Claig took the letter and departed. The Shadow saw Daggart watch the physician’s departure. Daggart’s face looked pale and troubled. Kermal noted the fact also.
“Good night, Daggart,” said the lawyer. “It’s time for sleep. If anything worries you, we can talk about it in the morning.”
The secretary nodded and went out by the door which he had entered. Kermal glanced about the room; then went to the same door and turned out the lights. The Shadow saw the hallway light as the lawyer opened the door; then the glow was obscured as the barrier closed behind Kermal.
Curtains parted in darkness. Softly, The Shadow entered the living room. From outside, he could hear the buzz of a motor. Doctor Claig was driving his coupe from the garage.
Reaching the portal, The Shadow opened the door to find a darkened hall. One glimmer of light was present; it came from beneath a door at the end of the corridor. Softly, The Shadow stole in that direction.
He stopped when he reached the door itself. Shrouded amid darkness, The Shadow paused to listen. The sound outside had faded. Claig had departed townward. An absolute hush held sway throughout this entire house.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SHADOW’S PROMISE
Tap-tap — Tap-tap—
Myra Dolthan looked up, startled. The girl was seated in the corner of a plainly furnished room, the apartment to which she had been assigned since the arrival at Doctor Claig’s.
Tap-tap — Tap-tap—
Myra smiled at her own fright. She laid aside the diary in which she was writing and arose from beside a little table. She had recognized Daggart’s knock. This was probably another summons from Kermal. Myra supposed that the lawyer wanted her to hold a new interview with Lanford.
“All right, Daggart,” said Myra. “I am ready. Does Mr. Kermal want to see me again?”
She was unlocking the door as she spoke. She thought she heard a response in the secretary’s voice. Myra opened the door. Eyes wide with amazement, she stared across the threshold.
Before her, Myra saw an incredible figure. The darkness of the hall enshrouded cloaked shoulders. That same gloom obscured the features of a face beneath a slouch hat. Yet the girl could discern eyes — orbs of fire that shone from beneath the hat brim.
A warning whisper stopped the startled exclamation that sprang to Myra’s lips. Silent, the girl stared into those burning eyes. Yet fear passed instantly as Myra studied the glowing optics. Some mysterious flash of The Shadow’s eyes told her that this visitant was a friend.
The Shadow’s gaze brought further understanding. Like speaking lips, those eyes pronounced that their owner had come here secretly, that his presence in this house was unknown to other occupants. Stepping back from the door, Myra motioned for The Shadow to enter.
Blackness moved inward from the hall. The Shadow’s outline formed a clear-cut figure in the light. Silently, The Shadow closed the door. He turned and spoke to Myra. The steadiness of his whisper gave the girl new confidence.
“I have seen,” pronounced The Shadow. “I have heard. I am a friend. You may speak. Tell me your real thoughts concerning Taussig Kermal.”
The girl walked to the table. She picked up her diary, closed the book and extended it to The Shadow. A gloved hand received the volume.
“I have kept this record,” declared Myra. “You may have it. You must truly be a friend; otherwise you could not be here. Of if you were an enemy” — the girl managed a smile as she paused — “your purpose would be to kill me; not to talk of the dangers which surround me.”
MYRA had seated herself at the table. Her confidence in The Shadow was amazing. Instinctively, the girl had recognized The Shadow as a protector. She was anxious to unburden her troubled mind to this weird visitant who had conquered obstacles to meet her.
“The book tells everything,” declared Myra, her quiet eyes meeting The Shadow’s gaze, “and yet — and yet I do not fully understand. About Taussig Kermal — about my uncle. I would have believed Mr. Kermal fully if he had not spoken as he did of Uncle Rufus.”
“State what Kermal said,” ordained The Shadow.
“He told me that father had died suddenly.” The girl’s tone was sober. “He said that the will placed my life in jeopardy. Should I die before I became twenty-one, father’s money would go to my stepbrother, George. I have always liked George; but it is true that he is a weakling, as Mr. Kermal said.
“I do not doubt that George could be sent to prison by people who knew too much about him. I believed it best to do as Mr. Kermal said. The old house where we were seemed safe. I could see easily how my life would be sought by criminals if they intended to blackmail George Garling, should he gain my father’s wealth.
“But I could not understand why Mr. Kermal would not let me write to my uncle. I asked him; he said, at first, that my uncle would disapprove of the plan to keep me hidden. I insisted that I could persuade Uncle Rufus to make no objection. Mr. Kermal said then that maybe our enemies were watching Uncle Rufus. I became more persistent and finally Mr. Kermal said that my uncle was the one enemy whom we must guard against.”
THE girl paused. Her face was pale and troubled; her eyes had a far-away stare as she recalled those discussions that she had held in the past.
“I told Mr. Kermal that I did not believe him,” declared Myra, firmly. “He broke into a tirade against my uncle. He — he said that he believed my father feared my uncle. That — that my father’s death looked like murder.
“He claimed that!” The girl’s tone, though low, was indignant. “Mr. Kermal declared that Uncle Rufus first managed to poison my father. So cleverly was it done that no trace could be discovered; and that his next move would be to kill me.
“In my case, Mr. Kermal said, there would be no attempt at strategy. Any form of death would do, so long as I died before I came of age. Each day seemed more desperate; and yet I felt forced to trust in Mr. Kermal.”
“Your reason,” ordered The Shadow. “State why you still trusted Kermal.”
“I knew that I was safe with him,” explained Myra. “Events had proven that. Doctor Claig, too, seemed very kind. But when Blissop was killed, I–I began to wonder. That is why I warned the two men who came to the house.”
“Give your recollection of Blissop’s death,” commanded The Shadow.
“It happened while I was upstairs,” declared Myra. “At the other house. I heard the shots. I came down and saw Daggart wounded. Blissop was dead; Croy had killed him. Croy said that he had slain Blissop to save Daggart.
“Croy seemed honest. But Blissop had seemed honest, too. I think Croy did act to save Daggart. But Croy is stupid at times; Blissop was a much more intelligent man. I wondered if Blissop really was a traitor.
“Suppose that Mr. Kermal was the one who really plotted against my life; not Uncle Rufus, as he suggests. Croy would not have seen that Mr. Kermal was evil; but Blissop could have. He might have been acting to help me when Croy killed him.”
Again the girl paused. The Shadow spoke:
“Tonight,” he whispered, “you spoke as though you partly trusted Kermal. You managed well with it. You covered most of the doubts that you must feel.”
Myra nodded her understanding. She realized that somehow The Shadow had been present at that interview. She gave her explanation.
“I have realized that I must cover my mistrust,” she declared. “I am safe here for the present. But I fear Mr. Kermal. I know that the crisis may come soon. When he told me those lies about Uncle Rufus, I realized what his own game could be.
“Whether or not I do have enemies at present, I could certainly have one after I become of age. The one I mean is Mr. Kermal himself. He may be planning crime of his own, telling me these stories in order to cover his own plot.