The Shadow lingered; then edged forward from the darkness beside the porch. He reached the door and found it unlatched. Softly, he entered to a hallway.
Beyond curtains, The Shadow saw lights that indicated Knode’s parlor. He peered into an old-fashioned room. He saw the editor offering cigars to the reporters.
“IT’S too late to go to the museum,” stated Knode, as he lighted his cigar. “Rubal will be gone. Well, I’ll see him tomorrow. If he’s got anything worth while to say, I’ll hear it in time for the edition.”
He paused; then inquired sharply. “Where’ve you fellows been this evening?”
“Down at the Phoenix Hotel,” replied Drury. “Talking with Konk Zitz. Couple of new pals blew in to join him.
“Was Grewling there?”
“No. Some of his men were, though.”
“Humph! I wonder why Grewling wasn’t there. I thought he’d be keeping tabs himself, tonight. Well, I guess he’ll be there later.”
Knode walked restlessly across the room; then sat down in a chair.
“It irks me,” he asserted, “this fact that I overslept. I should have seen Rubal tonight. Instead, I didn’t get a chance to leave the house. I was caught napping, literally.”
With that statement, Harrison Knode dropped the subject and settled down to a casual chat with his reporters. But Clyde Burke could not dispel a lurking suspicion that Bridget had been correct when she had stated that Knode had gone out at eight o’clock.
Whether or not Knode had told the truth was a matter that continued to perplex Clyde. It was something that he intended to put in his report to The Shadow. Clyde wondered what his chief’s finding would be. The Shadow had a way of divining the false from the true; even when he worked on information from others.
Clyde Burke would have been amazed had he known that The Shadow had already studied the merits of Knode’s statements. Listening from the hall, that cloaked watcher had heard all that the editor had said. Moreover, he had noted Knode’s expression when the man had talked.
The Shadow had dropped Konk Zitz, knowing that Cliff Marsland could watch that fellow. Right now, he was dropping Harrison Knode, leaving further observation of the editor to Clyde Burke. A new, uncovered lead was the one that The Shadow intended to follow.
Knode’s front door closed softly as The Shadow stole out into darkness. Swiftly, stealthily, the cloaked phantom headed townward.
A soft whisper drifted through the darkness. The Shadow had yet to learn of murder at the museum. Yet he had already gained important impressions concerning two persons in Latuna namely, Konk Zitz and Harrison Knode.
CHAPTER XII
MORE MEN MOVE
TEN minutes after The Shadow had left Harrison Knode’s, a figure strode from the Phoenix Hotel. It was Police Chief Grewling. The official had paid a brief visit to the hotel in order to hear reports from his men.
A coupe was parked just past the lighted front of the hotel. The car was Grewling’s; in businesslike fashion, the official entered the coupe and took the wheel. He started the motor and shifted the gear.
Gleaming eyes from darkness. They had watched the police chief’s exit from the hotel. The Shadow, arriving, had stopped at sight of Grewling’s gold-braided uniform. The police chief’s love of tinsel trappings made him easily recognizable.
As the coupe started, blackness swept forward. With long, swift stride, The Shadow gained the rear of the moving car. His shape blended with the curve of its body. Invisible above the rear light, The Shadow was accompanying the police chief to some destination.
For The Shadow had done more than recognize the police chief. He had analyzed Grewling’s stride; he had divined that the official was bound on some important mission. Grewling, like Zitz and Knode, was a factor in the odd medley of counterpurposes that existed in Latuna. The Shadow saw opportunity to gain an inkling of the police chief’s ways.
Grewling drove rapidly through secluded streets, totally unaware of the mysterious rider perched at the rear of his car. After half a dozen minutes, he pulled up in front of a large stone house. The door was open; a servant was standing there. Grewling called out to learn if Mayor Rush happened to be at home.
“I expect him any minute, sir,” informed the menial. “He said something about an appointment here, at nine o’clock.”
“It’s after nine now.”
Lights swung from the corner in front of the coupe. Grewling, using his prerogative as police chief, had parked on the left. The arriving car, a sedan, stopped on the right, its lights glaring into those of Grewling’s coupe.
It was the mayor’s car. Rush alighted and came pompously to the door of Grewling’s coupe. He nodded to the police chief and beckoned to the servant, who came from the house door. The Shadow made no move from his perch at the rear of the coupe.
He could see a uniformed policeman who had alighted from the mayor’s car. He knew that this must be an officer whom Grewling had detailed as Rush’s chauffeur, the mayor’s car being an official one. From his absolute concealment, The Shadow could hear Rush speaking. The mayor was addressing the servant who had come from the house:
“Any callers, Adams?”
“No, sir. Mr. Malden telephoned, though, a short while ago.”
“I see. Let’s go up to Malden’s, Grewling. We can ride in your car. I told Malden I might be up to see him along about nine o’clock.” Then, to the servant. “I’ll leave my sedan here; if Mr. Rubal calls, Adams, tell him that my chauffeur will bring him up to Mr. Malden’s.”
“Very well, sir.”
THE SHADOW made no motion while Rush was entering the coupe. Grewling started the machine; it shot rapidly from the curb and skirted Rush’s sedan so swiftly that neither Adams nor the chauffeur spied the figure clinging to the rear of the coupe.
As the car swung the corner, The Shadow performed a difficult maneuver. He came head-first over the fender at the right rear of the coupe. Flattened there, his shoulders were just in back of the opened window beside Mayor Rush. As the coupe rolled through darkness, The Shadow could overhear all that passed between mayor and police chief. “I lost track of time at the office,” explained Rush. “I shall have that wall clock fixed some day. It stopped around eight. I did not know how late it was. Where were you this evening, Grewling?”
“Checking on the Phoenix Hotel. Knode ought to be satisfied. I had eight men watching the lobby. None of those crooks went out of the place.”
“It is within your authority to watch the hotel, Grewling; but remember: I did not order it. I think you made a mistake.”
“Why?”
“Knode will lampoon anything you do. Mark my words on that, Grewling. The best policy with Knode is to ignore him.”
“But, to-day, his paper said—”
“I know. Just a wedge for more muckraking. I thought there might be a large crowd at the dedication exercises. That is why I ordered a large detail. The men were available; there was no reason why you could not have supplied them.”
“Certainly. They were mostly traffic officers who had no duty until afternoon.”
“But Knode saw a chance for empty talk. Well, Grewling, I took it up with Dunham, of the Gazette. His journal will run a suitable story tomorrow, with photographs of the museum and the Blue Sphinx.”
The mayor cleared his throat; then added:
“Forget Knode for a while, Grewling. Watch the Phoenix Hotel for a few days longer at the most. Remember, Grewling, if I took Knode too seriously, you would not be holding your job to-day.”
The Shadow, peering through the edge of the coupe window, saw Grewling shift uneasily. The police chief darted a glance at the mayor, then looked toward the road and slowed the coupe in order to turn into a driveway just ahead.