SOME one had unquestionably been investigating the unsolved crimes. Some one had been over the ground and had gained these clews.
The identity of the mysterious investigator answered a question that had long been in Cardona’s mind: namely, the whereabouts of that strange personage known as The Shadow.
The Shadow!
He had aided Cardona in the past — this crime fighter whom Commissioner Weston preferred to regard as a myth. Was he helping Cardona now? No one but The Shadow would have arranged the secret delivery of this packet to Cardona’s desk. A sudden enlightenment dawned upon the detective.
The crimes of The Death Giver had taxed even The Shadow’s power! Otherwise, the rule of terror would have ended following the murder of Henry Bellew. The Shadow, seeking The Death Giver, had been unable to assist Cardona until the stage was set for action.
Well did Cardona know that The Shadow did not need the aid of the police. Great crimes had been prevented by The Shadow; heavy scores had been settled by the mysterious avenger. But The Shadow had always shown a proclivity for letting the police take credit for the solving of the crimes which concerned them.
To meet The Death Giver — to destroy the fiend — that was a mission which Cardona believed The Shadow had undertaken. In the culmination of that mission, The Shadow was, in all probability, willing that Joe Cardona should gain a triumph.
The Shadow favored all those who were opposed to crime. Cardona, at headquarters, had been useful to The Shadow. Cardona, no longer a detective, would no longer be a figure in the ceaseless warfare against those who sought to thwart the law.
Cardona settled back into his chair. He knew that this evidence was The Shadow’s doing. He realized that The Shadow would expect him to know.
His resignation had been asked. It would not be wanted if Cardona gained results between now and tomorrow noon. Why go to Commissioner Weston or Detective Klein? In a sense, they were no longer Cardona’s superiors.
In the approaching hours, so the detective decided, he would be working for a new and unknown chief — The Shadow! The facts concerning a criminal called The Death Giver were a definite hint that he should wait for more. Here was the place to wait; here, where The Shadow could reach him.
An hour went by, and still Cardona lingered. The telephone bell rang. Cardona plucked the instrument from the desk. He was confident that he would hear the tones of a strange, mysterious voice, giving him instructions which he would be wise to follow.
The last chance! Cardona was staking all upon The Shadow!
CHAPTER XX. THADE ORDAINS
GREEN gloom pervaded the lair of Thade, The Death Giver. Seated upon his dais, the master killer was staring toward the door that led to the anteroom. He had just received the signal from Paul Roderick at the bottom of the elevator shaft.
Thade waited, as though counting seconds. His Nubian servants were like statues on — either side. With a fierce display of his fanglike teeth, Thade pressed a switch beside his chair. The portal raised, and Paul Roderick strode into the room, the open door of the elevator showing behind him.
The green glow made all faces appear strange. Paul Roderick’s countenance was not visible in its usual details. That was not unexpected by Thade. The Death Giver preferred this weird light because it enabled his ghoulish face to glow more effectively. To Thade, life was a tragic drama in which he loved the role of villain.
Roderick paused before the master’s chair. Something in his manner told Thade that plans had gone amiss. The Death Giver scowled.
“The scheme has failed,” asserted Roderick.
“Failed?” questioned Thade sharply. “Failed? Thade, The Death Giver, never fails!”
“It was the work of a traitor,” insisted Roderick. “Harlan Treffin—”
Thade leered fiendishly. He gazed at Roderick sharply, and asked a fierce, challenging question.
“You delivered death to Treffin?”
“No.”
Thade’s claws gripped the arms of the chair. The Death Giver half arose as though to hurl himself upon his lieutenant. Amid that display of surging wrath, Roderick’s suave voice put forth an explanation.
“The punishment of the traitor,” he declared, “should lie in the hands of Thade, The Death Giver. If I bring Treffin from below—”
A gloating light shone in Thade’s eyes. This statement from Paul Roderick had been a timely one. It turned Thade’s mind from thoughts of futile effort to those of evil vengeance.
“You have captured the traitor!” exclaimed The Death Giver. “Ah! That is to my liking. Tell me no more. After we have dealt with him we can make new plans. My glass-covered coffin is empty. Harlan Treffin shall be its new incumbent!”
The Death Giver saw Paul Roderick motion toward the door. Thade nodded and pressed the switch that raised the black portal. Roderick went into the anteroom. Thade dropped the door behind him.
LONG minutes went by. Roderick did not return. Thade, sitting silently upon the dais, realized that his lieutenant had not stated how long it would require to bring the traitor. At last, a small light glowed beside the chair. It was the signal that Roderick was at the elevator shaft. Thade pressed the switch that sent the lift on its downward journey.
After waiting the proper time, Thade emitted a gleeful chuckle. Roderick and Treffin must be at the top by now. They would be waiting in the anteroom. Thade pressed the switch and the black portal ascended.
A squad of men burst into the room. Foremost among them was Detective Joe Cardona.
Flourishing revolvers, the detectives covered Thade and his Nubians so quickly that resistance was impossible. With hands half-raised, The Death Giver glowered at his enemies.
Standing in the center of the room, backed by half a dozen detectives, Cardona saw that he was master of the situation. He suspected a dangerous trap; and his caution told him that further advance would be a mistake. It was better to hold the prisoners at bay until this strange man in the chair had spoken. Well did Cardona know that precipitous action might bring disaster.
“Who are you?” came Thade’s hissing question. “By what right are you here?”
“We are here in the name of the law,” was Cardona’s answer. “We are here to arrest the man who calls himself The Death Giver.”
“I am Thade, The Death Giver.”
There was a pause; then Cardona, quietly relaxing, spoke gruff words. He watched Thade, to note the effect.
“We’ve got the goods on you,” declared the detective. “We’ve got the cards you sent to Bellew; we’ve got the letters you sent to Langhorne. You’ve been double-crossed. We came here on a tip-off. Rang the bell of that trick elevator, and came up when you invited us.”
“I am your prisoner, then,” said Thade, in a lowered tone.
“You guessed it,” retorted Cardona. “Slide out of that chair, and no monkey business. Come on — make it snappy! Walk up here.”
Cardona jingled a pair of handcuffs in his left hand. He saw Thade as an easy one to handle. The green walls and the tufted carpet — such bits of atmosphere meant nothing after the few minutes it took to get used to them.
Cardona laughed gruffly as he saw the terrible man who called himself The Death Giver trying to ease his stooped form from the chair that stood on the platform.
It was that pitiful action that caused Cardona to lose his natural caution. He offered no protest as he saw Thade drop his hands weakly to his side. He noticed the right hand of the villain press against the arm of the chair.