggert excelled - would be easy hereabouts.

  Graham pondered. Much though he disliked the thought, it seemed wise to remain in Southwark for some time to come. It was the part of sanity to continue this life of leisure.

  Graham realized that his own status was none too good in his home town. While he lived quietly here at Delkin’s, he was free from suspicion; but should he make a sudden departure, others might wonder.

  What irony it would be if he should go away just prior to a chance raid by Wolf Daggert and his men. He, Graham Wellerton, might be suspected of criminal activity. Should Wolf Daggert be captured and questioned, a mere mention of Graham’s name would cause the yellow gang leader to squeal.

  With a past to protect, Graham decided that it would be best to lie low and wait until Wolf Daggert had departed from this district - or until something had happened to the skulking gang leader who had already caused Graham trouble.

  Later, opportunity would arrive to leave. Graham had been looking forward to the time when he could safely leave Southwark. Yet, as he considered the matter now, that day seemed strangely remote. Growling to himself, Graham wondered if he were becoming soft - if the thought of future crime might be actually distasteful.

  FLINGING the newspaper to the floor, Graham lighted a cigarette and stared upward at the ceiling. Analyzing himself, he was forced to the realization that he was not a crook at heart. For the first time in many months, necessity for crime was no longer existent, so far as Graham was concerned. The young man found himself regretful of his past.

  Why? Graham angrily asked himself the reason. What influence had prevailed, here in Southwark, to bring Graham to such a realization?

  Various reasons were possible. One by one, the young man rejected them. While Graham was in this state of mind, the real answer appeared. Eunice Delkin entered the room.

  Graham stared moodily and gave no greeting as the girl sat down in a chair a short distance away. Despite the sullenness in his gaze, Graham found himself admitting that Eunice was more than merely attractive. She was beautiful; and the quiet smile which she gave Graham had an immediate effect.

  The young man realized that he admired Eunice Delkin beyond all persons whom he had ever met before. The reason for his mental conflict regarding crime was now apparent.

  In his heart, Graham was in love with Eunice Delkin. At the same time, he realized that insurmountable barriers made it impossible for him to express the sentiment which he felt.

  His past - with its crime - that was bad enough. Had his career been the only obstacle, Graham might have seen a possibility toward future happiness. It would be possible, under proper circumstances, to make amends for deeds of crime. Graham had no money; there was no way of establishing himself, except through taking advantage of Ralph Delkin’s friendship. Even that might lead to happiness; but a final barrier remained. Graham was thinking of Carma.

  That marriage into which he had been tricked! It was the factor that made happiness impossible. Graham had never thought of Carma as his wife. To him she was still Carma Urstead, a gangster’s moll who had worked deceit and profited thereby.

  As he studied Eunice Delkin, Graham Wellerton admired her frank, understanding countenance. He thought of Carma Urstead, whose overpainted face always bore traces of a mean, selfish nature. If the past few years could only be obliterated! That was Graham’s single thought.

  Although Eunice Delkin did not know the thoughts that were passing in Graham’s mind, she realized that something was troubling the young man. She smiled sympathetically. Graham, to cover his thoughts, mumbled in grouchy fashion as he puffed his cigarette.

  “Are you worrying about anything, Graham?” questioned Eunice in a kindly tone.

  “No,” growled the young man. “What difference would it make, anyway?”

  “A great deal,” rejoined Eunice. “I should like to see you happy - to see you enjoying life here.”

  “Not much chance of that,” retorted Graham. “I hate this town. Maybe you think I’m ungrateful toward you and your father. Maybe he wonders why I won’t take a job in his factory, even after he showed me the plant and made me an offer. But I don’t care. Think what you want about me.”

  “Would you like to know what I think about you?”

  “Yes.” Graham’s tone was challenging. “Go ahead. Criticize me. Speak out.”

  “I think,” declared Eunice gently, “that you have suffered greatly in the past. Your mind is overburdened by misfortune. You need friendship; and it must be given patiently, with no thought of a response on your part.

  “The longer that you resist the kindness which my father and I are seeking to show you, the longer will I, at least, be patient with you. Life has treated you badly. It may take many months for old wounds to heal. I am determined, however, that you will some day appreciate our friendship and come to remember it as the real brightness in your life.”

  Graham Wellerton had no reply. One word of criticism might have brought an outburst; but he realized that it was impossible to argue with one so fair-minded as Eunice Delkin. The young man sat in silence. Feelings of hatred surged through his brain; but they were all directed toward himself.

  DURING this long pause, while Graham Wellerton was coming to stern realization of his past mistakes, Ralph Delkin entered the living room. Eunice arose to greet her father. Delkin kissed his daughter; then spoke in a serious tone.

  “I should like to talk to Graham,” he said. “Alone. You do not mind leaving -“

  “What is the trouble, daddy?” questioned Eunice, in a tone of apprehension.

  “I can tell you later, darling,” responded Delkin. “For the present” - the man’s tone was worried - “I would rather talk with Graham.”

  Nodding, the girl left the living room. The door closed behind her.

  Ralph Delkin turned to Graham Wellerton. The young man was perplexed. He wondered if something had occurred to give his protector an inkling of his past. Delkin’s first words, however, dispelled that idea.

  “I’m in trouble, Graham,” declared Delkin. “Something very unforeseen has arisen. I have to talk to someone.”

  “Thanks,” returned Graham dryly.

  Delkin did not note the sarcasm in the young man’s tone. Pacing back and forth, the Southwark manufacturer wore a worried, doubtful air. Finally he turned. and spoke again.

  “Your uncle,” he said to Graham, “is deliberately set to swindle me. Yet his means are fair - within the law.”

  “As Ezra Talboy’s ways always are,” interposed Graham.

  “You mean your father’s case,” nodded Delkin. “Graham, that’s why I’m talking to you. Ezra Talboy swindled your father. I have detested the man ever since. I have only done business with him under pressure. Now I have come to a point of regret.

  “I needed money not long ago. Fifty thousand dollars. I wanted it to keep my plant open - to pay deserving men and let them work during a poor business period. I wanted to avert unemployment in Southwark.

  “Ezra Talboy loaned me the money for three months, with a promise of renewal for another ninety days. I gave him the best security possible - my plant and its equipment, valued at more than a quarter of a million.

  “I exhausted nearly all of the fifty thousand. I saw my business through the difficult period. The plant is now showing a slight profit. One month from now, it will be wiping out all deficits.”

  “But in the meantime,” reminded Graham.

  “That’s it,” admitted Delk
in. “My notes are due within a few days, I dropped in to see Ezra Tallboy - to remind him of the extension. He has refused to give it.”

  “Which means?”

  “That my entire plant passes into his control. I lose everything - all for fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Money which you do not have.”

  “Money which I paid to my faithful employees.”

  Graham Wellerton leaned back in his chair and emitted a raucous laugh. Ralph Delkin stood in amazement as he heard the young man’s merriment.

  “That’s what comes from your folly, Delkin,” jeered Graham. “You dealt with that old skinflint - although it was against good judgment. Why? To help out a lot of employees who should have been laid off. Your workmen have been living along at your expense. Now you are going to pay the piper.

  “Gratitude! Where is it? What does it amount to? You brought me here - you insisted upon treating me well. I took your favors; and I warned you that I did not want them - that I would give you no return.

  “If you expect advice from me, I have none to give. If you want sympathy or encouragement, those are lacking also. You deserve what you are getting - and it’s coming from the chap that’s most capable of giving it - Ezra Talboy.”

  RALPH DELKIN was frantic. Graham Wellerton’s jeers had a double effect; they made the manufacturer angry and they also drove him to a state of pitiable hopelessness. Between these mingled emotions, Delkin paced across the room and half staggered from the door. Graham could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs. The young man chuckled with evil glee.

  Graham looked up to see Eunice Delkin standing beside him. The girl had entered the room silently. As her eyes met Graham’s, Eunice put a question:

  “What is the trouble with father?”

  “Business,” sneered Graham. “Misplaced trust. He is going to lose everything, because he was big-hearted and believed what other people told him. I rubbed it in - I told him he was a fool. How do you like that? You’ve found cause to criticize me now, haven’t you?”