As his hands dropped the piece of blank paper, Harry knew that he must act at once. He gripped his revolver and hurried to Professor Sheldon’s study. The old man looked up from his desk.
“Professor Sheldon” — Harry’s words were firm — “I know the truth about the trouble here at East Point. I am going to end it now—”
Harry turned swiftly. He was too late. A man landed upon him with a terrific spring. Harry caught one glimpse of Lester’s face. Then something struck the back of his head, and consciousness passed away!
ONE hour later, the cottages at East Point were silent and unlighted, when the glare of headlights shone upon them. A coupe swung up the road, and came to a stop. Its lights went out. A silent figure emerged in total darkness.
A few minutes later, the door of Professor Sheldon’s cottage opened. A tiny disk of light, no larger than a half dollar, shone upon the wall. That spot enlarged. The hand that held a flashlight moved as a mysterious being of the dark stalked through the cottage.
There was not a sign of a living being in the place. Only furniture — and no items that could have been of value. The silent inspector examined the desk in the professor’s study. The drawers were empty.
Through the house went the light. Behind it, hidden in darkness, were the keen eyes of The Shadow.
Only one object caught The Shadow’s interest. That was a blank sheet of paper — a piece that had been folded — lying beneath a table. A low laugh came from concealed lips as a black-gloved hand entered the light to pluck the paper from the floor.
The Shadow had found the blank remainder of the message that he had sent to Harry Vincent on this very night.
The tiny light appeared and enlarged inside the cottage where Elbert Cordes had lived. The bodies of the old man and his servant had been removed. There was no trace of the murder that had taken place here tonight.
Again, The Shadow laughed.
Last came the inspection of Malbray Woodruff’s cottage. As in the other buildings, objects had been removed from here. One item, however, had passed notice. That was a crumpled sheet of paper on the floor, in a corner.
A black glove picked up the paper ball. Soon it lay spread upon a table. A black hand brought a sponge from a little metal box, and dabbed the surface of the paper.
Coded words immediately appeared upon the sheet.
This was the message that Harry Vincent had written with the special pen. An invisible ink had been used. Here, in concise words, was a message to The Shadow — a message which Harry had been unable to send, but which he had left, should The Shadow arrive.
It told of Woodruff’s disappearance — of the deaths at the Cordes cottage — how Harry’s life had been spared by the assassin — of Professor Kirby Sheldon’s return — of the search then going on for Malbray Woodruff.
It also mentioned Little Knob — how Woodruff and Harry had seen Cordes and Downs returning. On an innocent sheet of crumpled paper, Harry Vincent had left a full description of all that he had learned that evening.
The Shadow’s laugh came in shuddering tones as the writing slowly vanished from the paper. The Shadow’s hand held two blank sheets — the one which The Shadow had just read; and the one which he had found at Sheldon’s.
THE light reappeared in the professor’s cottage. It showed a door leading to a basement. The Shadow descended. With his light, he made a thorough inspection of that part of the premises. The light clicked out, and its next appearance was upon the bay beach, where it glimmered upon the little rowboat that had belonged to Malbray Woodruff.
Hoisted by a powerful hand, the little boat slid into the water. It moved silently away toward Little Knob. With soundless oars, with noiseless rowlocks, the tiny craft was guided along the very edge of the mound-shaped island.
At times, the flashlight appeared against the banks. The tide was higher than it had been in the day; but The Shadow, none the less, conducted an exacting search. It was more than an hour before the little boat again glided to the beach.
Shortly afterward, the coupe turned back along the road that led from East Point. Its motor purred swiftly through the night. The Shadow was returning to New York.
Had The Shadow failed tonight? The sudden departure was a strange proceeding. Delayed by the affray at Maurice Traymer’s, his plans balked by the unexpected actions which Malbray Woodruff had performed at East Point, The Shadow had indeed arrived too late for action.
He had found empty houses where people had been living but a few hours before. Harry Vincent, his trusted agent, was missing. It seemed that The Shadow had actually abandoned him to his fate!
Yet the driver of the Manhattan-bound coupe expressed no disappointment. Instead, he laughed at times. Within the coupe, weird echoes of a mysterious mirth were uttered in a low, uncanny mockery.
The Shadow had not failed tonight. His plans had been altered — that was all. He had learned facts which he had suspected — ideas which fitted in with his theories. With Harry Vincent a prisoner, the stake for which The Shadow was striving was merely larger.
Lives were in the balance — there they could rest. With uncanny intuition, The Shadow had learned data that he wished to know. The denouement of an incredible drama was in the making. The Shadow was content to wait.
Until now, The Shadow had studied. The Shadow had foreseen. The Shadow had waited for the development of facts. Tonight, he had received a clew in Harry Vincent’s message. It fitted in the missing links in the strange chain of evidence that told the truth of crime.
The Shadow was ready for the climax, because The Shadow knew the factors now involved.
The Shadow always knows!
CHAPTER XIX
THE GOLDEN GROTTO
WHEN Harry Vincent awoke, he was first conscious of a dull pain at the back of his head. His senses gradually returning, he realized that he was in a little room which was dimly lighted by indirect illumination which entered through a wicket in a door.
Harry sat up and saw that he had been lying upon a cot, and that it comprised — with a chair — the only furniture in the room. Looking about, he observed that the walls were like the sides of a cave.
A small bell hung above the wicket in the door. Its obvious purpose was to summon some one. Harry pulled a cord attached to the bell. In response to the tinkle, a key grated in a lock. The door opened, and Harry saw the smirking face of Lester.
“What’s the game?” questioned Harry slowly. “Where am I? What has happened?”
“How do you feel?” asked Lester.
“Not so good,” admitted Harry.
“Would you like to see Professor Sheldon?” the man asked.
“Yes,” said Harry.
Lester stepped aside, and bade Harry walk from the room. Obeying, Harry found himself in a roughly hewn corridor. He followed the passage until he came to another wicketed door. Lester unlocked this barrier, and Harry stepped into the strangest room that he had ever seen.
This was a large, vaulted apartment, lighted by electric lamps, which were hidden behind projecting cornices of rock. The whole cavern shimmered in the light. Flakish formations in the stone interior gave the whole place a golden glow. Lester made a remark which voiced Harry’s thoughts.
“This is the professor’s golden grotto,” the man said.
So interested was Harry in the scene above him that he had not noticed the presence of persons in this vaulted chamber. His ears now detected the sound of a spoken voice which came in muffled tones because of the hush which lay over all.
Looking in the direction of the sound, Harry saw Professor Kirby Sheldon talking solemnly to a silent group of men and women who were seated on cushions that lay on the floor of the cavern. Harry noticed that these people were not only well dressed, but intelligent in appearance. None of them seemed inimical toward the professor, but all wore a discontented expression.