Fading gradually, the stone was a star sapphire no longer, but just poor quartz.
"You can answer the next question," The Shadow told Sayre. "Suppose the ink to be a virulent poison, oozing because of the heat of the finger that wore it, working its way into a man's pores -"
Sayre interrupted. He defined the very poison by its Latin name. The Shadow listened while Sayre gave more facts; how such a poison, slowly administered, would be absorbed through the entire blood stream, bringing eventual death. In the form of blue crystals, the poison, made into a solution, would have the same hue!
Death's riddle was solved by The Shadow!
Much, however, remained. Foremost was the tracing of the master murderer. The Shadow reached for Sayre's telephone; the physician heard him call the Cobalt Club and ask for Commissioner Weston. For the first time, The Shadow was using Cranston's tone. He seemed startled by what he heard over the phone.
"Another death?" he queried. "A man named Louis Talney killed in an explosion?... What? Someone called Raft's office... The last, you think! Well, that is helpful. I see. No other leads beyond Talney... I'll drop in later, at the club -"
Rising, The Shadow turned toward Sayre, who was seated beside Talney's couch.
"When he comes around," spoke The Shadow, in the whispered tone that suited his cloaked guise, "send him to the Cobalt Club. Tell him not to give his name; he is merely to ask for Cranston."
"But if the commissioner will be there -"
"It will be the last place in the world" - The Shadow's tone was a whispered laugh - "where Commissioner Weston would expect to meet a dead man named Louis Talney!"
The Shadow was gone while Dr. Sayre was considering the unimpeachable merits of that particular plan.
With a laugh of his own, Sayre turned again to his patient.
It took ten minutes for Moe's cab to get from Sayre's office to the Metrolite. When The Shadow alighted at the hotel, he was Cranston again. Inside the Metrolite, he found Margo waiting, and quietly apologized, as any gentleman would have, for coming to dinner at nine when he should have arrived at eight. Margo accepted the apology and asked no explanation. But while they dined, she gained the definite impression that Lamont Cranston, though as leisurely as ever, expected to keep further appointments before this night was ended.
CHAPTER XIV. MASTER OF CRIME
COMMISSIONER WESTON was very disappointed by the sudden way in which his friend, Lamont Cranston, lost all interest in the strange chain of quintuple death. Dropping into the club at about ten o'clock, Cranston listened to all that Weston had to say; then he yawned and decided to go home.
"But these are unexplainable riddles!" Weston exclaimed. "Men slain by a subtle poison administered in an unknown manner. We must solve these deaths! Think of the menace of a type of murder that never fails!"
"It failed the last time," reminded Cranston, "in Talney's case." The statement carried far more truth that Weston suspected. The commissioner did not catch the point behind it.
"Talney died!" he insisted. "He was blasted out of existence. Don't you realize it, Cranston?"
"Of course I realize it. Again, I say the perfect murder failed. They had to bomb Talney, instead of poisoning him, and that, I hope, will be the end of it."
Accompanying Cranston out through the foyer, Weston stopped impatiently while his friend paused to shake hands with a man who was waiting for him. Cranston didn't bother to introduce his acquaintance.
He just waved to Weston and went out with the arrival.
The commissioner noted that the man had a solemn, squarish face, but soon forgot it. As yet, Weston had seen no photographs of Talney, a matter on which The Shadow had checked while chatting with the commissioner.
In Cranston's limousine, Talney showed quite plainly that Sayre had brought him fully around. He was very voluble in describing all that had happened, including his recollections of The Shadow.
"Dr. Sayre said that you might help me," concluded Talney. "He spoke of previous deaths and told me that you knew something about them, since you were a friend of the police commissioner."
"I do," returned The Shadow in Cranston's tone. "Five men died, all wearing rings with colorless gems.
"Not rings with star sapphires?"
"No. Rings like the one you said your servant wore. Wait - I think I can recall their names -"
He spoke off the list, keenly watching Talney. Though the man recognized none of them, he was definitely ill at ease. Suddenly, Talney blurted:
"Sayre said the rings could have been poisoned!"
"Poisoned?"
"Yes!" Talney was trembling. "He said it might account for them changing from blue to some other color."
Cranston's face registered amazement. Talney gripped his new friend's arm.
"There is much I have to tell you!" he confided. "Dr. Sayre preferred that I should talk to you, as he is very busy. You must hear it all!"
With that, Talney unfolded the history of the secret six, the group that Armand Lenfell had sponsored for the worthy purpose of selling refugee gems, at proper prices, throughout the country. Talney, of course, was a member of the group, but he had known only Lenfell.
"Only Lenfell." Talney's tone was hollow. "The same was true of the others. Until tonight, I had no idea who the rest might be. But from what you tell me, I am sure that they were four of the men who died so mysteriously."
LINKED deaths!
Those had been a problem, even to The Shadow, but now he understood. It showed the craft of a mighty mind behind the reign of murder. Except as members of the secret six, Talney and the four victims had been definitely disassociated. That was why steps had been taken to link them!
It was a move that led the law in the wrong direction, not the right. It made it seem that they had known one another, instead of being men who met only incognito. In Cranston's deliberate style, The Shadow suggested it to Talney, and the living dead man responded by ejaculating the very name that The Shadow expected:
"Armand Lenfell!"
Coolly, The Shadow inquired:
"You think that Lenfell is the murderer?"
"Who else could be?" demanded Talney. "He knew us all, he alone. It was his idea to cut the Star of Delhi into six portions and have Walder exhibit it. But he kept the real Star for himself, and had five poisoned rings made instead!"
"There were six rings -"
"Yes," interposed Talney. "Lenfell kept one, but obviously, he would not have filled it with the same deadly liquid. That ring, however, will prove Lenfell to be a murderer! We must stop and call the police at once!"
Talney saw Cranston stare idly from the window of the slowly rolling limousine, which was piloted by a very patient chauffeur.
"We are in Central Park," came Cranston's tone, "with no phone booths near. But it would be unwise to call the police. They believe you dead, Talney."
"I shall come to life -"
"And make yourself a target again?" Cranston's head shook slowly. "Quite unwise, Talney. The Shadow might not arrive, the next time, to save you!"
Talney slumped back into the cushions. He rallied, suddenly, to announce:
"I shall go direct to Armand Lenfell!"
"To accuse him?" interposed Cranston. "That would be dangerous. You would be giving away the fact that you live, straight to the man that plotted murder. He wouldn't have to wait for the police to proclaim the fact."
"But someone must go to Lenfell!"
The Shadow nodded, as he pretended to give the statement deep consideration. Then, in Cranston's slowest tone:
"I shall go," he said. "Lenfell will not suspect me. Stanley, my chauffeur, will take you to my home in New Jersey, and you can remain there, Talney, as long as it is necessary to play dead. I shall tell you later how I make out with Lenfell."