The Shadow wrote brief lines. He sealed them in an envelope and left the message where he had found Harry’s report. Silently, the tall shape merged with the darkness beyond the window. The Shadow had gone.
Later, a sardonic laugh rippled from a spot along the hillside, not far from where the old bell-tower stood. The Shadow had returned to the mysterious thickness of the night.
CHAPTER XV
THE LAW CONFERS
ON the next afternoon, a group of men were assembled in the meeting room at the Torburg town hall. Sheriff Locke and Coroner Thomas were there; also the deputies whom Locke had placed as guards at Beauchamp’s home.
Besides these representatives of the law, another was present. This was Galt Jornal, the county prosecutor.
Jornal had come to Torburg to make a complete investigation of the latest murder. He had summoned all who might furnish clues to the death of Willis Beauchamp. In addition, Jornal had requested the presence of Abner Zangwald, to represent the board of selectmen. Zangwald, in turn, had invited Louis Vandrow to the conference.
The county prosecutor was a bluff individual. He liked to get results; and he believed that slipshod methods had permitted crime in Torburg. When he called the conference to order, his first act was to read over reports that he had received from the sheriff and the coroner. That done, Jornal came down to business.
“We’ll center on the case of Willis Beauchamp,” declared the prosecutor. “First off, Beauchamp was afraid for his life. Reason: because he had been closely associated with the two men who were slain. That’s clear enough for all, I think.
“Beauchamp wanted a guard around his place. He got it. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to clear out, to go to New York. Maybe he thought he’d be safer there. Anyway, he stated as his reason that he had received a long distance call from New York. Am I right on that point?”
“Yes,” replied Zangwald. “Beauchamp called me and said that he wanted to leave for New York. He proposed the manner in which he intended to depart.”
“He talked to me afterward,” corroborated Locke. “Told me just what he’d told Mr. Zangwald. It was over the telephone — after I came to Mr. Zangwald’s home. I called Beauchamp from there.”
“Very well.” The prosecutor became emphatic. “Let’s continue that matter further. Who was it that called Beauchamp from New York? You don’t know, do you? You don’t even know whether or not he really received a call from New York. You can’t prove that he received any calls at his home, can you?”
“We can’t prove that he didn’t,” observed Zangwald, dryly.
“Granted,” was Jornal’s retort, “but we’re dealing in facts — not suppositions. All we actually do know is that you, Zangwald, talked with Beauchamp by your own testimony. And that Locke here talked with him later. By Locke’s testimony and yours, Zangwald, because you were present when Locke called Beauchamp.”
“Somebody called Beauchamp,” put in one of the deputies. “I know — because I was on guard at the side of the house. I heard the bell ringing inside.”
“When was that?” demanded Jornal.
“Early in the evening,” replied the deputy. “About nine o’clock, I reckon.”
“Was that your call?” questioned Jornal, turning to Zangwald.
“I didn’t call Beauchamp,” returned the bushy-browed man. “He called me. Look at the report sheet, Mr. Jornal.”
The prosecutor nodded. Then he turned to the deputy. He eyed the man severely.
“About nine o’clock,” remarked Jornal. “That’s the time you heard the phone bell ring. Did you hear it later? At the time when Sheriff Locke put in his call?”
“No,” returned the deputy, “but I wasn’t at the side of the house much after nine o’clock. We were kind of patrolling the place, later in the night.”
“I see. Did anyone else hear a telephone bell ring from inside Beauchamp’s house?”
No response.
“Hm-m-m,” mused Jornal. “Well, it looks like Beauchamp got a call from somewhere. But maybe it wasn’t from New York, Maybe it wasn’t of any consequence. That’s where we’re stumped.”
“Why so?” questioned Zangwald, in his rumble. “It appears to me that the matter of the telephone call is irrelevant. What is it’s bearing on the case?”
“We want to know the exact reason why Beauchamp acted the way he did” explained Jornal. “Maybe it was a freak idea of his own. But maybe” — the prosecutor paused emphatically — “maybe somebody called him up and talked him into putting himself in a trap.”
THIS came as a new theory. The looks that the listeners exchanged were proof that they saw the point that Jornal had presented. Before anyone else spoke the prosecutor added another comment.
“It might have worked either way,” he asserted. “Some friend might have double-crossed Beauchamp. Talked about him getting out of town. Suggested ways and means. On the other hand an enemy could have called him. Threatened him. Ordered him to get out of town or die. That would have worked.”
“A few moments ago,” put in Zangwald casually, “you said that we should deal in facts not in suppositions. Just what are you discussing at present?”
“I’ll talk facts” retorted the prosecutor angrily. “I’ll tell you what I think about Beauchamp’s death. I’ll tell you that the people in this town are dunder-heads to let crime happen right under their noses!
“Three men have been murdered. All by one killer. Don’t shout ‘supposition’ at me this time. The cases are too much alike. You can’t dodge that fact. Dunwell’s death was excusable. Nobody knew it was coming. Hosker’s was something that shouldn’t have happened. Locke should have guarded the man.
“But Beauchamp — well, letting him get killed was the biggest blunder ever pulled in this county! He was safe in his house. He shouldn’t have been allowed to get out. Nevertheless, Beauchamp is dead. What I’m going to do is analyze his death.”
The prosecutor paused to cough. He stood up and crinkled the report sheets between his hands. Then in the manner of an orator he continued:
“There’s only one place where the murder could have occurred. That was in the garage. The killer got there ahead of Beauchamp — laid for him in the limousine — shot him. That shows we’re dealing with a mighty bold customer. It also proves your men were dead on their feet, sheriff.”
“Why?” demanded Locke.
“Because they didn’t hear the shot in the garage,” retorted Jornal.
“We weren’t near the garage,” objected a deputy. “We stayed away from it, on purpose.”
“Sure,” put in another, “and those doors are thick. They slide together so close you couldn’t get a razor blade between ‘em. If Beauchamp was shot in the garage, it ain’t no wonder we didn’t hear it.”
“That will be enough,” rebuked the prosecutor. “I see by reports that Beauchamp’s chauffeur did not turn on the lights in the garage. Apparently, he did not realize that murder had been done before his arrival. He drove from the garage carrying a corpse in his car.”
“Then why,” questioned Zangwald, “was a car blockading the road to Lewisport? Why did the deputies find dying men who looked like mobsters? They were certainly posted there to make trouble for Beauchamp.”
“I agree with that,” said the prosecutor. “Furthermore, the reason for the mobsters is easily explained. Either the murderer feared that he would fail to gain the opportunity of murdering Beauchamp in the garage; or he wanted to cover up his work by making it appear that Beauchamp had been slain later, on the road.”
THE prosecutor had spoken in logical fashion. His words brought nods from coroner and sheriff. Vandrow appeared speculative; while Zangwald looked somewhat doubtful. Finally the lawyer registered his agreement and Zangwald nodded slowly.