Rutledge Mann was busy in his finely furnished investment office. His mind was not on stocks and bonds. Instead, he was studying a mass of newspaper clippings and typewritten reports. It was after dusk, and the skyline of busy Manhattan formed a glowing spectacle from Mann's window. But the quiet, deliberate investment broker had no time for enjoying such a view. He was centered entirely upon the work before him.
His friends knew Rutledge Mann as a person whose business was securities. Actually, Mann was a most important and dependable agent of the mystery man called The Shadow.
Here, in this comfortable office, he assembled data and compiled reports in a methodical and efficient manner. The material upon which he was now engaged formed a most interesting problem. It had been gained from numerous sources, and important portions of it had been supplied by agents of The Shadow.
Upon one sheet, Mann had compiled notations in reference to Herbert Brockley. To the police, the death of the wealthy American had become a closed issue. Three Apaches had been implicated in Brockley's murder. Two had been killed while resisting capture. They had died at the hands of Parisian gendarmes. The third was a fugitive in France. But to Rutledge Mann, the matter of Brockley's death was not ended.
The investment broker was marking down facts in reference to Herbert Brockley's history. Briefly, Brockley had been successful in business in New York, and it had not been difficult to trace his contacts. A list of a dozen names comprised the persons with whom he had, at one time or another, had definite dealings.
Outstanding in that list was the name of Sherwood Mayo, the multimillionaire. Brockley and Mayo had been associates in certain mining enterprises, some years before. Details were meager, but they showed a definite connection between the two men. Rutledge Mann drew a line under Mayo's name.
There was apparently no reason why he should choose that one particular name from the list, unless he might have been impressed by Mayo's wealth.
The reason became evident, however, when Mann picked up another sheet that was headed with the name of U. Grant Chadwick.
There were only a few names here; and one of them was that of Sherwood Mayo. Mann had made notations. These stated that Grant Chadwick and the multimillionaire had at one time been partners in the manufacture of safes; but that Mayo had branched out on his own.
The company which Mayo now controlled — the Mayo Safe Lock Co. - was a dominating concern in the industry. The original company — the Holyoke Safe Manufactory — was still in business, and it was assumed that Grant Chadwick had retained a large share of the original stock. Mann took pains to mention that shares of Holyoke stock were not available, although they had been sought by purchasers. The concern, although small, held rights to important patents, some of recent issue, and did a profitable business on that account.
The coincidence of Sherwood Mayo's name on both lists made that name conspicuous.
The importance of the matter became still more noticeable when Rutledge Mann referred to the data that concerned Denby Chadwick.
Here, the investment broker had a mass of facts, for newspaper clippings were in abundance, and there were also records that had come in that day from Harry Vincent.
From these records, Mann wrote his report.
Denby Chadwick's position with the Mayo Safe Lock Co. was gained through his connection with Sherwood Mayo. Denby Chadwick has had varied sales experience. He obtained the job as manager of the Philadelphia office of Mayo's company less than a year ago.
He probably used his uncle's name to secure the position. The fact that Grant Chadwick and Sherwood Mayo were once associated in business is significant. Inquiry has shown that the
Mayo Safe Lock Co. pays large royalties annually to the Holyoke Safe Manufactory for use of patented appliances. This shows an indirect business relationship still existing between Grant Chadwick and Sherwood Mayo.
Investigation by Harry Vincent (data inclosed) states that Denby Chadwick showed incompetence on previous jobs and that his present position was a great jump over anything he did before. It is assumed that influence had everything to do with his appointment in his present capacity.
As if in corroboration, Mann referred to a report marked by Harry Vincent. He nodded as he read a paragraph:
Denby Chadwick spends very little time in the office. Stuart Bruxton has been in three times, trying to make a business appointment with him. He has been unsuccessful.
Charles Brady, the assistant manager, handles practically all of the business.
The excuse is given that Chadwick is busy settling the affairs of his uncle's estate, and that the old man's death has been so great a strain upon him that he has been unable to come to the office.
But this is only a pretext, as the stenographer stated twice that Chadwick never came into the office before noon, and that sometimes he did not come in at all.
The one point that filled Rutledge Mann with perplexity was the situation that existed between Denby Chadwick and his uncle at the time of the old man's death. It was obvious that the two had disagreed about something, although it could not have been extremely serious.
Denby Chadwick had lived at the old house for several years. Grant Chadwick was his only relation. The old man was eccentric, and his frugality must have been annoying to Denby.
The uncle, in turn, had evidently regarded Denby as a ne'er-do-well up until the time when the young man had obtained his position with the Mayo Safe Lock Co.
It was after that time that Denby Chadwick had abandoned his uncle's home. Perhaps the young man had felt an independence in his new position, and had taken advantage of his new circumstances to depart from an environment that had always been distasteful to him.
Whatever the situation, it could not have been serious, for Denby Chadwick was sole legatee to his uncle's estate. This announcement had been made by Egbert Cromwell, the Philadelphia attorney who managed the affairs of Grant Chadwick.
The estate was now in the course of settlement, and Denby Chadwick had come into considerable wealth — the exact amount unknown.
Rutledge Mann sat back in his swivel chair and smiled languidly as he looked toward the ceiling. It was not his business to deal in theory. His duty was to assemble facts.
At the same time, The Shadow placed no restrictions on his agent's reports. They were allowed to express themselves in any way they chose. Hence, Mann, as a matter of custom, was indulging in speculation on these strange connections.
He was convinced that blackmail was at the bottom of the whole matter. Herbert Brockley had gone abroad to escape some threat or menace.
In Paris, Brockley had been befriended by Wallace Powell. He had given some information — in the form of documents — to Powell. That information may have concerned himself; it probably concerned others also.
Powell had sought to sell the information. He had dealt with a blackmailer in New York, and had made the arrangements for a meeting near Baltimore. There, Powell had been killed — and the slayers had obtained the information without the necessity of paying him ten thousand dollars. Harry Vincent's rescue of Stuart Bruxton had not only been an excellent deed; it had also gained a new secondary agent for The Shadow — a man who could identify Grady, the killer, and the old man whom Grady served. These persons were active workers for a mythical blackmail ring. But who were they? Harry Vincent had visited the burned house the day after he had rescued Stuart Bruxton. On that visit, Harry had drawn a complete blank. The house was a stone-walled ruin; its cellar was a mass of debris. Harry presumed, in his report, that the body of Jefferson, the hitch-hiker, had been placed on the ground floor, to be destroyed amidst the flames; but there was no direct evidence of this. Traces of the murderous pair — Grady and his chief — were totally lacking. The finding of Stuart Bruxton's car had perplexed the local police.
The automobile had been stripped of license plates and luggage; other identifying marks had been obliterated. The theory was that the car had been stolen; that it had crashed through the bridge; and that the men in it had taken refuge in the old house. There, they had started a fire which had gotten beyond control; then they had fled from the flames.
The police were confident that they had solved the case in its entirety. They saw only accidental incendiarism — not murder — and Harry had made no effort to enlighten them. The murder of Grant Chadwick, following so closely upon the killing of Wallace Powell, was highly significant to Rutledge Mann.
With Denby Chadwick completely cleared of suspicion, it seemed quite plausible that Grady was the man who had visited the old house near Chester, where Grant Chadwick lived alone. The connection between Herbert Brockley and Sherwood Mayo was similar to the one between Mayo and Grant Chadwick.
Had Grady come to threaten old Chadwick, putting forward a proposition of blackmail on the strength of what had been learned from Powell's documents?
That was Mann's theory, and he considered it a good one. But even more important was the possibility that the future might hold.
Two evil men, agents of some unknown leader, were embarked upon a career of crime. It was logical to suppose that other lives were threatened. Who would be next?
Mann's eyes rested upon the notes before him. One name, alone, seemed to stare at him.
That was the name of Sherwood Mayo.
That was where the trail led — to Mayo! Four victims had already fallen prey to monsters of crime; Brockley, Jefferson, Powell, and Grant Chadwick. Rutledge Mann foresaw protective measures. Whatever scheme had caused the death of Grant Chadwick, it was reasonable to suppose that the killers had not obtained full measure.
If the old man had refused to meet their demands, it might be that he had passed on a heritage of danger to his nephew. Denby Chadwick had already been suspected of murdering his uncle. Would his life be safe now?
The Shadow's purpose was clear to Rutledge Mann. With Harry Vincent and Stuart Bruxton on the watch, Denby Chadwick would be assured of some security. But there was another man who must be protected — Sherwood Mayo, the multimillionaire.
Foreseeing this, Mann turned to another report. He referred to a list which he had prepared beneath the name of Sherwood Mayo. This list was entirely of Mann's compilation. It had not been difficult for him, with many influential friends, to obtain reliable data concerning such an important person as Sherwood Mayo.
The investment broker realized that this list might prove entirely useless; but he had prepared it with the view of picking out certain individuals who were inimical to Sherwood Mayo. Somewhere in this list, Mann felt sure, would be found the name of a man who might seek to injure Sherwood Mayo. Such a man might bear watching — as one who might possess information which could be used by blackmailers.
Finishing this last list, Mann gathered up all the material intended for The Shadow and folded the papers into a long, official-looking envelope. He tucked the envelope in his pocket and left the office, carefully locking the door behind him.
Broadway was aglow as Rutledge Mann rode down the busy thoroughfare. He discharged the cab at Twenty-Third Street, and sauntered along until he came to a dilapidated building. Even at night, this time-worn structure looked miserable and untidy. The rattly door was unlocked.
Mann entered and ascended a rickety stairs. He was in one of New York's most antiquated office buildings. In a gloomy, ill-lighted hallway, Rutledge Mann stopped before a door. The name on the glass pane was barely distinguishable. It simply read:
B. Jonas
Mann's envelope went through a slit in the door. The investment broker shrugged his shoulders and hurried from the gloomy building.
These visits were distasteful to the fastidious businessman, even in the daytime. At night, they were even more repugnant. The dreary atmosphere of the place was miserable.
Yet the visits were necessary, for that mysterious door with the cobwebbed window was a barrier chosen by The Shadow. Letters thrust into its mail chute invariably reached the mysterious man of the dark.
Rutledge Mann was thinking of The Shadow as he rode in a cab along Twenty-Third Street. But now, with his work done, and his mind relieved from perplexing matters, the investment broker noticed the things about him.
He heard the deep-throated whistle of an ocean liner as his cab sped westward. Some ship was coming into dock.
Then, the taxi turned up an avenue, and Mann, slightly weary, leaned back to rest during the remainder of his ride to the Cobalt Club, his favorite spot during leisure evening hours. The whistle which Rutledge Mann had heard carried a significance which the investment broker did not appreciate. It was like a heralding note, announcing the arrival of someone of importance.
Various celebrities were landing from the S. S. Gallitania. Reporters were busy seeking interviews. The newspapermen, however, paid no attention to a tall man who wore a dark coat and hat. This individual strode solemnly down the gangplank, looking neither to right nor left.
Small news, this, a silent, cold-faced man leaving an ocean liner without companions.
This arrival brushed against a reporter as he stepped from the gangplank. The news gatherer turned to see a hawk-like countenance and a pair of sharp, gleaming eyes.
He was startled for an instant; then turned back to await the arrival of an expected celebrity. What a story that reporter missed! He had seen The Shadow, landing from the Gallitania!
A light clicked in a dark, silent room. Then two white hands appeared beneath it — long, slender hands that seemed like detached creatures of life. Upon the third finger of the left hand gleamed a fire opal, the symbolic jewel of The Shadow!
The hands produced an envelope. They tore open the end. From the packet came the papers which Rutledge Mann had placed in the mail chute of the office marked "B. Jonas." In a twinkling, the papers were spread. Eyes from the dark were examining the data which The Shadow had received from his trusted agent.
Silence reigned while The Shadow, hidden in darkness, perused the compilations. At last, only two papers remained. One was Mann's own statement; the other was the list that accompanied it. A long white forefinger rested upon a paragraph in Mann's statement. The words to which it pointed read as follows:
I feel that in all this accumulated data must be the key to the mysterious deaths which have occurred. More than that, I feel sure that other crimes are planned, and clues to them are here. Because of this, I have paid particular attention to the name of Sherwood Mayo, and have prepared a list of men who might be classed as his enemies. Two of Mayo's friends have been killed. Like Denby Chadwick, he, too, should he watched.
A pencil appeared, and across this single paragraph the white hand wrote the word "Correct." Then the paper was laid aside. The moving finger considered each name in the list of Mayo's antagonists. Each name bore a brief account beneath it.
The pencil was busy. It crossed out name by name until only two remained. The finger checked the first:
Sidney Delmuth. Advertising man and promoter. Has been connected with various businesses competitive with enterprises backed by Sherwood Mayo. Once brought suit against Mayo, but matter was settled out of court. Mayo has threatened lawsuits against Delmuth on several occasions, but has never gone through with them. Delmuth has reputation for shrewd dealings.
The hand moved to the next name:
Paul Hawthorne. Real-estate man of doubtful wealth. Reputed to be on the verge of bankruptcy; also to have a considerable amount of money. Most of his enterprises have failed. Rumor that he makes his money and lets others lose. Has been sued by many individuals. Only opposition to Mayo is matter of summer resort in Massachusetts, which Hawthorne promoted in opposition to Mayo. Hawthorne not only located resort near Mayo's Massachusetts estate, but managed to buy acres which Mayo had intended to purchase. Hawthorne managed this through Mayo's neglect to exercise option on ground. In compiling his list, Mann had marked Delmuth as being one of the most likely persons to be opposed to Sherwood Mayo. He had mentioned Hawthorne as mere possibility.
The Shadow, in taking advantage of Mann's suggestion, had apparently agreed with the opinion on Delmuth, but not with the one given on Hawthorne. For these two names had been selected; all others ignored.
Now, as though inspired by an afterthought of the master brain, the hands drew forth another paper. This was a report sent by Harry Vincent, which Rutledge Mann had seen fit to forward. The report was detailed to the extreme. It described the house in which Grant Chadwick had been murdered. It gave the exact location of the building, and a diagram marked the position of the deserted shacks near the railroad. These old houses were only a few hundred yards from Grant Chadwick's home.
It also told of Harry's visit to Havre de Grace, Maryland. He had gone there on the train that Denby Chadwick had taken a few nights before. He had visited the farmhouse where Chadwick had stayed. Attached to the report was a copy of the railway time-table.
The Shadow's hands held these two papers momentarily; then laid them aside, beyond the range of the luminous circle that was cast by the shaded lamp. The hands busied themselves with a sheet of paper and a fountain pen.
In neatly formed letters, a code message was inscribed. It was folded and tucked in an envelope. Using another pen, the hand wrote:
Instructions to be given Stuart Bruxton.
This was inclosed in a larger envelope, that already bore the typewritten name and address of Harry Vincent.
A click sounded. The room was plunged in darkness.
The Shadow's work was ended. In a short time, this mysterious man had gone over all of his agent's material. Nothing he had done indicated either a definite solution or an involved campaign. The notation of certain facts — an order concerning Stuart Bruxton — that was all.
But from the midst of the darkness of that little room came a soft, creepy laugh. It was mirthless and foreboding. Echoing weirdly from the walls, the laugh was more expressive than words. The sinister understanding of that echoed sound indicated a knowledge of unknown matters. It presaged defeat and destruction for those who thrived in crime. Had The Shadow, from his brief perusal of his agent's statements, gained the key to mysterious deaths and looming dangers?
Only The Shadow knew!