That objective gained, his course was upward. Gripping fingers pressed roughened stone. The Shadow’s figure reached the porch roof. His hands arrived upon a glass pane. A wedge of thin steel slid between the portions of the sash. A clamp yielded, noiselessly.
Stretching a hand into darkness, The Shadow felt a broad window ledge. Beyond were thick curtains; this accounted for the deep gloom within the window. The Shadow edged in until he reached the curtains. Silently, he closed the widow.
The Shadow could hear voices; yet the thickness of the draperies muffled them almost to a point of obscurity. It was not until The Shadow carefully divided the curtains to a scant half inch that he could make out the words that were being spoken.
The separation of the curtains enabled him to see as well as hear. The view of the room beyond the curtains was immediate proof that The Shadow had reached his objective.
Chairs, couch, rugs and tapestries; even the wolfhound in the corner — all matched the description of the living room in the house on Dobson’s Road.
The furnishings had been carried here to Claig’s and put in place about this room. Apparently, this had once been the physician’s upstairs office; that was why it had no bars upon the window. For the present, it was the new headquarters of Taussig Kermal. The man, himself, was seated in the center of the room.
A SOUR glower showed on Kermal’s thick features. As The Shadow watched, the heavy man gave a growl and shook his shaggy head. Opposite Kermal sat Claig. It was apparent that the physician had completed a report. The details had not been to Kermal’s liking.
“That’s about all,” declared Claig, suavely, as Kermal began to chew at the end of a cigar. “I was later than I expected; and I ran into some deputies outside the house. I stopped to chat with them a while. It seemed good policy.”
“It was,” snorted Kermal, “and it won’t be all the talking you’ll have to do, Claig. Well, let’s hope we can hold out for the next few days.”
“There should be no trouble, Kermal,” assured Claig. “Leave that part of it to me.”
“We may be able to fool Goodling,” stated Kermal, “but Rufus Dolthan is a different. matter. He and this smart detective, Parrell, are liable to make a lot of trouble for us.”
“No more than Goodling,” objected Claig. “He’s hot because of Yager’s death. He’s found the missing house besides.”
“He blundered into it,” sneered Kermal. “Something odd must have happened down there tonight. He never should have found the place. I’d have sent after that trunk sooner, if I’d known all that was coming.”
“Lay it on Yager,” suggested Claig. “How were we to know that Blissop talked to the fellow. I didn’t know it until he blew into the courthouse tonight. I was expecting some trouble from Goodling or Lanford — not from a person like Yager.”
“Croy took care of Lanford?”
“Yes. But there, again, I can see trouble. Goodling will be as anxious to rescue Lanford as Dolthan is to find Myra.”
“Not quite. But we’ve a chance to spike the Lanford business.”
Kermal settled back into his chair and puffed at his cigar. After a few moments of meditation, he spoke in a slow growl.
“Lanford recognized Croy,” he explained. “The only thing Croy could do was grab him. Croy didn’t think Burke knew who he was. That’s why he chucked Burke from the car, instead of bringing him along, too.”
“But Burke knew it was Croy,” put in Claig, in a sarcastic tone, “and right after that, Yager was murdered. That made a perfect tie-up between the abduction and the killing.”
“Forget Yager,” growled Kermal.
“They’ll never find the fellow who shot him; and if they can’t trace it that far, how are they ever going to bring us into it?”
“Through Blissop’s death,” returned Claig. “When they find his body, they’ll accuse us of his murder. They won’t need any more than circumstantial evidence to pin Yager’s death on us.”
“We can explain matters about Blissop,” insisted Kermal. “We decided that the other night, Claig. Our story will sound straight enough.”
“It would have sounded straight,” agreed Claig, “but it won’t pass muster after what’s happened to Yager. The two men were linked. Anybody who had cause to kill one would apparently have cause to kill the other.
“We’ll have to sit tight; and all the while, we’re in a worse mess because of Lanford. I’ll tell you, Kermal, you’ve gone too strong. Of course, it was Croy’s fault. He had good reason to be on his way through town; but he made a mistake in grabbing Lanford.”
“DID he?” Kermal bounded to his feet. “Did he? Listen, Claig — we’re lucky to have Lanford here. They’re looking for us anyway. We couldn’t use Lanford while he was loose.”
“Can we use him now?”
“Certainly. There’s going to be a show-down some day. The more friends we have in court, the better. I’m going to talk to Lanford and see how he reacts.”
“You’re going to tell him about Yager?”
“Of course not. We’ll give him the facts as they stood at the time Croy grabbed him. We’ll see if he is impressed. If it goes over, we’ll know that we can take a chance with the others later.”
“Not now. Not since Yager’s death. That complicates everything.”
“Perhaps. Nevertheless, if Lanford listens, we’ll have gained something.”
Kermal strode to the door and called for Daggart. The Shadow caught a glimpse of the pale-faced secretary in a hallway beyond the door. Daggart nodded and departed when Kermal ordered him to bring Lanford.
Doctor Leo Claig was smiling wisely as Kermal returned. Watching the physician’s face, The Shadow could see that Claig possessed craft as keen as Kermal’s.
Fred Lanford was due for an interview with two shrewd men. However they might choose to bluff their prisoner, the chances were that they would be successful.
But in the coming game, these two planners were dealing with one whose presence they did not suspect. Unwittingly, they were about to reveal themselves and their schemes to the hidden watcher who had come to learn their ways.
CHAPTER XI
LANFORD AGREES
“COME in, Daggart.”
Kermal rasped the command in response to taps at the doorway from the hall. The door opened; Daggart appeared, with Fred Lanford. The Shadow, peering from the slitted curtain, observed another figure also.
Croy was standing out in the hallway. The big servant had backed up Daggart. The Shadow knew that Lanford, until now, must have been kept prisoner in one of the barred rooms.
In fact, Lanford’s face showed defiance as the prisoner met Kermal’s gaze. Then, as Daggart closed the door, Lanford began to look about in bewildered fashion. The room had turned his recollection back to that old house that he had visited with Goodling.
Lanford stared toward the curtains at the window, thinking that they led into an adjoining room. Seeing that they were raised to the level of a window sill, he realized that this could not be the apartment wherein he had viewed a dead form by the couch.
A chuckle ended Lanford’s musing. The prisoner turned as he heard the sound. He recognized Doctor Claig. An expression of complete mystification showed upon Lanford’s features; then the young man smiled in relief.
Like others who lived in Sheffield, Lanford knew Claig by sight and reputation. The doctor’s presence gave assurance that danger was absent. But as he viewed Claig’s steady eyes, Lanford appeared to wonder.