“When I am twenty-one, my father’s wealth will be mine. I am actually in the power of Mr. Kermal and Doctor Claig. If they should threaten me, I should be forced to sign away my wealth to them. Mr. Kermal says he merely wants me to sign a will, leaving my money to some charitable organization, instead of to George Garling.
“And yet — yet I can no longer believe him. His statements about Uncle Rufus; his policy of hiding; the fact that he has covered Blissop’s death — all these things frighten me. Today is the fifteenth. My birthday is the eighteenth. Once midnight of the seventeenth has passed—”
THE girl stopped speaking. She shuddered; her lips trembled with suppressed fear. The Shadow spoke; his voice held a calmness that quieted Myra’s alarm.
The Shadow raised his left hand and drew back the glove that covered it. Myra observed a glowing gem. It was a magnificent opal, its depths as mysterious as The Shadow’s eyes.
“This girasol,” affirmed The Shadow, “is my token. You will recognize me by it, no matter what my guise. Have no fear; you are safe for the present. Before danger strikes, I shall be here.”
The Shadow stepped to the window. He unlatched folding shutters and drew one inward. Bars gleamed beyond. The girasol glittered as The Shadow pointed to the rods of steel.
“They have told you,” he stated, “that those bars are to protect you. But to you — not fully trusting — those bars make this room a prison.”
The girl nodded. She was amazed at The Shadow’s statement. Kermal and Claig had spoken of the bars the night that Myra had occupied this room. The Shadow closed the shutter.
“Keep these shutters closed,” he warned, “as you have been instructed. As for the bars, I shall deal with them tonight. Beyond this window you can see the upper story of the garage. My station will be there. You can signal me, should fear compel you.
“I shall know when danger threatens. I shall return at that hour. You will answer when you hear my summons” — slowly, The Shadow delivered four slow taps upon the table, with his gloved hand — “and you will know me by my token.”
The Shadow raised his left hand. Myra stared once more at the girasol, fascinated by its changing hues. Then the glove moved over the gem, blotting out its hypnotic radiance.
Myra saw a flash of crimson as The Shadow moved toward the door. The weird visitor opened the barrier; his form merged with the blackness of the hall. The door closed, leaving Myra stilled with wonderment.
To the girl, the episode was like a dream. Yet her diary was gone; sure proof that this being from the night had been a reality. Moreover, The Shadow’s presence had brought a calmness that remained. Myra Dolthan’s fears were allayed.
OUTSIDE the house, The Shadow was descending by the window through which he had entered. He reached the ground; he faded toward the garage as he saw lights coming up the road. Doctor Claig’s coupe rolled into the drive. A stooped figure appeared from the direction of the house. It was Croy.
The Shadow watched the big servant enter the garage. Peering through a window, he saw Croy and Claig jacking up an old sedan in the corner. This was the car that Croy had used earlier; they were fixing it so that it would appear to have been long since out of commission.
The coupe’s lights went out; Claig and Croy stumbled through darkness to the house. The Shadow let them pass, then entered the garage. He waited there a few minutes; then blinked his light along the floor. He found a third vehicle parked in the garage. It was an old station wagon that Claig had used in the past.
The Shadow’s light showed the right rear tire. The Shadow recognized the tread that he had seen on the road from the rear of the old house. The station wagon was the vehicle in which the furnishings had been brought here.
The flashlight blackened. The Shadow stole from the garage, glided to the back road and coasted away in Clyde’s coupe. Reaching Sheffield, he parked the car and entered the hotel.
He arrived at the room which his agents occupied. There he unlocked the door. Clyde and Harry were asleep in their beds.
From a large suitcase belonging to Harry Vincent, The Shadow brought out boxlike objects: items of special radio equipment. He produced wires and earphones; in their place he left a sealed envelope. Carrying his new burdens, he glided from the room and locked the door behind him.
LATER, he arrived on foot at Doctor Claig’s. Entering the garage, The Shadow found the door to the unoccupied upper floor. He went up the stairs, left the articles that he was carrying and descended. His figure glided to the house, directly beneath Myra’s room.
Scaling the wall in darkness, The Shadow gripped the outside bars. They were built into the masonry; The Shadow attacked them in the darkness with a sharp, glistening saw that cut its way steadily through the steel. He seemed untiring as he proceeded with this task, gripping the solid bars as he worked to weaken others.
At last, the central bars, though apparently untampered, were cut to a point where a single twist would break them. Loosening his hold, The Shadow dropped easily to the ground. The moonlight gave only a passing glimpse of his gliding figure as he returned to the garage.
Only Myra Dolthan had heard the sound of The Shadow’s sawing. Half asleep, the girl had scarcely noticed the sound until just before The Shadow’s task was completed. Rising, Myra went to the window and cautiously unlatched a shutter. She peered out into the moonlight.
A blink came from an upstairs window of the garage. It was repeated. Myra understood. The Shadow had discerned her face behind the barred window of her room. His glimmers were a signal that all was well. The Shadow had kept his promise. Myra knew that the bars of her window were formidable no longer.
She knew also that her mysterious protector had taken his new post. Day and night, The Shadow would be ready to aid her should danger strike. Myra smiled as she looked out into the moonlight. With a happy heart she closed the shutters and dropped the latch in place.
Whatever the answer to the complex problems that, confronted her, the girl felt confident that her security was assured. Somehow, she held the belief that The Shadow had delved deeply into the plots that up to now had threatened her.
The Shadow knew. Withholding action for the present, he was baiting men of crime. When the stage would be set for an exposure of evil schemes, The Shadow would be prepared.
CHAPTER XIV
THE LAW’S QUEST
IT was the next afternoon. A sultry haze clung to the slopes of the horizon about Sheffield. An ominous touch seemed present on the countryside. This was apparent to Doctor Leo Claig as he sat in an old rocker on the front porch of his prisonlike house.
The physician was puffing mildly at a briar pipe. A casual observer would have considered him complacent. But all the while, Claig’s watchful eyes were shrewdly gazing toward roads and hillsides. He was studying the toylike figures of searching men. Jay Goodling had ordered a search throughout the county.
Deputies had passed during the day. Some had seen Doctor Claig standing in his doorway; others had noted him rocking in his porch chair. All had waved friendly greetings, which Claig had returned. None, however, had heard the mild chuckles that the physician uttered after they had passed.
Sunset was approaching. Claig’s gaze turned westward. The watchful man saw wearied figures against the sky. Searchers were inward bound. Cutting across fields, they would pass by the house. They had evidently chosen Claig’s as a landmark on which to take bearings.