Fingers of Death
- Автор: Грант Максвелл
- Серия: The Shadow #25
- Год: 1933
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Shadow Magazine
- Жанр: Крутые детективы
Электронная книга - «Fingers of Death». Краткое содержание книги:
The base of the Spanish War Monument! The monument had been erected a few years before the millions had been taken. Its location was indeed secluded. In all probability, the base was hollow, and Warthrop had been conversant with that fact.
The plate on the front of the base. It must be removable! Behind it, packed away, were the funds!
Waiting there, for some one to take them! Waiting for a group of conspirators of whom only one remained!
There was one grave danger — that some one else had learned the secret of the paper in the cornerstone.
Hurley Adams had been anticipating that. Hence his request to the bank president that he might see copies of the papers in advance.
Others — if there were others — would wait until the historical sketch was published in the newspapers. In the meantime, Hurley Adams knew!
The lawyer swung his arm, and the carbon papers fluttered into the blazing fire. Caught by tongues of flame, these copied documents burned rapidly. There was no need for the records now. The old man knew — and this was his opportunity!
Hurley Adams stared at the fire. The glow showed strange emotions on his face. At times, the lawyer’s expression was crafty. At others, it became almost benign. What was passing in the mind behind that face?
The lawyer’s hands, too, were expressive. They moved in grasping fashion; then opened and lay still, with fingers spread apart.
What was Hurley Adams planning?
When Unger entered the room, the lawyer had become thoroughly composed. His face was almost wistful. He seemed very tired and incapable of great effort. He was a man who had made a strange decision. The Shadow, peering from the curtains, waited for its manifestation.
“Unger,” said Adams, “I am going away for a while. I shall not need you after to-morrow afternoon. You may leave when I go out to dinner to-morrow. I shall pay you during my absence — in fact, I shall pay you in advance. You can visit your family for a while.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Unger. “By the way, sir, shall I call Doctor Shores once more?”
A troubled look flitted over the lawyer’s face. He considered for a moment; then nodded.
“Call him,” he said.
Unger tried the number, with no result.
“I can’t understand it, sir,” he said. “Doctor Shores was very anxious to see you. He said that he would be there positively.”
“I cannot see him tonight,” declared the lawyer. “I am going to bed, Unger. Wake me at the usual hour.”
With millions in his grasp, Hurley Adams had resolved to wait. Why not? Those funds had lain in one spot for more than twenty years. They could remain another night. No one else could learn their resting place for a few days to come — if there were others who knew the secret whereby the millions could be found!
THE SHADOW had divined the lawyer’s decision; but The Shadow had not seen the paper which Adams had read! That paper had been destroyed, unseen by eyes other than the lawyer’s! When the old man had gone upstairs, the peering eyes disappeared. The Shadow was gone.
No visible sign marked The Shadow’s passage through the streets of Holmsford. When the black-clad phantom appeared, he stood before the door of the apartment in which Doctor Felton Shores resided.
Hurley Adams had not considered it important to come here. The Shadow had come in his place!
The door was open. The Shadow entered and reached the closed door of the office. His hand opened the door. A flood of gas surged forth. The Shadow drew the folds of the cloak across his face. Entering, he stood above the body of Doctor Felton Shores.
The hypodermic glimmered on the floor beside the dead physician. The confession lay upon the table.
The hand of The Shadow grasped the paper and carried it away. In less than a minute of quick observation, with breath held in the gas-filled room, The Shadow had made a quick survey of the scene.
The door closed as The Shadow left. In the outer room The Shadow read the confession word by word.
Its sudden break brought a low, grim laugh to The Shadow’s hidden lips.
Suicide might seem obvious; but not to The Shadow. He had seen the sign of crime within that room; had detected the insidious work of fingers of death.
Two ways of suicide; by injection and by gas. Again, The Shadow laughed. He knew the reason why both methods had been employed. The confession in his black-gloved hand ended just before Doctor Felton Shores had inscribed a name. That, to The Shadow, was the sign of crime. For he could supply the name that belonged there! The name of the living murderer!
People would be here shortly. They would find the body of the dead physician, but not the incomplete confession. They would not magnify the guilt of Doctor Felton Shores. His hands were not the ones that bore the fingers of death.
The murderer would think that some friend of the physician had kept the confession from the public. Even without the confession, the case would be classed as suicide.
But The Shadow knew the truth. Fingers of death had taken their final victim. There would be no more!
CHAPTER XXI. AT THE MONUMENT
LATE the next night, a lone figure crept through the secluded gates of the City Cemetery. This man, huddled and furtive, was barely visible in the dim light of the cloudy night. He passed along the edge of the roadway that came through the gates, slinking like a ghoul through this city of the dead.
Directly ahead, the Spanish War Monument raised its dim shaft above the ground. This was the objective that the huddled man was seeking. The prowler reached the base of the monolith and stood there, listening.
Were his ears deceiving him, or did he hear a sound close by? The man paused in alarm. No further sound occurred. The huddled stranger grew more bold. A flashlight glimmered in his hand as he turned its rays upon the plate that was set in the base of the monument.
Four deep-set screws held the plate in place. The prowler was prepared for that. He carefully and methodically removed the screws with a screw driver, and laid them, one by one, beneath the light.
The plate failed to come away. The man fumbled with it, and his breath came in long gulps as he worked.
At length, a catch yielded to his pressure. The plate came away, to show an iron inset.
A thief would only have taken the copper plate; but this man had further designs. Furtively, he worked with the screw driver until he had removed the iron covering. It fell from his grasp, and clanged upon the stone base of the monument.
Swinging, the man faced the roadway, fearing that some one might have been close enough to hear. His nerves were active, and he remained intent. He dared not look into the place that he had opened, until he was sure that he was alone.
A slight sound caught his ear. Sensing the direction from which it had come, the man turned his flashlight upward, at an angle.
His fears were realized as the rays revealed two figures standing near. Then came an answering click.
The brilliant rays of a bull’s-eye lantern flooded the scene.
The discovered men had answered with a powerful illumination that revealed the huddled form at the base of the monument!
There, cringing in the glare, was Hurley Adams. The old lawyer was the intruder who had entered to visit the base of the monument. The hole which he had opened gaped black behind him. His thoughts, now, were of the men who had caught him in his act — those who had come here to watch him uncover the hidden millions!
WHILE one man held the powerful lantern, the other leaped forward with a cry of rage, only to be grasped and withheld by his companion. The old lawyer, gasping piteously, saw above him the face of Willard Saybrook!