“Incredible!” exclaimed Dolthan. He shifted, his chair away from the window. “A murder — here in your own office! Did the assassins escape?”
“They did,” returned Goodling. “We started out to Yager’s. We heard gunfire; we encountered a fleeing car. That led us to investigate a house that had not been properly searched before, since it was not on the old Westbury road.
“We discovered it to be the mystery house. We found dead men there; and we located this trunk that belonged to your niece. But the house was deserted; its lavish furnishings removed. Kermal, Daggart, Croy — all were gone; and Myra also.”
Goodling arose and paced the office. He stared through the blackened window. He shrugged his shoulders; he was sure that no lurkers had returned. They had dealt with Yager; another visit here would have been folly on the part of the assassins.
“I have come to certain conclusions,” stated Goodling, “despite the fact that some details are vague. It is obvious that Kermal and his underlings fled that house after they had dealt with Lanford and myself.
“Apparently Blissop, knowing Kermal’s game, had planned to blackmail his master. He must have arranged for pals of his to come to the house tonight. Probably he chose Yager’s shack for the rendezvous. That is why he gave Yager money.”
Goodling paused to look toward Parrell. The private detective nodded his accordance. Goodling resumed.
“Kermal ordered Blissop’s murder. He removed everything to some new hideout. The trunk was forgotten. He sent men of his own to get it. On the way, they stopped here. Croy, scouting about, must have reported that a conference was due.
“Kermal’s ruffians saw Yager through the window. They fired three shots, killing Yager; then they dashed away for a quick trip to the old house. Blissop’s pals, meanwhile, had arrived at Yager’s. Finding the squatter gone, they went to the old house.
“The two groups met. They battled; we arrived at the finish. We gained the trunk as evidence. But dead men cannot speak; and living rascals have escaped.”
JAY GOODLING stopped, dejectedly. Rufus Dolthan, however, was quick to interject a hopeful comment.
“Perhaps,” he exclaimed, “those fugitives have gone to join Kermal. Their trail would lead you to his new hiding place.”
“No.” It was Parrell who spoke. “Those fellows were covering up. They wouldn’t hop back to Kermal’s. They weren’t hicks; they came from New York. Kermal must have called them in on the deal.”
“We have one lead,” decided Goodling, thoughtfully. “I refer to Croy. He must have gone to join Kermal. What is more, I believe that the new headquarters is close by.”
“What makes you think that?” questioned Dolthan.
“Croy being close at hand,” replied Goodling. “That is one point. Another fact: they moved a whole lot of furnishings. They would not have wanted to travel after daybreak; hence they could not have gone a great distance.
“Moreover, the move was an emergency one. They were taking chances being in that empty house and they probably were wise enough to have another hideout picked for a pinch. What is more, Daggart was wounded. Kermal would have to think about him.
“Our search will continue. I intend to scour the entirely county for traces of Kermal and his subordinates. No time will be lost.”
“No time can be lost!” exclaimed Dolthan, rising. “Myra must be found within the next few days. As soon as she becomes of age, Kermal’s plot will be completed. Myra is his dupe, just as her father was. The grasping scoundrel will trick her into signing away her wealth.”
“Do you think that the girl’s life is in jeopardy?” queried Goodling.
“Yes and no,” replied Dolthan, his tone troubled. “So long as Kermal thinks he’s within the law, he will prefer to have her live. But if he is trapped; if crime is pinned upon him, he is rogue enough to resort to murder. As he had done already.”
“Then our search may bring trouble,” declared Goodling, seriously. “Yet it is our only course.”
“It must be carefully conducted,” warned Dolthan. “Search thoroughly for Kermal; but when he is found, make no immediate attack against him.”
“A good plan,” agreed Goodling. “Naturally, Kermal would not murder Myra unless he knew his game was finished. Only an open attack would drive him to such a deed. I believe, Mr. Dolthan, that it would be best for you to stay in town, so that we can discuss matters when the emergency arrives.”
“I shall do so.” Dolthan turned to Souder, who had quietly returned during the discussion. “Souder, call my home in New York. Have Wurling drive here at once with the limousine. Tell him to bring Hazzler, also.”
“ONE moment, Mr. Dolthan,” asserted Parrell. “Maybe you need your chauffeur and your valet since you intend to stay a while; but I need helpers, too; and they are more important. If I’m to work on this case with Mr. Goodling, I ought to have a few of my investigators on the job.”
“Perhaps, Parrell,” reproved Dolthan, “Mr. Goodling does not want your assistance. My intentions were to send you back to New York. The search for Myra is now in the hands of the law.”
“But I was trailing Kermal,” insisted Parrell, in an indignant tone. “I came here to look for him. It’s rather tough to be let down just when the game begins to open.”
“Your search was for Myra,” declared Dolthan. “We suspected that she was being influenced by Kermal. But Kermal, then, was known to us only as a rogue. At present, we know him for a criminal. A murderer. It is a matter for the authorities.”
“I should welcome cooperation,” put in Goodling, as he saw Parrell’s dejection. “Parrell is a good man, Mr. Dolthan. If you care to retain him, I can certainly use him and his experienced investigators. They can be sworn in as deputies.”
“Very well,” agreed Dolthan. “Give Souder the names of the men whom you want, Parrell. When you call New York, Souder, arrange for Wurling to bring Parrell’s operatives with him.”
Comment ended. Goodling arose. He decided that there was no need of further conference. He stated that he would push the search that had already begun.
Rufus Dolthan left for the hotel, accompanied by Souder and Parrell. Doctor Claig suavely decided that he was going home. Harry and Clyde went from the office while the physician was still holding a brief chat with the prosecutor.
Both agents were anxious to hear from The Shadow; to make their reports regarding the evening’s episodes. For they knew that in the search for Myra Dolthan, The Shadow, alone, could accomplish more than a host of others.
CHAPTER IX
THE SHADOW’S FINDING
“THAT’S finished.”
Clyde Burke made the remark as he sealed a well-packed envelope. He placed it on the writing desk, where Harry Vincent was still engaged with fountain pen. A few minutes later, Harry ceased writing and folded his final paper. He tucked this sheet into a partly filled envelope. Like Clyde, Harry sealed the wrapper.
Harry had decided to room with Clyde. Uninstructed by The Shadow, the two agents had gone immediately to the hotel. There they had compiled individual reports.
“Of all places,” mused Clyde Burke, staring from the window, “this town of Sheffield is the last where I’d expect excitement. The only place that’s lighted is the courthouse; and that’s simply because of all this crime.”
“Quite a few street lamps,” observed Harry, strolling to the window. “That’s one help, Clyde.”
“Yes,” returned the reporter, “but what use are they? Ordinarily, nobody would be up after nine o’clock in this burg.”
“There’s someone now, coming from the courthouse.”
“Sure. From the courthouse. Probably some deputy. No — it’s Doctor Claig.”