The Crime Clinic

WHEN the pair stepped from the elevator on the third floor, Cardona uttered a surprised exclamation. Bathed in light from the doorway of Sarborn’s apartment lay the dead form of Jalon, the servant. The man had managed to crawl that far before he died.

Joe gripped his revolver. He heard Lamont Cranston remark that the dead man was Sarborn’s servant. Joe nodded and motioned to Cranston to accompany him. They entered the apartment. They saw at once that the place was empty.

“I know the man who got this fellow!” exclaimed Cardona. “I’ll tell you who it was. Doctor Lysander Dubrong — the man who has the East Side Clinic. He came up here ten minutes ago.”

“Doctor Dubrong!” uttered Cranston, in a tone of incredulity. “That must be impossible! He is a man of high reputation.”

“I know him for what he is,” growled Cardona. “The question now is where he’s gone. He’s made a get-away.”

“Maybe the macaw knows,” suggested Cranston.

“The macaw?” asked Cardona.

“Yes,” returned Cranston, “the scarlet bird, there on the chair.”

Cardona stared at the macaw. The bird was perched as calmly as ever, the only challenge in its bearing being the motion of its beak.

“At Winchendon’s,” remarked Cranston, “the macaw had a remarkable ability to utter names that it had heard. Perhaps Sarborn, before he left, stated where he was going. Perhaps Dubrong has followed him there.”

“How do you make the bird talk?” asked Cardona.

Cranston was lighting a cigarette. Holding it between his lips, he approached and scratched the macaw’s head. The bird ruffed its throat feathers and wagged its beak. Suddenly, its shrill cry sounded.

“Lydell!” screamed the macaw. “Lydell! Lydell!”

Cranston removed the cigarette from his lips as he stepped away from the chair.

“That sounded plain enough,” he told Cardona. “It was a name, all right.”

“Lydell,” repeated Cardona.

“Lydell!” shrilled the scarlet macaw.

Cranston had spied the newspaper on the table. He picked it up and pointed to the news paragraph beside the picture.

“Look at that,” he said.

“Garforth Lydell!” exclaimed Cardona. “Say” — he was reading the paragraph — “he lives less than a dozen blocks from here. That’s where I’m going — to Lydell’s.”

Cardona leaped to the telephone. He turned to Cranston before raising the receiver.

“I’m calling police headquarters before I start,” he informed the millionaire. “I don’t want to lose any time. I’ve got a man outside, Mr. Cranston. Detective Sergeant Markham. You’ll do me a favor if you’ll go down and tell him to come up. I’m hopping for Lydell’s. You can stay here—”

Cranston was nodding as Cardona spoke. With no further delay, the millionaire turned and strode from the apartment. He took the elevator to the ground floor. At the outer door, he stood and made a beckoning gesture with his arms. Detective Sergeant Markham came hurrying from a car parked down the street. Like Cardona, Markham also remembered Lamont Cranston.

“Cardona wants you up at Sarborn’s apartment,” informed Cranston. “Right away, Markham. Third floor. Tell him I shall return here shortly. I have an appointment at the Cobalt Club which I must keep.”

Markham nodded. There was no mention of murder up above. He went into the apartment building as Cranston departed. Markham saw no reason why the millionaire should remain.

Cranston reached his coupe. There, he quickly donned his masking cloak and hat. It was The Shadow who drove away from the front of the apartment house. His hands, as they were manipulating the wheel, were drawing on their black gloves.

Bart Melken had gone to Garforth Lydell’s. Farrell Sarborn had followed him. Doctor Lysander Dubrong had taken up the trail. Detective Joe Cardona was on his way. Besides these, there was another who would arrive before Cardona.

The Shadow, too, was traveling to the focal point where crime was due to strike. The Shadow’s laugh was echoing as the coupe turned uptown at the nearest avenue.

Tonight, The Shadow would meet The Jackdaw. The elusive bird of crime would come face to face with the avenger who had crossed his path before. The Shadow knew.

He was out to snare The Jackdaw in the act of crime.