“Hello… Hello… What is that?” Walpin had gained connection with the hotel that he was calling. “Yes, I am inquiring for Lord Blossington… Really, there must be some mistake… No, no, I am positive.
“I spoke to his secretary only yesterday… But he assured me that Lord Blossington was there… Positively… My name is Michael Walpin… Yes, and I would be pleased to have you learn what you can about this hoax…”
“A hoax?” The question came from Wainwright Barth, as Walpin hung up the receiver in dejected fashion. “Did I hear you rightly, Mr. Walpin?”
Barth had put on his spectacles; he was glaring through the lenses, his eyes gleaming with eagerness.
Barth’s great delight lay in tracking down persons who perpetrated hoaxes.
“Yes,” nodded Walpin, seriously. “Lord Blossington is not at the Hotel Marlingstone. Apparently he has not been there at all. I have been duped, commissioner!”
“Outrageous!” exclaimed Barth. “Particularly since the matter concerns your pearls. We shall trace this imposition, Mr. Walpin. We shall discover the scoundrel who has hoodwinked you. I promise that—”
Barth broke off. A clock was delivering the stroke of half past nine; but it was not that sound that startled the commissioner. Barth was staring toward the curtained doorway at the front of the room. He had heard stealthy footsteps.
A curtain was brushed aside. On the threshold stood a masked man, stalwart of build, his features fully covered by the bandanna handkerchief that he had used to hide them. The intruder’s eyes showed through holes in the cloth; his right hand was raised, holding a leveled revolver.
THE SHADOW’S arms went up. The gesture brought prompt duplication. Barth and Walpin both copied the example. The man on the threshold delivered a jeering growl.
“Back up there,” he ordered. “Keep them dukes high! I’m taking a look for these pearls I’ve been hearing about!”
The Shadow’s eyes were directly on the painting that covered the secret panel. The masked man saw the direction of the gaze. With a gruff laugh, he advanced and placed his hand against the painting.
Walpin gasped aloud. Barth stared, glowering as he fumed. Only The Shadow, calm in the guise of Cranston, remained unperturbed. His lips were straight; his eyes steady. To The Shadow, this masked arrival was not an unexpected one.
A well-timed hour had ended. The Shadow had started action at half past eight; he had awaited the climax due half past nine. For the masked robber had come here at his bidding; secretly, The Shadow planned to aid him in his rifling of Michael Walpin’s wall safe.
CHAPTER VI. COMPLETED THEFT
DOWN — up — down — then to the left.
Such was the motion of The Shadow’s eyes, those steady orbs that peered from the countenance of Lamont Cranston. Directly focused toward the masked man at the wall safe, The Shadow’s signal was spied by the intruder alone.
Barth and Walpin could not observe their companion’s eyes, for they stood beside him. Moreover, their alarmed gaze was centered upon the painting that the masked burglar was manipulating.
With right hand gripping gun, the intruder used his left to operate the panel. His manipulations were accurate; he did not even look away from the trio whom he held at bay. The panel swung open. Walpin blurted an indignant cry.
“No noise there,” snarled the robber. “Keep them dukes high, like I told you!”
Hands moved upward, almost instinctively. The Shadow acted as did Barth and Walpin. But with it, he performed another action, unobserved by those two who were watching the robber.
The Shadow’s left hand showed three fingers. His right opened slowly to five. Then the left spread slowly to show five; at the same time the right showed two: seven fingers. Finally, one lone finger extended from the right.
Three — five — seven — one.
The masked man had caught the surreptitious signals. His left hand operated the knob of the safe door.
Three to the left; five to the right; seven to the left; one to the right. The safe swung open.
A groan from Walpin as the robber removed the casket. A warning growl from the masked man. Walpin silenced. The robber tilted the casket with his left hand; its cover came open to reveal the array of velvet-backed pearls.
Striking in the whole display was the famed Blue Pearl. Michael Walpin’s eyes stared fixedly. His whole gaze was upon that single prize.
To The Shadow, the showing was satisfactory. Walpin had accepted the imitations as being his collection. The Shadow’s head inclined. The robber clicked the casket shut.
Tucking the box under his right arm, he deliberately produced a bandanna from his pocket and wiped the front of the wall safe as he shut it. He closed the panel and performed a similar action. Backing across the room, he shifted the casket from beneath his right arm. With a slight toss of his left hand, he caught it under his left elbow.
Bandanna over his left hand, the burglar prepared to press out the light switch. Then he paused and gave a new command, its gruffness different from before.
“In front of a window,” he ordered. “Each of you. Let your dukes come down; but not all the way.”
Gingerly, each person followed orders. Barth and Walpin backed to windows at the rear. The Shadow stood five paces away from the window, at the side. The burglar seemed satisfied. He pressed the light switch.
“I’m sticking here,” came a growl in the darkness. “Sticking close to watch you. There ain’t no hurry. Keep the way you are.”
BARTH and Walpin heard those gruff tones from the front of the room. They would have sworn that the burglar was speaking. They were wrong. It was The Shadow who now spoke; his words came from the unmoving lips of Lamont Cranston.
Dim figures against the slight light of windows. Such were all three who had raised their hands at the masked man’s entry. The Shadow, like Barth and Walpin, still held his arms half raised while he spoke.
The others could not see his lips; even if they had, they would not have believed that the growled orders were from those motionless lips. A pause; once more The Shadow spoke in roughened tones.
“I’m going to watch you,” came his growl. “Any funny business with them dukes means curtains! Get me?”
A figure was creeping cautiously through to the passage that led to the front of the apartment. It was that of the masked man. He could not be seen in the darkness. The Shadow’s faked growl covered the slight noise of the intruder’s exit.
Lights were out in the front. The masked man had attended to them. He had entered through unlatched doors, below and above. The Shadow had prepared them when he entered as Cranston.
It was a perfect get-away, timed to nine-forty. The Shadow could see the exact minute by the luminous dial of his wrist watch, which shone from his upraised arm. He let two minutes glide; then growled again:
“Don’t fool yourselves, you mugs! I’ve told you there ain’t no hurry. You won’t be guessing it when I move out.”
More slow minutes. Weary arms had sagged, and were resting, almost lowered. Then came a gruff challenge. The Shadow thrust his arms upward in response to his own pretense. Barth and Walpin acted with immediate haste.
“All right, mugs.” The Shadow’s growl carried a laugh. “Let ‘em rest. Down low. I can spot ‘em; and I’m telling you that the first guy to act funny will get rubbed out.”
Arms came down, but figures remained rigid. The growled threat had been a strong one. More minutes ticked by; The Shadow’s watch showed eight minutes of ten. He voiced another harsh-toned warning.
One more minute. The Shadow delivered a harsh laugh, another semblance of the masked robber’s presence. The watch showed six minutes to the hour. The Shadow spoke quietly, in the tone of Lamont Cranston.