The Living Shadow s-1

by Maxwell Grant

  Harry had been extremely fortunate. He had reached Holmwood before noon, and had stopped in the cigar store near the post office. Hitherto he had heard little of consequence there, but on this occasion he obtained a veritable mine of information as he listened to the gossip of two old idlers.

  “I hear the Laidlows left yesterday,” one old man had said.

  “Yes,” another had replied. “That fellow Burgess went with them. Down to Florida, I hear.”

  “Servants go along, too?”

  “Yes, the whole shooting match. The house is all closed up.”

  “Funny they’d leave it that way.”

  “No; ‘tisn’t. There ain’t nothing of value there now.”

  “What about the furniture?”

  “Oh, that’s safe enough. They’ve got a watchman hanging around the place. Besides, you don’t never hear of burglars hitting a place where they’ve been before, do you? They don’t strike twice in one spot. They’re like lightning.”

  “Guess that’s right. What else is doing?”

  “I hear old Bingham went out of town.”

  “Where to?”

  “Who knows that? He goes away every couple of months, I reckon. Drove away in his car, I hear.”

  “All alone?”

  “He’s always alone.”

  “That’s right. Did he leave Jenks here?”

  “Course, he did. Jenks was downtown here last night.”

  “I thought he never left the house when the old man was away.”

  “He don’t leave it long. I guess the old man don’t know he leaves it at all. He sneaks out, though, whenever he gets a chance. Meets his girl and puts her on the eight-ten train.”

  “What! Has Jenks got a girl?”

  “Sure. That kid over at the drug store. He meets her outside at eight - that’s when she quits work - and walks with her to the station.”

  “Hm-m-m! That’s a good one! Jenks has a girl!”

  “It’s straight, though. No use laughing about it. Sometimes old Bingham lets Jenks come downtown, but not often. So it’s a sure bet Jenks will be here tonight. He don’t stay away from the house long, though. Three quarters of an hour, I reckon.”

  So ended the conversation that had interested Harry Vincent. After that he had hurried up to Holmwood Arms, and had obtained his car at the garage. He had driven into the city, to report all he had heard to Fellows.

  The insurance broker had sent out a note by the stenographer. That was at two o’clock. When Harry returned at three thirty, he found an envelope and a small box awaiting him. The box was secured with seals.

  “Keep the box in your pocket,” Fellows had said. “Go back to Holmwood. Check up on the information you have gained, if possible. Read the letter in your room, at precisely half past seven.”

  So here was Vincent, back at Holmwood Arms. He had learned positively that the Laidlow family had gone away, and that the house was empty. But he had not been able to gain assurance that Ezekiel Bingham was out of town.

  Harry’s watch showed seven-thirty. He opened the envelope.

  It contained a list of instructions, the words depending upon the use of letter substitution. Decoded, it read:

  “Watch Bingham’s house immediately.

  “When Jenks has gone, try the door.

  “If it opens, enter and go to upstairs study.

  “Turn on the radio; tune in on Station WNX.

  “Open your package and lay its contents on table.

  “Listen for Modern Dentifrice program.

  “Write down important words given by announcer.

  “Follow instructions; then leave.

  “Drive in to Metrolite Hotel; register there and wait.

  “Important: If Jenks does not appear, or if door does not open,

  give it up for tonight.”

  Harry read these instructions over two or three times, then the ink faded from view. This reminded him that he must start immediately. He left the inn and walked up the avenue, on the side of the street away from Bingham’s house.

  His watch showed quarter of eight when he arrived. He had less than a minute to wait. He saw a man come quietly from the door, and start walking rapidly toward the village. He decided that it must be Jenks, the old lawyer’s servant.

  Harry slipped across the street and tried the door. It opened. Jenks must have left it unlocked. The floor was heavily carpeted, and the stairs, likewise.

  Harry reached the study without misadventure. The room was unlighted, but he found a lamp on the table and turned it on. The room was a small one. It contained a desk, a bookcase, a filing cabinet, and a radio. There was a steel door in one corner. The shade of the window had been drawn.

  It was nearly ten minutes to eight. Harry pressed the switch on the radio, and turned the dial until he found Station WNX, which he recognized by the popular comedy program that was a nightly feature from seven forty-five until eight o’clock.

  Harry drew the box from his pocket, broke the seals, and brought three objects into view.

  One was a peculiarly shaped key; in fact, Harry had never seen a similar key before.

  The second article was a small black bottle with a screw cap. He took off the cap and found that a sponge was wedged in the neck. Evidently it was there for a definite purpose. So he let it remain.

  The third article was a small memorandum pad with a pencil attached. Its purpose was obvious to Harry. He was to take notes of some sort; the pad and pencil had been included in the box to make sure that he would be provided with the necessary materials. The Shadow didn’t miss a trick!

  Sitting at the desk, Harry listened to the radio, waiting. He had tuned in carefully so that the sound would not be too loud. He knew that he was alone in the house, yet felt nervous. Less than five minutes remained before it would be eight o’clock. Those minutes seemed as hours.

  The comedy number was reaching its conclusion. Harry realized that in his nervous state he had hardly caught a word. He must be careful now, and listen.

  A clock downstairs struck eight times, and the sound of its gong startled him. The strokes seemed unduly slow - as though they were minutes apart.

  The Modern Dentifrice Program was on the air. Harry had his pencil in hand. What would the announcer say? Curiosity, mingled with nervousness in Harry’s mind.

  The announcer was speaking. Harry detected a strange voice. He had listened frequently to this program, but had never heard this particular announcer before.

  The voice spoke slowly. In the first sentence, Hairy caught an emphasis that brought a gasp of astonishment to his lips.

  The man at Station WNX was stressing certain words, exactly as Harry had heard words stressed over the telephone.

  The radio broadcast was bringing a message from The Shadow! A message that would be heard by millions, yet whose true significance was meant for Harry Vincent alone!

  His pencil was busy, writing the important words upon the pad.

  “We now OPEN our program,” came the slow, carefully modulated voice of the announcer. “Let me remind you that opportunity is at your DOOR. Rely upon a SAFE method to preserve your teeth by using a COMBINATION of dentifrices. SIX thousand FIVE hundred and thirty-SEVEN dentists have endorsed this one method. You may PLACE your confidence in them. Brush your teeth with LIQUID; then with paste.

  “When you buy your dentifrice, look for the gold label, which appears ON every SEALED package of Modern Dentifrice.

  “If you will send a stamped ENVELOPE to this station, you will receive a COPY of our booklet, ‘Perfect Teeth.’

  “You will now hear our nightly program of popular musical NUMBERS.”

  The strains of a jazz orchestra burst from the radio. Harry turned off the instrument. He had received his message. Now to consider it.

  Harry considered these words on the pad:

  “Open door safe combination six five seven place liquid on sealed envelope copy numbers.”

  Harry realized instantly that the d
oor he was to open was the steel one in the corner of Ezekiel Bingham’s study. He picked up the key that he had found in the package and tried it. It fitted the lock. He opened the steel door and revealed the safe.

  The safe combination - six, five, seven - puzzled him for a moment. In what directions should he turn the dial? Probably left, right, left. He tried it. The safe opened.

  Next, he must discover a sealed envelope. There were not many papers in the safe.

  Harry picked up one small pile, but did not find the envelope in question. There were three sealed envelopes in the next packet: one of these had sealing wax on the back, and the mark of a signet ring. Evidently this was the envelope.

  Harry handled it carefully. He did not even touch the seal.

  Going to the desk, he performed an operation which occurred to him as obvious. He inverted the bottle. The sponge became saturated with liquid from within. Harry rubbed the sponge over the entire face of the envelope. The paper became transparent immediately.

  There was a single sheet of paper inside the envelope. The paper was now entirely visible. It contained several rows of numbers. Harry realized this must be the original code from which the old lawyer had made the copy to give to Elbert Joyce, that night in the darkened automobile.

  He tore the top sheet from his pad; crumpled the paper in his pocket, and quickly transcribed the numbers to the pad. They were meaningless to Harry, but he copied them exactly:

  “730-16; 457-20; 330-5; 543-26; 605-39; 808-1; 457-20; 38-14; 840-28; 877-27; 101-13; 872-21; 838-10.”

  He checked the list to make sure he had taken them down correctly. He noticed that the surface of the envelope was less transparent.

  Putting the pad in his pocket, Harry carefully straightened the piles of papers, and replaced the envelope where it belonged.

  The envelope had dried completely; there was no trace whatever of the liquid which had enabled Vincent to read the hidden message.

  He closed the safe and locked the steel door, then gathered up the various articles that he had brought. Turning the dial of the radio to the degree it had been originally, Harry quit the room. His watch showed eighteen minutes after eight.

  Leaving the house, he crossed the street, and strolled back toward Holmwood Arms. He heard some one walking rapidly along the street, coming from the opposite direction. Jenks likely, thought Harry, realizing that he had not had many minutes to spare.

  Of all his adventures in the service of The Shadow, this had been the most unexpected. The radio announcer at WNX! How had that been arranged? Who was he? The Shadow, himself?

  Harry thought of the numbers on the pad. No wonder they had puzzled old Ezekiel Bingham. He pictured Elbert Joyce working over them. Had the cryptogram expert solved their meaning? Well, soon the mysterious numbers would reach The Shadow, and Joyce would be racing against a masterful rival.

  Harry found his car at the garage, and drove toward the city. The rest of his work was easy. Back to the Metrolite Hotel, to await further instructions.

  “No adventures for another two hours anyway”, Harry mused as he sped along. “But they’ll be coming along sooner or later.”

  In this, he was but partly right. He was due for excitement much sooner than he expected.

  The brilliant sign of a gasoline station reminded him that his car needed more fuel. The gauge showed less than two gallons. He pulled up, and ordered his tank filled. He proffered a twenty-dollar bill to the attendant.

  The service man shook his head.

  “Can’t change that. Nothing smaller?”

  Harry searched in his pocket. Two twenties were all the money he had with him.

  “I’ll get it changed for you,” volunteered the man.

  “Make it quick. I’m in a hurry.”

  “You’ll have to wait a minute,” replied the man. “Here’s another car coming up, and I’ll have to serve him gas before I can leave.

  “Where are you going to change it?”

  “Over there at the lunch wagon.”

  Vincent looked to where the service man pointed.

  “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll leave my car here, and get it changed myself.”

  “Okay,” replied the service man. “Tell them Fred sent you. They’ll change it for you.”

  Vincent walked to the lunch wagon, climbed the steps, and pulled back the sliding door. There were two men behind the counter, and several others sitting on the stools.

  “Change a twenty?” asked Vincent. “Fred sent me.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Vincent counted the bills that he received, thrust the money in his pocket, and placed his hand upon the handle of the sliding door. Before he could open it, the door slid back suddenly. A man was entering the lunch wagon, and Harry found himself confronted by English Johnny!

  CHAPTER XXV

  A FRIEND IN NEED

  Harry stepped aside to let English Johnny pass.

  Trying to appear nonchalant, Harry hoped he might escape recognition. The episode of the taxicab had occurred less than twenty-four hours before; but Harry was no longer wearing the cap and uniform in which the beefy-faced individual had seen him.

  English Johnny’s attention was distracted for a moment by a cry of greeting that came from the men who were eating at the counter.

  “H’lo, Johnny!” called one. “Heard you were coming out tonight.”

  “Hello, boys,” was the reply from the doorway. “Yes, I expected to be out of town, but I sent word I’d come here instead to see how business was coming along.”

  The big man entered the lunch wagon, as he stepped forward, Harry Vincent started to slip by. In his anxiety to get out, he accidentally jolted English Johnny.

  “Hey fellow!” shouted English Johnny gruffly. “What’s your hurry?”

  He gripped Harry’s arm, and stared into his face.

  “Just the fellow I’ve been looking for!” English Johnny exclaimed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t try to crawl out of it, now. You’re the fellow who was giving me the run-around last night.”

  Harry forced a laugh.

  “I don’t quite comprehend,” he said.

  “You were driving a cab last night.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  “Think so? Well, I don’t.”

  There was a tone of finality in English Johnny’s voice.

  Plainly, the man meant trouble. Harry started to shake himself loose, but the big man’s grip only tightened.

  “You can’t get out of it that easy,” said English Johnny.

  “Out of what?”

  “Out of this - that’s what. You tried to pull a fast one on me last night. I’ll see to it that you don’t fool me again.”

  The crowd at the back of the lunch wagon was moving forward. They were unanimously in accord with English Johnny.

  Harry figured that a break for freedom was the only course. But to escape he must get the awkward door open and, at the same time, hold off English Johnny.

  The big fellow evidently divined Harry’s intent; for English Johnny raised two huge fists in front of the young man’s eyes.

  “What’s the idea?” asked Harry, keeping up his bluff.

  “You’ll find out quick enough. I’m going to knock that mug of yours out of shape. It’ll look blame funny when I get through.”

  “You’ll be letting yourself in for a lot of trouble if you do.”

  “Hear that?” demanded English Johnny of the gang. “Hear him threaten me? I’ve got a right to sock him, ain’t I?”

  There were seven men in the throng. Their words were all for English Johnny.

  “We’ll stand with you. Hand him plenty!”

  “I’ll take care of him when you’ve finished.”

  Harry clenched his fists. He felt that he was the match of any one of the men, including the boastful English Johnny. But, against eight his chances were hopeless.

  The two men behind the counter, clad in whi
te coats and aprons, were leaning on their elbows watching the show with anticipation. Fights were usually taboo in lunch wagons, but English Johnny was boss, and if he wanted a battle, it was all right.

  Harry took a bold course. A fight was unavoidable. He might as well start it and get in a few blows for himself, before they ganged him - as seemed likely.

  “Get out of my way,” he ordered.

  He placed his hand against English Johnny’s chest and thrust the man back.

  “Hit me, will you?” exclaimed the proprietor of the lunch wagon. “Now I’ve got a right to clean you up. You started it. You witnessed it, boys.”

  He swung his massive fist at Harry’s face. Harry parried the blow with his right hand, and struck out with his left. His sweeping hook would have landed against the side of English Johnny’s face, except that one of the bystanders, with an ugly laugh, reached out and blocked Harry’s blow.

  The big man profited by this opportunity. He landed a short punch which sent Harry staggering against the window behind him. Seeing that he had jarred his opponent, English Johnny became suddenly confident.

  “Leave him to me, boys,” he ordered.

  Harry was slumped against the window, still gasping from the body blow against which he had had no opportunity to defend himself.

  His huge antagonist was waiting, on the alert. As Harry began to straighten up, the big man poised his right fist for the finishing blow.

  Then came an unexpected interruption.

  One of the men behind the counter had left his place to join the crowd. Now he thrust his body between English Johnny and the big man’s victim.

  The man who caused the interruption was of medium height; well built, and determined of expression. His face was swarthy; it almost seemed as though it might be covered with grease paint.

  English Johnny surveyed the fellow in astonishment.

  “What’s troubling you?” he demanded. “What are you butting in about?”

  “Leave this guy alone,” the man replied, waving his hand toward Harry.

  English Johnny turned to the other man behind the counter.