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:
A voice spoke from behind the lantern. Harry Vincent was restraining his companion.
“Easy, Saybrook!” was his warning. “Remember our agreement! We only came here to watch the man who entered! Speak to him, but avoid all violence.”
Saybrook nodded. He stood and glowered at the old lawyer. He could not desist from uttering the words that were on his lips.
“Murderer!” accused Saybrook. “So that was your game! To keep the millions for yourself! You told me enough truth to make me keep silence. You told Mahinda to put me out of the way. You killed Doctor Shores because you thought he knew too much!”
“No! No!” bleated Adams. “I did not! When I learned that Shores was dead, to-day, I thought that he had committed suicide. I thought that he had done those crimes; then weakened for fear of discovery! I thought that my life had been spared. I came here — not to rob — but to learn if the wealth were really here.”
“You lie—”
Harry Vincent interrupted Saybrook’s outburst.
“Hear him out,” said Harry quietly. “Remember, the orders are not to molest whoever comes.”
Saybrook subsided. He realized his mistake.
Tonight, Harry Vincent had brought him here, telling him that this was the spot where the seekers for wealth would come. How had Harry known? Saybrook wondered. He knew, however, that Harry followed the orders of a mysterious chief — the one to whom Saybrook actually owned his life.
“I am innocent,” protested Adams. “I told you everything Saybrook. These crimes have maddened me. Tell me — if you knew of this spot, some one must have told you! Is the money here?”
The lawyer suddenly realized that the answer lay behind him. He half rose and stared into the cavity beneath the monument. The rays of Harry’s lantern turned to show the space.
A cry came from the old lawyer. The cache within the monument was empty!
“Gone! Gone!” There was despair in the old man’s voice. “Gone! When I had resolved to do right; to discover the stolen wealth; to make known its hiding place! The others all have died. I would be betraying no one but myself!”
Willard Saybrook was amazed. He could tell from the old man’s tone that Hurley Adams was sincere.
He realized that his original trust had not been misplaced.
Adams, forgetful of all else, was groping through the space where he had hoped to find the hidden millions.
A large opening, it was sufficient in size to have held the contents of a vault. The old man’s hands found a flat object. They drew it forth — an envelope.
While Harry Vincent and Willard Saybrook watched him, the old man slowly brought the envelope into the light. In large letters, it bore the name:
HURLEY ADAMS, ESQ.
“This is for me,” the old lawyer declared simply. “I shall open it.”
He followed with the action. A folded note was the result. Hurley Adams spread it and read its written lines.
A strange change came over the old attorney. First he registered amazement; then dread; at last, his face took on a sudden dignity. Standing erect, Hurley Adams spoke in a firm tone.
“I am wrong, gentlemen,” he said. “My obligation is not yet ended. You must understand my position. However mistaken I may have been, I accepted a trust imposed by others. My duty lies before me. I must go.”
“One moment,” interrupted Harry, in a quiet tone. “We, too, have a duty, Adams. Our instructions are to accompany you. Only under that condition can you go.”
“You will let me fulfill my obligation?” questioned Adams. “No matter how strange a one it may be?”
“Yes.”
“I trust you, Saybrook,” said Adams quietly. “You are the only man to whom I revealed the secret which I held for decades. I shall trust you now. Can you vouch for your companion?”
“Yes,” responded Saybrook.
“Had I come here unobserved,” Adams announced, “I would surely have abided by the instructions in this envelope. The man whose writing I have read knows well that I never would go against my word. But since you discovered me, there is no other way. Come with me, gentlemen. I ask only that you do as I request when we have reached our destination.”
Together, the three men replaced the plates that hid the opening in the monument. Hurley Adams was silent. He had learned an amazing fact. Willard Saybrook was puzzled. He no longer doubted Adams.
He wondered what the old man had learned. Harry Vincent knew only that, somehow, The Shadow had found this place. He was sure that the contents of that note were known to The Shadow. For The Shadow had ordered him to bring Willard Saybrook here this night.
Their short work finished, the trio walked from the cemetery. Hurley Adams had come on foot. He joined Harry Vincent and Willard Saybrook in Harry’s car.
“My instructions,” said Harry quietly, “are to take you where you wish to go. What is your destination?”
Willard Saybrook stared in astonishment when he heard the old lawyer’s reply.
“We will go,” stated Hurley Adams, “to the home of Josiah Bartram.”
CHAPTER XXII. FOES FROM THE CRYPT
THE Bartram mansion seemed deserted when the coupe pulled up on the street before it. Not a light gleamed from any window.
Hurley Adams was unperturbed. He led the way up the walk, and turned the knob of the front door. The door opened, and the old lawyer entered the hall, with Harry and Saybrook following.
Familiar with the place, Adams needed no light. He went directly to the back of the hall, turned into the passage, and stopped at the top of the little steps that led to the old workroom.
“You will wait here,” he suggested. “I am to enter alone. Stay in the darkness. I shall leave the door ajar. I must be fair to all concerned.”
Both Harry and Saybrook expressed their agreement. Hurley Adams went down the steps. He opened the door, which was unlocked.
True to his word, the lawyer left the door ajar. The room within was lighted, and those outside could see the old lawyer as he walked to the table, which was now set at the side of the room.
There was a box on the table. It bore an electric push button. Hurley Adams pressed three times. He went to a chair, seated himself, and waited with quiet dignity.
Minutes drifted by. Harry Vincent watched with unconcern. Willard Saybrook was tense.
At last there came an answer to the strange summons. The trapdoor opened in the floor. A stooped form emerged and turned to close the trap behind him. The man stood erect and swung to face Hurley Adams.
Willard Saybrook barely repressed a cry of horrified amazement as he clutched Harry Vincent’s arm.
There, in the center of the room, stood the living form of a man who had been buried as dead. Josiah Bartram, in the flesh!
With yellowish skin, long-fingered hands and face that resembled parchment, the old contractor had the appearance of a resurrected corpse. His face gleamed with an evil smile of insidious triumph as it turned toward Hurley Adams. The lawyer, however, was calm.
“YOU are not surprised to see me, Hurley?” questioned the old contractor, in a crackling voice.
“Not since I received your message,” responded Adams. “The situation began to lighten then.”
“You must have been surprised when you read it,” leered Bartram. “Telling you to come to this room; to ring the bell for me. Telling you that, dead or alive, I would respond to your summons.”
“Where have you been, Josiah?” questioned Adams.
“In my grave!” crackled Bartram. “In a very pleasant grave. A mausoleum makes excellent sleeping quarters, Hurley. Particularly when one has a servant so capable and so faithful as Mahinda. He is in my abode at present. I had not expected you tonight; nevertheless, I had prepared for your visit.”