XERXES
“Perhaps,” suggested The Shadow, “you can tell us something regarding a ship named the Xerxes?”
“I can,” declared Mallikan, with a solemn nod. “I must admit, Mr. Cranston, that I see the answer at last. You must believe me, commissioner, when I tell you that this possible connection never occurred to me until Mr. Cranston developed it.
“I understand why Milton Callard ordered the meeting in my office. Had three bits of ribbon been laid on my desk, I would have arranged them in different order until they formed a word. Then I could have told what I knew about the Steamship Xerxes.”
“You have heard of the boat?” queried Weston, eagerly.
“Yes,” replied Mallikan. “Anyone closely concerned with the India and China trade might have heard of the Xerxes.”
“You have traveled to the Orient, Cranston,” said Weston, turning to The Shadow. “Do you know of the Xerxes?”
“No,” replied The Shadow, calmly. “That was why I felt that Mr. Mallikan might prove indispensable. Otherwise we should have been forced to wade through shipping records.”
“What about David Callard?” demanded Weston of Mallikan. “Would he know of the ship?”
“Probably, if he heard the name,” returned Mallikan. “The Xerxes was a very old freighter that plied over various routes. Its last scheduled runs were between Calcutta and Hong Kong. The latter city is close to Canton, where Dave Callard was located.
“Some of the shipments on the Xerxes were sent to the interior when the boat unloaded at Hong Kong. Other goods were reshipped across the Pacific, through the Panama Canal to New York. Our company, the Indo-China Shipping Bureau, held a half interest in a fleet of freighters. The Xerxes belonged to a subsidiary company.”
“And the Xerxes is still in service?”
“No. A year ago, the fleet was broken up. The Xerxes became a tramp steamer, under command and ownership of its captain, William Jund. The old tub arrived here in New York and I understand that Jund tried to sell it. Apparently, he failed to do so.”
“Then where is the ship now?”
“Up the Hudson, near Poughkeepsie. Moored with a group of other forgotten vessels. Rusting away, totally neglected, unless Jund is still living aboard. Even with that, the ship would be going to absolute ruin. It has joined the ghost fleet.”
“The ghost fleet!”
“Yes. Vessels that have gone out of service. Ships that will never sail again, despite the hopes of their owners. The remnants of a once active merchant marine. Boats that could not survive a losing trade, but which have been kept intact in the slim hope that they may eventually be good for more than junk.”
MALLIKAN paused. Cardona was nodding wisely to indicate that he knew about the ghost fleet that the shipping man had mentioned. Weston also seemed to recall those old ships that were banked far up the Hudson River. It was The Shadow, however, who spoke.
“Suppose, Mallikan,” he said, quietly, “that today might be December fifth. That Ralgood and Shurrick were present with Hungerfeld; that this room represented your office. What would you tell them to do, once you had placed the three bits of ribbon together, to learn the name Xerxes?”
“That is easily answered,” replied Mallikan. “I would say to go up the Hudson some day. Take a look for the Xerxes; find out who is aboard the ship. If we should find Captain Jund, we could tell him why we came.”
“That’s the answer!” exclaimed Weston. “That is exactly what we shall do tomorrow morning. Cranston, you have done great work. Mallikan, you have my thanks.”
“You have mine,” acknowledged the shipping man, rising. “Apparently, commissioner, you have come to a solution of your problems. I can start my trip to Bermuda without qualms.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, the fifteen minutes has elapsed. It is time for me to start.”
Smiling, Mallikan shook hands with members of the group; then departed, accompanied by his two detective escorts. Commissioner Weston appeared elated as he chatted with Justin Hungerfeld. The Shadow, however, retained his fixed smile as he arose from the table.
“You are leaving, Cranston?” queried Weston. “I hope, that you would stay longer, while we discussed plans for tomorrow.”
“I am sorry, commissioner,” replied The Shadow. “I am entertaining in New Jersey this evening. Like Mallikan, I am running the risk of overstaying my time.”
“Very well. I shall call you in the morning.”
Joe Cardona stepped forward as the commissioner spoke. The Shadow detected a glum look on the sleuth’s face. He paused, waiting to hear what Cardona might have to say.
“Commissioner,” asserted Joe, “we ought to get up to that ghost fleet right away.”
“Why so, Cardona?” questioned Weston. “It is late in the afternoon. Darkness will arrive before we could get there. It would be difficult to find the Xerxes from the shore.”
“It wouldn’t be so tough from the river.”
“You mean we should go by water?”
“Sure, commissioner. We’ve got some speedy boats that can average better than thirty miles an hour. We can hit it straight up the river. No traffic, no trouble; and we run square into the ghost fleet when we get there.”
“An excellent idea, Cardona. But why have you shown all this zeal?”
“I’ve just had a hunch, commissioner. Dave Callard has grabbed two of these ribbons. If Mr. Cranston here could figure out the name of Xerxes from one pair of letters, maybe Callard could have done the same with two pair.”
“You are right, Cardona. We should visit the ghost fleet at once. Do you agree, Cranston?”
THE SHADOW considered. Then he spoke.
“The missing ribbons,” he declared, “bear the letters X E and E S. Yet together, I do not consider them to be as good a clue as the R X.”
“Why not?” demanded Weston. “They give the beginning of the word and the end.”
“Yes. But that fact might not be recognized. Anyone studying those two fragments might immediately pass by the letters X E, deciding that they would not be the beginning of a word.”
“And he would concentrate on E S as the first two letters?”
“Yes; and failing with them, he would believe that the last ribbon, the only one missing, would carry the all-important first letters. Perhaps his thought may have been that there were more than two letters on the first ribbon.”
“All good logic, Cranston. I see another point, also. If Mallikan, a shipping man, did not recognize that the ribbon was from a sailor’s hatband, it is unlikely that Dave Callard or anyone else would guess the fact.”
“Quite true, commissioner, If Mallikan failed to see what the ribbon was, another might have done the same.”
Joe Cardona offered an objection.
“Mr. Cranston guessed what the ribbon was,” vouchsafed the detective. “Don’t forget that, commissioner. Of course, the two most important letters are missing from the hunks of ribbon that young Callard has gotten hold of. But if he ever managed to grab this piece, he’d know the works.”
“He would not have to gain the ribbon,” remarked The Shadow. “If he holds the other two pieces, mere knowledge of the letters R X would serve as well. Remember, commissioner, you are dealing with a murderer who gained a head start.”
“We’ll start up there right away, Cardona,” decided Weston, suddenly. “Call headquarters. Arrange for the boats to be ready. Leave word where we will be.”
THE SHADOW spoke a quiet leave-taking; then strolled out into the hall as Weston began to talk to Hungerfeld and Cardona went to the telephone to put in his call. When the commissioner looked around, he saw that his friend Lamont Cranston had gone.