The laugh of The Shadow!
The echoes of that sinister sound were ringing in the ears of Detective Joe Cardona, as he returned to his hotel in downtown Philadelphia.
Staring at the window, he reflectively chewed the end of his unlighted cigar. Cardona faced a problem of deductive addition.
He was trying to put two events together — to find a reason for the strange happenings which had disturbed the spirit circles in New York and here.
It was obvious that one hinged upon the other. Yet death had struck upon only one occasion. Assuming that The Shadow had been at the seance of Professor Jacques in the Hotel Dalban, there was a logical reason why the mysterious man should have left when the death dagger reached the heart of Herbert Harvey.
That was the way of The Shadow — to disappear when mystery reached its height. But what was The Shadow's purpose at the home of Anita Marie? As on the previous occasion, he had probably gone there to shatter a display of fakery. If so, he had succeeded. Nevertheless, Cardona could not explain the sudden departure of The Shadow. Mentally, the detective identified the hawk-faced man and The Shadow as one. Cardona knew well that The Shadow was a master of disguise; that he possessed the amazing ability of changing his face almost at will.
Cardona had never before seen the man who had been at Anita Marie's. But the detective could not forget the eyes that had peered from that impenetrable, masklike face.
The eyes of The Shadow!
Cardona had seen those eyes in the past. Peering from beneath the brim of a slouch hat, they had flashed vengeance upon men of evil.
The hawkish face of the man at the seance had been as effective a disguise as an actual mask, but it had not hidden the sparkling eyes.
Cardona made his summary. There was a connection of some sort between the psychic circle in New York and the one in Philadelphia.
Professor Raoul Jacques, suave, sophisticated, and discriminating in his choice of patrons, was working in the same cause as Anita Marie, the harsh-voiced woman who plied her mediumship at the low rate of one dollar a head.
The Shadow had attended the New York seance. He had left at a critical moment. Only Benjamin Castelle had been aware of his presence. Once again, The Shadow had attended a seance here in Philadelphia.
On this occasion, only Joe Cardona had been able to divine his presence. The Shadow had gone from a seance room which teemed with confusion, but not with crime.
Why had he departed? Cardona suspected that The Shadow had gone on an unknown mission. If so, did the clue to it lie in something that had happened there?
Cardona recalled the jargon about Little Flower. Also the mention of the stock, Coronado Copper. These were good points to remember for the future. The name of the woman — the believer who had received the message from Little Flower — was Maude.
Cardona recalled that her last name had been given also, but somehow, it evaded his memory. Then, there had been a few words about a man from India. It was then that The Shadow had laughed again. Had that second interruption been timed for a purpose? Had The Shadow suddenly picked up a thread of importance that had made it necessary for him to travel elsewhere? The thought perplexed Cardona, but he could think of no satisfactory conclusion.
He felt that he had profited by this visit to Philadelphia; but he was also sure that to-night's event was simply an isolated incident that made a single item in a complete scheme of things. Cardona penciled a few notes for future reference. He dropped the paper in his pocket and went to bed. In a few minutes, he was sound asleep.
Of an unimaginative disposition, Cardona was seldom troubled with dreams.
But that night he awoke suddenly to gain the impression that some one was in the hotel room. He listened intently in the darkness, seeking for any semblance of a sound. When none occurred, the detective turned on the light and stared about him. The room was empty.
The door was still locked. Peering from the open window, Cardona noticed a balcony a floor below. There was no one on the balcony. The detective went back to bed and slept soundly until morning. Arising, he remembered what had occurred during the night. Dissatisfied, Cardona looked about the room, to make sure that his previous inspection had been thorough. He decided to make a notation on his sheet of tabulations, especially as he now recalled that the name of the trusting woman had been Maude Garwood.
Reaching in his coat pocket, the detective discovered that his sheet of notes was gone!
What had he done with it?
It seemed incredible that an unknown intruder could have entered here and made away with those notations. What purpose could have been gained by such a procedure?
Every fact that he had written was emblazoned in Cardona's brain. There was nothing in the notes that he could not write again from memory.
Confused, Cardona decided that he must have placed the paper somewhere other than in his pocket. He made a search about the room, and finally reached a point where he was wondering if he had made the notes at all.
Then he thought of the only spot where he had not looked. Beneath his pillow! Perhaps, absent-mindedly, he had thrust them there.
Raising the pillow, Cardona stood stupefied. There were his notes; but they were not alone. The sheet of paper was tucked beneath a string that bound a small, flat box!
Excitedly, Cardona seized his own paper and made sure that it was the one he had prepared last night. He yanked the string from the box and burst open the cardboard package. Within, he discovered a small bunch of violets!
Only one man could have placed that package there. The Shadow!
Now, Cardona realized that the man of the dark had secretly entered this room. The Shadow had placed the box beneath the sleeping detective's pillow.
To make sure that Cardona would discover it, he had taken the detective's notes from the coat pocket, and had put them with the package!
Pulling away the stems of the violets, Cardona found the object that he sought. A small flat metal disk, like the one that had brought him on his errand to Philadelphia. Like the first, this coinlike bit of metal bore a message: