MURDER WILL OUT
JOE CARDONA had found the drawer marked E. From it, he was drawing papers that appeared to be what Professor Biscayne wanted.
Just as Cardona was about to call to Biscayne, his eyes noted an envelope that was among the papers in his hand.
A surprised look appeared in the detective’s eyes as he saw the scrawled notation:
DETECTIVE CARDONA — IMPORTANT.
From where had this come? The room had been searched quite thoroughly, although nothing had been removed.
Until now, the papers in drawer E had not seemed to possess importance. They had been regarded merely as rough, unfinished diagrams. But this envelope had not been seen.
It must have been placed here since the death of Silas Harshaw!
The word “important” prompted Cardona to action. Without calling to Biscayne, he tore open the envelope.
It contained a folded sheet of paper. Opening this, Cardona viewed a series of neatly inscribed words, that declared short, startling statements.
This is what Cardona saw:
Request Professor Roger Biscayne to tell: (1) Why he has never stated that he knew everything that Silas Harshaw did. (2) Why he has not stated that he is a member of the Merrimac Club and had a key to Louis Glenn’s room. (3) Why he arranged the letter that told Thomas Sutton to look in the closet under the stairs. (4) Why he risked the decision that asphyxiation was a sure death for James Throckmorton. (5) Why he has not mentioned that he is the sole legatee in Arthur Wilhelm’s will.
Below was another series of closely formed tabulations:
Request Doctor George Fredericks to tell: (1) Why he claims to have warned Harshaw of a serious illness that did not exist. (2) Why he has said nothing about his knowledge of the deadly poisons that killed Louis Glenn. (3) What he did with the check he received from Thomas Sutton, in return for two professional visits. (4) What he did the night he was a guest of the Falcon Society, at James Throckmorton’s home. (5) How much he expected to receive from Roger Biscayne in return for certain services.
These statements struck home as Cardona read them. The keen-eyed detective did not miss a single word.
His mind was now grasping the vital details of a vile plot — the schemings of two men who had laid their crimes upon the first man whom they conspired to murder!
Cardona looked at Biscayne, who was working at a spot in the far corner of the room. He looked at the list again.
Before his eyes, the writing was disappearing. A moment later, the paper was a blank! But those statements were still complete in Joe Cardona’s mind!
The detective slipped his hand into his coat pocket and gripped the butt of a revolver.
At that moment, Biscayne yanked at the side of a bench and pulled open a concealed drawer. He drew forth a small, round object, that appeared to be a miniature bomb.
“Look at this!” he exclaimed, turning toward Cardona. “Just by a chance, I discovered it. A small edition of the bomb that was sent to Arthur Wilhelm.
“By the way, did you find papers in the drawer where you were looking?”
“Stand where you are,” said Cardona coldly.
The detective knew now that he was dealing with a murderer. He wanted to ask questions at once; to confound Biscayne before he joined his confederate, Fredericks, in the other room.
“What is the matter?” questioned Biscayne, in a surprised tone.
“There are some things I want to know,” asserted Cardona with strange, slow emphasis. “Just how well did you know Silas Harshaw?”
“Only as an acquaintance—”
“Stop the bluff! I’ve got you, Biscayne. Got you with the goods!
“You were in back of this. All of it. I’m going to make you squeal, you rat! You killed Harshaw. You killed Glenn. You—”
Still holding the little bomb, Biscayne smiled and shrugged his shoulders. His eyes shone harmlessly.
Cardona paused, sensing that the man was about to speak.
“I guess you have trapped me, Cardona,” he said. “But why talk about it. There is enough for you in this.
“It is large game, Cardona — and it is finished now.”
BISCAYNE was calm as he resumed. There was no hurry in his speech, no worry in his tone. He seemed assured that he had nothing to fear.
“Silas Harshaw was virtually insane,” said Biscayne. “His invention was useless. I knew it. But I wanted to obtain money from my cousin, Arthur Wilhelm.”
Cardona, keenly alert, played a clever game. The detective possessed amazing intuition at times — and he displayed that faculty now.
He was showing every appearance of being ready to side with Roger Biscayne — if the proper terms were offered.
“While I was working that way,” said Biscayne, “everything turned the way I desired.
“Weston was appointed police commissioner and wanted me to work on special cases. Silas Harshaw, who told me all he knew, spoke of his enemies.
“I came here more often than I have stated. I helped the old man arrange that pistol device. But we never loaded it; because afterward, I thought of something better.
“At my suggestion, the old man prepared the clockwork to release letters down the mail chute. I helped him to sculpture his bust. He was like a child in my hands, Cardona.
“Harshaw thought he had four enemies. He wrote all that data himself, and prepared the letters that were not sent. All were genuine.
“Wilhelm, he believed, was an enemy, because of his reluctance to invest large sums.
“I wanted Wilhelm to die. I wanted his money. In order to kill one, I needed to kill five — Harshaw’s enemies and the old man himself. I required assistance. I found it, through Fredericks.
“I was here alone, the day before Harshaw was to go away — at the false advice of Fredericks. I prepared everything.
“I loaded the clockwork apparatus with death letters. I put bullets in the gun behind the radiator — the gun which Harshaw had decided not to use.
“That was a clever idea, that radiator. I suggested it. Harshaw prepared it, working for himself, he thought. Actually, he was working for me.
“I knew that Harshaw, going on a trip, would put his own prepared letters in the chute. That meant that he had to open the radiator. He did so, after I had left. He died.”
Ending his statement of one death, Biscayne paused leisurely. Cardona seemed eager and attentive. The professor resumed his discourse, as though speaking in a classroom.
“I knew enough about Louis Glenn to plant those cigarettes in his pocket. I bought two packages of the same cigarettes months ago.
“One for Glenn’s pocket. The other, for Harshaw’s strong box. Fredericks poisoned the cigarette. Glenn died.
“Fredericks was useful with Thomas Sutton. Knowing that the old man changed physicians often, he called there, as though by a mistake. The ruse worked.
“Fredericks heard the old man talking about the gold-headed cane. The second time he was at the house, Fredericks noted the closet, while coming out alone.
“He opened the door, and instantly noted its peculiarity. It was a perfect trap. That was nicely prearranged. I cooperated with the special letter. Sutton died.”
BISCAYNE’S eyes were gleaming with malicious pleasure. For some reason, he was not concerned with time. Cardona was remembering all he heard. He wanted to hear more.
“We worked long in advance, Fredericks and I,” continued Biscayne. “Fredericks did well in the case of James Throckmorton.
“He went to a bird-society meeting at Throckmorton’s home. One of his patients was a member of the Falcon Society. Throckmorton showed them the private upstairs study, and its gas lamp.
“He told them that he was not going to work there again, until the proofs of his book returned.
“Fredericks, the last to leave, did a neat, quick job with the hose. Throckmorton died.
“So we come to the last. The simplest of all. I left the box that contained the bomb in Harshaw’s study. The typewritten note was with it.
“I told Harshaw — when I phoned him later — to see that the express company received it. He did so.
“Arthur Wilhelm should certainly have died. He was the only one who should have died. He was the only one who failed to die.”
There was a calm sureness in Biscayne’s tone. It puzzled Cardona. He waited for the explanation.
“The trail led back here, Cardona,” said Biscayne, “because I wanted it to come back here — when the deaths were finished. I had my troubles.
“That intruder — Max Parker — was killed by the trap. How and why he came, I do not know, unless Homer Briggs prompted him.
“Homer once saw the old man working at the radiator. I thought that would be useful, later on. I did not realize that Homer might be plotting, too!
“The great misfortune was the fact that Arthur Wilhelm eluded death. So, tonight, I have rectified the error.
“I have sprung my most effective weapon — old Silas Harshaw’s dummy model. That model is a fake, Cardona.
“Harshaw and I put it there to deceive his enemies. The presence of the model made it unnecessary to load the special revolver above it.
“That model has dealt death — to Arthur Wilhelm, whose death was necessary; to George Fredericks, whose death was desirable.
“I am worth millions, Cardona! I offer you the same share I offered Fredericks. Five hundred thousand dollars!”
The mention of the sum stopped Cardona. His thoughts had gone back to Silas Harshaw’s study, where Biscayne had said death lurked.
Cardona, however, was too wise to risk a sudden rush in that direction. He listened once again, feigning eagerness.
“I brought you here so you would not die,” declared Biscayne. “I wanted a witness who could explain all about Silas Harshaw — as we had falsely realized him.
“You were the best witness, I thought, because I believed you ignorant. But when I discovered — just now — that you suspected, the only course was to tell you all.
“Work with me. If you do, half a million is yours.
“We will go to the other room. There we will find three men dead from poison gas. The victims — so we will declare — of Silas Harshaw’s last fiendish scheme. I offer you wealth. Will you accept it?”
A sudden rage came over Joe Cardona. He repressed himself for the moment, and eyed Biscayne warily.
The professor detected the change. He slowly raised his hand — the hand that held the bomb.
“Wealth if you accept it,” declared Biscayne firmly. “But if you refuse — death!”
Cardona’s response was sudden action. His hand began to come from his pocket.
His gun was on its way, ready to deal death to this fiend who so deserved it. But Joe Cardona was too late.
Roger Biscayne had a more effective weapon — the bomb that was in his hand. Before Cardona’s gun was brought into action, Biscayne’s arm swung forward.
The bomb was on its way, hurtling through the air — to wreck the far end of the room, where Joe Cardona was trapped!
But though Cardona failed — though his doom seemed already here — another person acted. As Biscayne’s arm swung forward, a pistol shot cracked from the doorway.
The Shadow had fired.
Had he aimed for Biscayne, he could not have saved Cardona, for the assassin’s arm had made its fling. But The Shadow’s sterling aim was toward the object that Biscayne had hurled.
As the bomb left Biscayne’s grasp, The Shadow’s bullet shattered it!
A roar burst through the workshop. Tables, benches, cabinets — all were overturned. Bottles and glassware crashed everywhere. The place was shattered.
Joe Cardona, prone upon the floor, was half stunned by the terrific shock. But his end of the room had escaped the real force of the explosion.
The bomb had burst within three feet of the spot where Roger Biscayne had been standing!
Buried beneath the wreckage was Cardona’s enemy. Dead, perhaps; injured, certainly.
Cardona clambered to his feet. He pushed aside the debris. He found a motionless form. He dragged Roger Biscayne from the smoke-filled room.
The door burst open from the study. In dashed Commissioner Weston, followed by Arthur Wilhelm and Doctor George Fredericks.
Cardona raised himself to see the face of Fredericks — the man whom Biscayne had named as his accomplice!