"Mr. Halden is in," the clerk said. "He called me a while ago. At least, he started to, and then hung up. I'll ring him."
"We'd better go up," decided Weston. "Give me a passkey."
THEY reached Halden's room. While Weston was unlocking the door, Margo stepped forward, only to be pressed back by Cranston's arm. That left it to Weston to utter the gasp of horror, when he pressed the door wide.
The commissioner voiced Cranston's name, and his friend stepped calmly past him, to view a sight which he fully expected.
Flat on the floor lay a tall man, his face turned toward the doorway, his features skewed in a one-sided smile that was very far from pleasant. But it wasn't the glimmer of bulging eyes that attracted The Shadow's chief attention.
He had expected to find Arthur Halden dead. More important was the gleam that came from the finger of the man's stiffened hand, the one that clamped the telephone, which Halden hadn't quite been able to put in use for a frantic call.
The gleam was of a slightly pinkish hue, produced by a stone which The Shadow classed as rose quartz, quite as cheap as the settings in the finger rings worn by the two previous victims, Jorton and Bayle.
Again, death had arrived ahead of both The Shadow and the law.
Murder still reigned, how many more victims it would take was a matter for conjecture, even by The Shadow. He, the inspector who had so often run down crime, could only hope that the toll of dead men would stop before it reached the total of six!
CHAPTER X. THE STOLEN LINK
THE clerk at the Hotel Marwood was a better informant than either the bartender who had seen Jorton die, or the cab driver who had brought Bayle's body home. The clerk knew quite a lot about Arthur Halden. The dead man, he said, was a former stock broker who had retired during a flush period of more than ten years before.
Halden was quite wealthy and still had dabbled in the market, advising friends, as well. However, he was living on his investments, which weren't paying the old-time dividends, hence he preferred a reasonably priced hotel like the Marwood.
In trying to recall the names of Halden's friends, the clerk promptly remembered one. The man in question was Kirk Raft, who had a real-estate office on upper Broadway, not far from the Marwood.
The clerk remembered Raft, especially, because there had been a phone call from the realtor's office while Weston and his friend, Cranston, were coming down from Halden's apartment.
Since Raft's office was near, Weston suggested an immediate trip there. On the way, he confided:
"This is horrible business, Cranston, but we're getting to the heart of it. I wouldn't be surprised if this man Raft is the murderer!"
The Shadow deemed quite otherwise, but did not express his real opinion. As they were alighting from the commissioner's car, he helped Margo out and remarked that she was looking pale.
"You'd better stay outside," said The Shadow, "and get some fresh air."
"A good idea," returned Margo. "I'll walk to the corner, Lamont, and get some cigarettes."
A gesture of The Shadow's hand had given her the cue. As Margo stepped away, she heard Cranston's undertone:
"Try to get Shrevvy here."
Margo knew how that could be accomplished. It meant a call to a man named Burbank, who always seemed to be on duty. He was a contact with Harry Vincent, Moe Shrevnitz, and other agents. If they were available, Burbank would summon them. But Margo really felt sick as she walked toward the store.
She'd received her first indication that Cranston did not consider the chain of death ended. She realized that he was hoping for another link from Raft's, further on, and that this time he would seek some pretext to get away from Weston and speed ahead of the commissioner, in an effort to forestall some other tragedy. That was why Shrevvy would be required. His cab would help.
Meanwhile, Commissioner Weston was striding into Raft's real-estate office with an air of self-satisfied importance. He saw a girl seated at a desk and introduced himself, along with Cranston.
The girl said that Mr. Raft was working late and didn't like to be disturbed, but that she would ring his private office. Stopping her, Weston said that he would go into the other office without such unnecessary formality.
The commissioner drew a gun as he opened the door. Just why he pictured Kirk Raft as a hand in crime, was something that Weston couldn't explain afterward. His mistaken confidence, however, reversed itself in a fashion that jarred him worse that at Halden's. Half into the lighted office, Weston actually dropped his gun and clamped a hand to his dampening forehead.
KIRK RAFT was a worse sight than any of the former victims. He was a scrawny man, with tight-skinned face, and the effects of the poison had changed his dead face into a human skull.
Lips were scarcely visible above and below his grinning teeth. His eyes seemed sunken in their sockets, but small though they were, they carried the ugly death glisten that Weston had viewed before.
One of Raft's hands, his right, was stretched so far across the desk that it dangled from the edge. Its fingers were spread like a starfish, but none of them wore a ring. However, the left hand was still to be considered. It was doubled beneath Raft's slanted body, quite out of sight.
Helping Weston to a chair, The Shadow rounded the desk and started to draw the doubled left hand into sight. It was then that Weston's wits returned.
"No, no, Cranston!" he exclaimed, rising. "Touch nothing for the present! I must call Inspector Cardona and have him catch up with us, bringing the police surgeon. Four deaths within a half-hour! They are more than I can stomach!"
The Shadow could have suggested that Weston get over his weakness and prepare for further shocks, but he was more interested in the ring, that now showed on Raft's partly raised left hand.
It was another specimen of cheap jewelry, a smooth, roundish stone like those that had adorned the other victims, but this one had a trifling lavender tinge. It was a poor variety of domestic amethyst, nothing more, and as The Shadow tilted a light toward it, what little color the stone had faded very promptly.
The girl was corning from the front office. The Shadow stopped her on the threshold. He used Cranston's way of breaking the news calmly, but he was glad when Margo appeared, for Raft's helper had gone white and limp, even without seeing her employer's body.
Margo produced some smelling salts, but before bringing the stenographer from her fainting spell, she thought it wise to mention something that Cranston wanted to know about.
"You can expect Shrevvy," she whispered, "in about ten minutes."
Back in Raft's office, The Shadow found Weston rummaging through the realtor's desk. He'd reached Cardona by telephone, and the ace inspector was on his way. When things became desperate. Weston sometimes relied on Cardona's hunches - for which Joe was famous; though, ordinarily, the police commissioner scoffed at guesswork.
Being in one of his hunch-accepting moods, Weston still insisted that Raft's body be left untouched, on the chance that Cardona might learn something when he viewed it as it was.
The wait actually worried The Shadow. He was looking at Raft's right arm; beneath its elbow, he saw something that appeared to be a memo pad. It was very possible that such a pad would show a notation leading to someone else. However, since The Shadow was depending upon Moe's cab, it was as well to wait.
Had Moe arrived first, The Shadow might have done some deft work, sneaking the telltale pad from under the dead arm. But it happened that Cardona was the first man to appear. He entered the office and stared glumly at Raft's body. The Shadow was about to point out the memo pad, when an interruption came.
A telegraph boy had entered the real-estate office and was arguing with officers outside. They sent him in to the commissioner, and the messenger stared blankly at Raft's body.