The Shadow - The Sledge Hammer Crimes Part 3

Eyes burned from beneath the brim of a slouch hat. Their sparkle was matched by the glint of a gem upon The Shadow's finger. This stone was The Shadow's girasol, the only emblem that the master sleuth wore.

Fingers opened an envelope. Clippings and typed papers slipped to the desk top. Among these, The Shadow dropped Clyde Burke's scrawled paper. All were recent-proof that The Shadow, just returned to New York, had gathered up items of information gained by various agents.

Methodically, The Shadow began to make notations of his own, cataloguing matters according to the information at hand. His first tabulation concerned the Luben Expedition treasures that had been s.h.i.+pped to Chicago. The Shadow inscribed three names, each with a comment: Lewis Lemand-Yes Prentiss Petersham-Yes Elvin Lettigue-Question The comments meant that both Lemand and Petersham had known that the new curios had gone to the Chicago museum; and would not, therefore, be among the treasures stored in the Mayan Museum.

Lettigue might not have known of that s.h.i.+pment; nevertheless, he could have gained such information.

From among the clippings, The Shadow extracted one from a Chicago newspaper. It was one day old; it stated that the Luben Expedition treasures were en route to Chicago. Therefore, Lettigue could have known. So, for that matter, might any one else, if they had been on the watch for information.

The Shadow was striking toward a vital subject. He had deduced that robbery had been delayed in hope that the Luben treasures were coming to the Mayan Museum. Once it had been learned that the new items were going elsewhere, crooks had struck without further wait.

A SOFT laugh came from The Shadow's hidden lips. He had been to Chicago. There, he had watched the delivery of the Luben treasures. He had been ready to prevent crime in Illinois. Instead, it had struck in New York. The Shadow's laugh was grim.

The Shadow knew that the value of the treasures stolen from New York far exceeded those that had gone to Chicago. The gold brought back by the Luben Expedition would have been merely added swag for the robbery at the Mayan Museum. To-day's clippings from New York newspapers gave full details of the robbery. All that The Shadow needed was an account of various testimonies. These were included in Clyde Burke's notes. The Shadow wrote three names: Petersham Rome Lettigue Keen eyes began a comparison of the testimonies. They coincided, except for a detail that Clyde had marked. That was the matter of the clicks that had been audible in Lemand's office. Petersham and Rome remembered them. Lettigue did not.

Clyde had added the explanation: Lettigue's deafness. After it he had written: "Petersham's opinion," with a question mark attached. The Shadow understood. Petersham had begun a comment, but had refrained.

The Shadow knew why.

Petersham had evidently thought it significant that Lettigue's deafness had been spasmodic. Lettigue had not heard the clicks; but he had heard Lemand dismiss Rome. Others had let that paradox pa.s.s. To Petersham, it meant something; to Weston, nothing. To The Shadow, it could mean either. He required further facts.

The desk drawer slithered open. From it, The Shadow produced the Mayan mallet. Weston had replaced the stone hammer in the drawer; then had forgotten it. This piece of evidence should have gone to headquarters. Cardona would probably pick it up in the morning.

The Shadow examined the mallet. His lips phrased a questioning laugh. Here, again, new facts were needed; and in this case, The Shadow had uncovered a point upon which no one else had speculated.

The Mayan hammer was evidence only because it could have been the implement with which Lemand was slain. The stone-headed weapon was suited to a murderer's use. Yet there was no proof that it was the actual implement that had been employed. Others would realize that fact later. The Shadow had antic.i.p.ated a conclusion that would doubtless occur to other investigators.

The Shadow was checking other summaries. Here he found likely probabilities. His hand penned brief comments: Crime planned beforehand. Burglary.

An interval; then The Shadow added: Added crime if necessary. Murder.

To these he added a double statement: Burglary postponed in hope of added spoils.

Murder rendered necessary through circ.u.mstances.

Murder. The word referred to Lewis Lemand. It was logical that The Shadow's next items should concern the dead curator.

Lewis Lemand. Had records. Heard clicks. THE SHADOW pondered. The matter of the records was an important one. According to Petersham, Lemand alone knew their actual content. Many persons, however, might have known full well that the records could prove damaging, if found. Theft of the records would therefore be important. So would the death of Lemand, with one proviso. The Shadow inscribed one word: Connection Would Lemand have guessed the reason for the theft of the records? Only if something about the robbery had shown a definite connection with the records themselves. This indicated that some recent happening must have been important enough to prove a clue after the robbery. A clue to Lemand, if the curator had lived.

Clicks The Shadow added that one word. Testimony showed that the clicks had troubled Lemand. They could well be the connection. Again, The Shadow considered the three names: Petersham-Rome-Lettigue.

Each brought speculation.

Petersham admitted hearing the clicks. He also said that he had never seen the records. Hence Petersham-according to his testimony- was not as versed in matters as was Lemand. But an unknown murderer might have believed that Petersham had access to the records.

Why, then, had Petersham not been murdered also? The Shadow had an answer that fitted facts.

Petersham's visit to the museum had been brief; almost unexpected. A plotting murderer would not have known that Petersham had heard the clicks.

Lettigue's case was different. He came to the museum more frequently. An intended murderer would have discounted Lettigue's deafness, and considered it possible that the millionaire might have heard the clicks. But Lettigue, too, had been spared. His case was the reverse of Petersham's. Lettigue could not have had access to the records.

The Shadow had skipped Rome in his summary. He concentrated on the attendant's name. With a single stroke, he eliminated it as unimportant in the future. Rome was no criminal. His release would soon be granted by the police.

Had Rome been working with a murderer, he would not have behaved in the fas.h.i.+on that he did. He would have guessed that Petersham had heard the clicks. Lemand had called attention to them immediately after the lawyer's departure.

Moreover, Rome would not have admitted to the police that he was negligent in leaving the front door unlocked. He would, however, have seen to it that he had an alibi covering all his actions from the time that he left the museum at six o'clock the evening before.

Rome, as The Shadow considered him, was nothing more than an ordinary museum attendant-so minor a factor that even the murderer had not troubled himself about the fellow. Rome had keys to the museum; but they were not necessary. Any one could have hidden in an exhibit room, earlier in the day.

THERE was another possibility, also. The Shadow marked it with brief notations. Rome could have been a victim-but for a different purpose than Lemand. The murderer could have lurked outside the museum until closing time, intending to follow Rome afterward and see to the attendant's death, thereby gaining Rome's keys.

In that case, the killer would have noted that the door remained unlocked after Lettigue's entry. He wouldhave taken advantage of the opportunity to enter, entirely unnoticed. To let Rome leave-as was usual-and then deal with Lemand when the curator was alone.

The Shadow dwelt for several moments upon this possibility. His low-toned laugh showed that it fitted with his reconstruction of the crime. Then a hand thrust forward; the tug of the lamp cord brought blackness. Papers crinkled; cloth swished. The Shadow was on the move.

AT intervals, the glimmer of a flashlight appeared within the corridors of the main floor. The Shadow reached a flight of marble stairs. He descended to the lower floor. Here his progress was stopped before a pair of formidable doors.

These were the time-locked barriers. They stood unscathed, a proof that the murderer had not formed inside contact with the burglars. The Shadow's flashlight glimmered everywhere. Keen eyes noted that the big doors were of the best construction. It would have been difficult to smash through those barriers.

Yet no more difficult than to break through the outside masonry, which had been wired with a burglary alarm. The Shadow considered that fact as he stood in darkness. Again, he came to a point that others had totally neglected.

An attack on the inside doors would have been preferable to the cras.h.i.+ng of the outside masonry, for it would have been free from notice. Provided, of course, that crooks could have gained access to the interior of the museum. Such access should have been easy; for the murderer, himself, was inside with Lemand's keys.

To any investigator other than The Shadow, this deduction would have signified that the murderer and the burglars had been independent, neither knowing of the other's plans. But The Shadow did not jump to that conclusion. Instead, he started to a different spot of investigation.

His light went out. When it glimmered again, The Shadow was back again on the ground floor, picking the lock of the museum's front door. This barrier did not prove difficult. Lemand had relied upon the time locks downstairs to protect the one inner room where the real treasures were kept.

The door opened slowly. The Shadow moved out into complete darkness. He could hear the pace of the guarding bluecoat. Slowly, amid gloom, The Shadow probed the outer lock, to render the door as secure as before. Then, with silent glide, he sidled along the front of the museum.

A pa.s.sing silhouette against the white wall. Such was The Shadow, as he moved unnoticed. Minutes pa.s.sed. Behind the museum, blackness converged with the yawning cavity through which burglars had entered. The Shadow entered the rifled lower room.

THE flashlight glimmered cautiously, its glowing orb a mere six-inch circle. Inspection showed that the burglars had ignored the big inner doors. They had known their job: to rifle this lower room and to complete the work rapidly. The Shadow returned to the cavity.

There, his flashlight glimmered on the edges of the masonry. Gloved fingers stroked loose stone. Bits of brick crumbled under a touch. At one spot, The Shadow's hand dug to an eight-inch depth. The Shadow's laugh sounded guardedly.

The master investigator had scored another hit. He had found out why the burglars had chosen this outside course. Sledges, perhaps, had been used to begin the entry; but they had not been needed long.

The rear wall of the museum had given way like tissue. Marble, bricks and mortar had failed as an obstruction. But in this one place only. Digging harder at the crumbling edges, The Shadow came tofirmer masonry.

Torn wires came beneath the flashlight's circle. The glow moved along the ground. No signs of loose-ripped wiring could be seen. The burglars had done a quick and easy job; they had gathered strands of connecting wires and had taken them along.

The Shadow knew why. Because those wires would have lain as evidence. Something about them would have told the story that the police had not gained from smashed masonry. It had taken The Shadow to discover that some force stronger than sledges had first worked within this wall, to prepare the way for entry.

The Shadow moved out to the sidewalk. His flashlight blinked and became dark as he stepped along beside the wall. The reflection of a dim street lamp served to outline his cloaked shape against the whiteness of an undemolished surface.

Straight across the street was blackness-a narrow opening between two sections of the row of old houses. The presence of that darkened depth must have come to The Shadow as an inkling of danger.

Dark was The Shadow's habitat; he knew how it could serve a lurker.

Also, The Shadow had made discovery. He had found a clue that crooks had failed to cover. A reason why men of crime might still be on the watch. These were the reasons why The Shadow stopped, intent.

They accounted for the fact that his keen ears were strained to hear the barely audible stir that came from darkness.

THE SHADOW whirled from his conspicuous spot. His limber body made a sidelong dive back toward the darkness of the cavity. With that sudden, twisting move came a sharp pop from the darkness between the houses. A sighing hiss sounded close to The Shadow's dropping shoulder. There was an impact; a crackle from against the wall.

Dropped to one arm, The Shadow raised the other. An automatic barked from his gloved fist. Spurts of flame jabbed with each explosion. The Shadow had whipped a .45 from beneath his cloak; but his booming fire was too late.

Clattering footsteps were speeding through the pa.s.sage across the way. A thwarted a.s.sa.s.sin was das.h.i.+ng for a street beyond. The man, whoever he was, had been shrewd enough to take to his heels. The Shadow knew that pursuit would be useless.

From somewhere came the shrill note of a police whistle. Guarding officers had heard The Shadow's gunfire. They would arrive with speed. Yet The Shadow still had time to deliver a flashlight's glimmer at the base of the wall.

The glow showed a mashed bullet. It was a dumdum that had come with sufficient drive to deliver death, had it found its target. The Shadow picked up the slug; then blinked off his flashlight. The would-be killer had dispatched his single shot from a high-powered air gun. The silent weapon had failed its purpose, thanks to The Shadow's quick dive.

Torches glimmered. Two bluecoats had arrived. They scoured the area behind the museum. They decided that they had heard the echoes of an automobile motor's backfire. They departed, back to their stations. When they had gone, a gliding figure moved from the darkness of a house front.

The Shadow was departing. He had learned all that he required. His clue of the crumbled wall would be sufficient. For coupled to it had been his quick escape from a lurking killer's fire. Sure proof that crooks had hoped to deal with any chance searcher who might learn too much. A thrust in the dark had failed against The Shadow. Through its foiled delivery, the master sleuth had gained full knowledge that he had reached the beginning of the trail.

CHAPTER V. CRIME BREAKS AGAIN.

"LOOKS like the mallet bunch again Burke."

It was the voice of Donney, a.s.sistant city editor of the Cla.s.sic, that gave the news across the telephone.

Another morning had brought a summons to a scene of crime. Clyde Burke, hanging up the receiver, was mechanical in action. He stared from the window of his living room.

Two nights ago, crooks had sledged their way into the Mayan Museum. The Shadow had been absent from New York that night. Clyde, himself, had failed to catch an inkling of approaching crime. With The Shadow away, the museum robbers had done their work unmolested.

Last night, however, The Shadow had returned. Clyde had seen him entering the Mayan Museum. Clyde had been confident that crime would halt. This very morning, Donney's voice had again brought the word of a successful burglary: One so like the first that the perpetrators were obviously those who had rifled the Mayan Museum. This time, they had sledged their way into a jeweler's vault. Parker Clayborne, wholesale dealer in precious stones, had been robbed of gems valued at a quarter million.

Why had The Shadow not foreseen this crime?

Clyde, as he pondered, found the answer. Crooks were striking from the dark, picking spots that could not be located in advance. One thing alone could end their game. That would have to be inside knowledge of the criminal plans. It was apparent that The Shadow, whatever his trail, had not yet penetrated the sh.e.l.l that surrounded the criminal operations.

FORTY minutes after Donney's call, Clyde Burke arrived at Clayborne's. The jeweler's office was located on the second floor of an old building near Times Square. Policemen were on duty along the side street when Clyde arrived. The reporter gained admittance and reached the office itself.

Weston and Cardona were there before him. They received the reporter affably. Cardona pointed out how crime had been done. The job had been a simple one.

Clayborne's suite consisted of two offices. A strong door guarded the outer room. It formed the only entrance from the hall; and the door had not been touched.

Between the outer office and the inner was a ma.s.sive metal grille, protected by a time lock and a burglary alarm. The crooks had ignored this barrier also.

They had gained their entrance to the inner room from an empty office located next to Clayborne's suite.

They had sledged their way through a one-foot wall of brick, just as they had at the Mayan Museum.

This wall, however, had no wiring. The task had been simpler and more rapid.

Clyde saw the gaping hole, a low, three-foot opening. Once through it, the burglars had easily picked out all of Clayborne's valuable gems; for the jeweler had depended upon his grilled strong door to keep out thieves.

Clyde and Cardona stepped through the hole into the empty office from which the crooks had worked.

There had been no murder in connection with this burglary. This time, though, the crooks had left an openclue. It was a large, two-headed sledge, its handle snapped at the middle. The head of the sledge was swaddled in heavy cloth.

"That's how they prevented noise," explained Cardona. "And the fellow who handled this mallet had plenty of beef. Plenty of it!"

There was a knowing tone in Cardona's voice. Clyde gained an immediate impression that the ace had made a guess as to the ident.i.ty of the crook himself. Cardona must have noted that his tone was a give-away, for he quickly changed his tack.

"No finger prints on the handle," was Joe's comment. "The fellow must have been wearing gloves. We don't know who he is."

CLYDE was looking at the broken handle of the sledge. He noted that the splinters projected from one side, an indication that the tool had been smashed by a side stroke. He observed also that the unsplintered side had a rounded mark that made a slight depression. Half of this circle was on the lower portion of the handle; half on the upper.

"What gets us," declared Cardona, "is how they did the job so quickly and so quietly. There's a watchman in this building. He didn't hear a thing."

"He made his rounds past here?" queried Clyde.

"Every half hour," nodded Cardona. "After midnight he began with an inspection of the empty office."

"And after that?"

"He didn't come in the empty office until morning. But he stopped by the door on every round."

"Maybe the crooks used a skeleton key and stayed in the empty office."

"That's what they did do. They worked between times. But they didn't have many intervals, with the watchman about. He'd have heard the sledges every time he came to this floor, even though they were m.u.f.fled."

Clyde made no comment. Cardona pointed across the office to an old, solid-backed bookcase, which, with a desk, were the only items of furniture in the unoccupied office.

"That bookcase was originally in front of the broken wall," explained Cardona. "The crooks moved it before they began their sledge work."

An idea spurred Clyde.

"Say!" exclaimed the reporter. "Maybe they did the job some time ago! They could have battered through the wall; then covered it with the bookcase -"

Joe's snorted chuckle stopped Clyde short.

"Better stick to reporting," joked Cardona. "You're no detective, Burke."

"But if they had smashed the hole beforehand -"

"It would have been seen from Clayborne's side of the wall."