Searching the files, The Shadow came upon various papers that referred to the museum. Studying them swiftly in the light of the filing room, he noticed certain gaps. One notation referred to a temporary delay during a period of inspection. There was no paper, however, that told of the inspection itself.
This date was prior to the completion of the museum as it now stood; before the final day when the lower vault was bricked and the museum completed in its temporary form, for visits by the public.
The Shadow also found reference to three sets of plans. Referring to another folder, he discovered only two sets that showed the details of the museum. Where was the third? Had it been taken at the time of the murder? If so, why?
The Shadow studied the list of collections that had been donated to the museum. Barnaby Soyer’s treasures were in a separate file. The ones that concerned The Shadow were the gifts now on display in the exhibition rooms.
Most of these had been promised prior to the completion of the museum. The various exhibit rooms had been arranged for their reception. The curios in the Medieval Room had been presented by a group of private collectors.
The statues in the Antiquity Room had been gained by a civic appropriation which Mayor Quirby Rush had arranged as the first act of his administration. There had already been an incomplete fund raised by private citizens; the city funds had completed it.
STRAFFORD MALDEN had promised the Blue Sphinx at the time when the plans of the museum were under consideration. Importation had been arranged with the Egyptian authorities; and the pedestal had been built to the proper dimensions. Correspondence between Joseph Rubal and agents in Cairo showed that red tape had caused delay in the shipment of the sphinx.
The small exhibit rooms appeared supplementary to the carefully arranged plans. Their nondescript collections had been gathered while the construction was under way.
Studying the plans, The Shadow could readily see why the addition of wings and the proposed Modern Room offered problems. No exact provision had been made for their construction. Harrison Knode’s criticism of Rubal’s delay in completing plans for additions did not appear justified.
The Shadow’s study of existing documents came to a sudden finish. Replacing folders, closing drawers, The Shadow prepared to leave. He turned out the lights and departed. Advancing rapidly along the corridor, he reached the Medieval Room and entered it just in time.
Footsteps told that the patrolling watchers were going to the far ends of the museum to begin another inspection. The Shadow waited until footfalls had died. He headed for the Sphinx Room. Entering the anteroom, he locked the doors behind him; he came into the Sphinx Room itself and clicked the inner doors.
The policemen had not attempted to inspect the Sphinx Room. Its doors — presumably locked — were guarantee that no one could be lurking there. But should an officer happen to try those doors, he would now find them locked.
Looking about the moonlit room, The Shadow picked the spot between the pillars as the proper place for ascent by means of his suction disks. The smooth surface offered some difficulty, so far as proper adhesion was concerned. But a momentary failure of the suction disks would create no hazard. Between the pillars, The Shadow could brake himself as he had before.
That settled, The Shadow turned to the center of the room. Above the level of his eyes loomed the face of the Blue Sphinx. Solemn, unsmiling, with strangely carved eyes, that ancient monolith seemed lost in meditation. The eyes, by a freak of the moonlight, looked as if staring downward. Squarely into those carven optics burned the gaze of The Shadow. The Sphinx, famed in fable as a propounder of unanswerable riddles, was faced by the master of all sleuths.
The Blue Sphinx! From the correspondence in the curator’s office, The Shadow had learned the history of this stone monster. A relic of the Eighteenth Dynasty, this statue was but one of many sphinxes that studded the broad expanses of the Libyan Desert.
In Libya, lesser sphinxes of this sort were common enough among the desert sands. It required removal to give them the dignity for which they were reputed. Here, in Latuna; this lone Blue Sphinx was regarded as unique.
Crouched on the pedestal that formed part of the tiled floor, anchored immovable by virtue of its five-ton bulk, the Blue Sphinx seemed stately enough to be the keeper of some important secret.
The thought brought a soft, mirthless laugh from the hidden lips of The Shadow. Double murder had struck in this museum. He knew that those killings were but a part of crime. Evil had preceded death. Now evil was slated to follow.
The cloaked form turned toward the wall, as The Shadow prepared for his departure. Again the whispered laugh, significant in its sardonic tones. The Shadow had divined the riddle of the Blue Sphinx.
CHAPTER XV
THE LULL ENDS
“WHAT do you think of it, Burke?”
“It’s a wow, Drury!”
“I told you the old man would rip loose.”
“He’s done it, all right!”
Clyde Burke and Bart Drury were seated in the “local” room of the Latuna Enterprise, reading the latest copy of the newspaper, just off the press. One week had passed since the murder of Rubal and Hollis. During that period, Harrison Knode had remained calm. At last, however, the belligerent editor had broken loose with an article that was calculated to raise hob.
“Let’s go in and see the old man,” suggested Drury to Clyde. “He always feels chesty after he pounds out a broadside like this one. Come along; follow my cue.”
The two reporters knocked at Knode’s door. Summoned to come in, they entered. Harrison Knode, in shirt sleeves and vest, looked up beneath his green celluloid visor. He laid pencil and copy paper aside.
“Well?” he questioned.
Drury swaggered to the desk, leaned across and thrust out his hand. Knode shook it. Clyde stepped up and also clasped hands with the editor. Knode looked pleased.
“You sure cracked the ice, boss,” complimented Drury. “Say — I knew you were cooking up something big. I was itching to ask you what the slant would be. But I managed to hold in until it came out in the sheet.”
“It was great, boss,” added Clyde.
“I thought it would click,” declared Knode, leaning back in his swivel chair and tucking his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. “I figured that our good mayor and his red-faced police chief would be due for another slam. But the problem was to give it the right twist.”
“So you reversed the field,” chuckled Drury.
“That describes it,” nodded Knode. He laid his forefinger upon the opened page of a newspaper that was on his desk. “Now that I’ve run the editorial, I’ll let you fellows in on the way I came around to it. Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure thing,” responded Drury.
Clyde nodded.
“WELL,” explained Knode, “I used to slam Rubal when he was still alive. I had to lay off that after he was murdered. What’s more, Grewling had spiked me by putting men on watch at the Phoenix Hotel. I couldn’t land on him while the murder was still hot news. And I had to lay off Rush, too.
“Grewling had scored one on me. He was watching that bunch of crooks at the Phoenix on the night of Rubal’s murder. So he had proved that they were not concerned in the crime. He had me stopped. But I gave him time. He did just what I thought he would do. He kept watching those rowdies at the Phoenix and he’s still got the best part of the force on that job.
“So to-day, I had my inspiration. I wrote that editorial and entitled it ‘The Wrong Stable.’ I started with the old adage of watching the stable after the horse is stolen. That referred, of course, to the Latuna Museum.