“I sent him out this evening,” added Kermal. “He met you while he was driving through the outskirts of the town. You recognized him; and Croy saw nothing else to do but bring you here.”
“And now,” put in Claig, “the house has been located. The trunk is in Goodling’s office. The hunt is beginning for Myra Dolthan as well as for you, Lanford. But” — the physician chuckled — “they will never suspect this house as the new hiding place.”
“Not until we reveal it,” declared Kermal, seriously. “We intend to do that, Lanford, within the next few days. As soon as Myra is twenty-one and has made her new will. That is why we have decided to be frank with you.”
KERMAL arose, stepped forward and clamped his hand on Lanford’s shoulder. His entire action was friendly.
“You can help us, Lanford,” declared the lawyer, in an emphatic tone. “You can help us by staying here, as a guest, rather than as a prisoner. You can act as witness to documents. You can aid us in protecting Myra.”
“How?” questioned Lanford.
“By writing a letter,” replied Kermal. “A letter to Goodling. I shall mail it to New York and have a friend there send it, in your envelope, to Goodling.
“You can explain that everything is all right. That you have met Myra Dolthan. That will carry the search away from here. We shall be unmolested until the all-important day when we can make our complete story public.”
Lanford nodded momentarily. Then his fists clenched in challenge. Rising, the young man faced Kermal. He blurted out his doubt.
“Why should I accept your story?” he demanded. “Why should I even believe in Doctor Claig? You have tried to explain a murder. Perhaps your story is true. But how do I know that the girl is here? How do I know that she is still alive? She warned me once — where is she to warn me now?”
“She is here,” smiled Kermal, “to advise you. Not to warn you. Daggart” — he beckoned to the secretary — “go and request Miss Dolthan to join our company.”
The secretary bowed and went toward a door opposite the one by which Lanford had entered. Kermal’s smile had become triumphant. Claig’s face showed a gleam.
The Shadow, watching Fred Lanford, saw the young man stare fixedly toward the door by which Daggart had departed. The Shadow knew that if Myra Dolthan appeared in answer to the secretary’s summons, Kermal’s argument with Lanford would be won.
CHAPTER XII
FROM THE NIGHT
BEYOND the door that Daggart had left open was a further hall. It was the twin of the corridor by which Lanford had come to this meeting room. Daggart’s footsteps had died; now, after a brief-lapse, foot-falls were returning.
All eyes were toward that door as Myra Dolthan appeared. Standing on the threshold, the girl gazed inquiringly toward Taussig Kermal. Then she spied Fred Lanford.
Her eyes showed involuntary surprise as she recognized him as one of the men to whom she had given a warning.
“Come in, Myra,” requested Kermal, in a kindly tone. “I want you to meet Mr. Lanford. He was one of the strangers who came to the other house. Do you remember him?”
“I do,” replied Myra, nodding slowly. The girl’s face had paled; but its color was returning as she advanced into the room. “I–I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Lanford.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Dolthan,” returned Lanford. He had risen and was bowing. “Very pleased.”
“Your friend?” inquired Myra. “Where is he?”
“Jay Goodling?” laughed Lanford. “Back in town, where he belongs. Wondering where I am, I suppose.”
“You see, Myra” — Kermal caught the girl’s attention — “I told you the exact truth when I said that no harm had befallen those two strangers. We did not hold them as prisoners. They were released by Croy. Both of them returned to Sheffield.
“Mr. Lanford came here tonight, after a chance meeting with Croy. I must admit that there was a misunderstanding; but after Croy brought Lanford here, I explained matters. Lanford is our guest; not our prisoner.”
Myra Dolthan appeared relieved. Fred Lanford smiled. This was certainly the girl whom he had met on Saturday night. He had remembered Myra’s countenance from the vague light of the old house. Here, where he could see her face more plainly, he was absolutely sure of her identity.
Myra Dolthan was attired in the same dark traveling costume that she had been wearing that other night. Her voice was the same; the darkness of her hair produced the same contrast against the whiteness of her face.
“I was worried about you, Mr. Lanford,” explained Myra, as she seated herself in a chair. “Mr. Kermal and Doctor Claig assured me that you and your friend were uninjured. But I knew that there had been a scuffle after you had failed to heed my warning.”
“Mr. Lanford was concerned about your safety, Myra,” put in Claig, with his dry tone. “So Mr. Kermal decided that it would be best for you to meet.”
“You see, Myra,” stated Kermal, “I have made certain statements to Mr. Lanford. I feel convinced that he believes what I have told him; but your corroboration would be most welcome.”
“May I ask Miss Dolthan some questions?” queried Lanford, facing Kermal boldly.
“Certainly,” replied the lawyer. “Myra” — he stared toward the girl — “you may answer any questions that Mr. Lanford asks.”
THE girl nodded. Her eyes were looking straight toward Kermal. The Shadow, watching from the curtains, could see the fixed, almost hypnotic stare that had come over Myra’s expression. Not once did Kermal relax his gaze.
“Miss Dolthan,” stated Lanford, “I have been told that you are here of your own free choice. Is that correct?”
“Certainly.” The girl spoke in a low tone; then turned toward Lanford as Kermal’s gaze relaxed. “Yes. I lived in the old house at Mr. Kermal’s advice. I came here also because he advised it.”
“Yet you warned Goodling and myself,” insisted Lanford. “You told us to leave that house on Dobson’s Road. Why?”
Myra did not look toward Kermal; yet it was plain, to The Shadow, that the girl knew the lawyer was watching her. Myra spoke; her voice trembled slightly.
“I was afraid,” she said to Lanford. “Not for myself; but for you and your friend. I was afraid that you would be mistaken for enemies. We expected such persons to arrive.”
“But you thought Goodling and I were all right?”
“Yes. That is why I warned you.”
“You knew that a man was dead in the house?”
“Yes. I knew that Blissop had been killed.”
“And you believe that his death was either accidental or justified by circumstances?”
“Yes. Croy told me that he shot Blissop in order to save Daggart. I believed Croy.”
Lanford nodded. Despite the fact that Myra spoke as if under pressure, her statements were clear. Kermal smiled; then made a suggestion to Lanford.
“Ask Miss Dolthan if she thinks you should cooperate with us,” said the lawyer. Then, to Myra: “Remember, Myra, you may answer as you think best.”
Again the girl’s eyes met Kermal’s. Myra nodded instinctively. The Shadow could see that Kermal was forcing her to a choice. Lanford, however, did not discern the subtle fact.
“Mr. Kermal wants me to write a letter,” stated the young man. “One that can be posted from New York. A letter saying that everything is all right; that you are safe. That I am satisfied that all can be explained. Do you feel that I should comply with that request?”
“I do,” responded Myra. “I advise you to do as Mr. Kermal suggests.”
“And shall I remain here, and aid in keeping searchers from learning where you are?”
“Yes. If Mr. Kermal wishes you to do so.”