Death in the Stars s-197 Read online

  The boat scraped against a ledge that served it as a pier. Men scrambled from their craft and turned on flashlights. The beams showed a natural cave, with a split in the rock ahead, evidently the entrance to the lair, for the crevice formed a passage a few feet above water level.

  They were turning the lights on the boat in order to haul out crippled members of the party. The Shadow saw the scowling face of Rufus, heard him address another man as "Horace." Those two were uninjured, as was a third man; but the three that they brought from the curious boat showed the effects of bullets.

  Thus, The Shadow counted six who had returned. He calculated that four had fallen in the battle wherein he had sided with the deputies, and had been left dead on the shore at Grendale's, along with Barcla.

  While the wounded men were being helped from the steel lake monster, The Shadow gained a good view of the craft. Its motor was still running, with a sighing hiss.

  The Shadow noted low lumps, like ventilators, in front of the cockpit and recognized their purpose.

  They were intakes, sucking in air to a hidden device that separated the component elements. Similarly, there were valves along the water line near the bow of the boat, that took in water. Near the stern, bubbles were drifting from outlets, accounting for the foamy wake that The Shadow had seen on other nights.

  The Shadow recalled a story of a crazed inventor, now dead, who claimed that he had created a hydro-vapor motor which combined oxygen from the air with water, to form an explosive chemical combination, H2O2. Such an invention had been doubted on the grounds that the apparatus would have been highly improbable.

  Evidently it worked, for this ship fitted with the story. The lake monster's cigar-shaped hull housed a floating laboratory which could combine air and water into a vaporized fuel. However complicated the mechanism, once working, it could continue almost indefinitely, and the motor had added qualities unstated by its inventor: those of speed and silence.

  Criminals had acquired it, diverting the device to their own purpose. Confident that the mystery ship would never be recognized as a vessel, they had kept their game concealed until The Shadow arrived at Lake Calada. Even yet, they supposed themselves safe, here in their subterranean lair.

  MOVING behind the men with the lights, The Shadow was working toward the crevice in the rocks. His course was slow, for he was dripping wet and had to avoid sloshing sounds. He wanted to enter the lair itself before the crooks arrived.

  Deep in the split, The Shadow found his path barred by a formidable door of metal, that had a large keyhole. Bullets could settle that lock, but it might take a gunfull of them; and the sounds would be heard on the other side. It would be better, The Shadow decided, to follow Rufus and the others through.

  An automatic drawn from its waterproof holster, The Shadow started to retrace his steps. As he neared the watery vault where the lake monster was berthed, he found that he was too late. Rufus and the others had come along the landing rock, flashing their lights ahead of them.

  Supporting one of the wounded pals, Rufus was displaying a large key. That, plus the fact that Rufus hadn't come ahead alone to get help for the wounded, indicated that all the crooks had gone on the night's expedition.

  Had The Shadow blasted the door with bullets, he would have brought no opposition from within. But that course had become too dangerous, with Rufus and the rest on their way here. The only thing to do was settle the crooks first.

  The Shadow gave them chance for life.

  His laugh reverberated suddenly through the vaulted chamber, unearthly in its stridence. It seemed a voice of mockery from a tomb, in a setting well suited for it.

  Walls, dome, even the water's surface caught the taunt and threw it back. It might have been a laugh from the sleek lake monster, for the echoes made it impossible to locate.

  The Shadow expected consternation from the crooks. They wouldn't guess that he had gone past them at the boat. By rights, they should have picked the channel under the arch as the place of the laugh's origin, and turned in that direction. Once scattered, looking for battle from the rear, they would be harmless.

  But the thugs saw The Shadow.

  Rufus, trying to twist for cover, was grabbed by his wounded pal, who wanted the light extinguished. In their struggle, they staggered toward the cleft where The Shadow stood. The beam turned toward the black-cloaked fighter; Horace gave the shout that told the others where real danger lay.

  Even the wounded men showed agility, as the whole crew dived for sheltering rocks, bringing out their guns. They were shooting with frantic determination, as The Shadow wheeled for shelter of his own.

  Rufus was quick enough to reach the very edge of the cleft. He yelled for the rest to help him trap The Shadow.

  Back by the metal door, The Shadow was jabbing shots that held the crooks where they were. His fire was spasmodic. He knew that he faced a bullet shortage, if this fray kept up. Lights were gone: a drive out toward the enemy marksmen would be dangerous, except as a last resort.

  They were copying The Shadow's measure, making their shots occasional, confident that their cloaked foe would drop if he tried to squeeze out through the cleft. But their fire would come closer the moment that The Shadow ceased to return it. For that reason, he could not spare time to blast the stout lock of the door behind him.

  The Shadow was trapped; but the crooks did not guess why he had allowed himself to be.

  Half a dozen boats had reached the stone-jutted channel that fronted Indian Rock. The occupants of those boats could hear the hollow blasts of gunfire. They could locate it, too, coming from within the mighty rock itself.

  Fitful reflections of light came from the archway at the water line.

  Men were working their boats toward that inlet, using searchlights to study the entrance. Their trouble was how to get through; none of their boats were low enough.

  AMONG the arriving craft was Scorpio's speedboat. Lois had seen it at the dock and had used it to join the chase, with Denwood as a passenger.

  Other boats had crowded through the stony channel toward the rock; by that delay, Lois and Denwood were able to aid The Shadow. They saw the thing upon which he depended.

  Reflected gun spurts were no longer visible at the water-line arch because of the searchlights. But Lois and Denwood saw the same tokens higher up, from a crack that no one else noticed. They shouted to the boats ahead; when an obliging searchlight swung toward them, Lois pointed upward.

  During the next five minutes, men were busy scaling to the fissure that the girl indicated. All the while, the muffled reports of guns came at paced intervals. The crooks were keeping up their policy of wearing down The Shadow; he was letting them continue, confident that it would produce their own disaster.

  The catastrophe came. The thugs suddenly heard shots from a new direction. Turning, they saw guns spurt from a slit in the front dome of the vault. Men had spotted their flashing guns and were giving them a barrage.

  Danger of exhausted ammunition applied to the crooks. Bullets were nicking the rocks about them. They had only one course: to rush The Shadow.

  They came, en masse, the wounded with the rest. Then all were staggering out again, met by fire that was quicker than their own. They were dropping guns; some were stumbling into the water, as they tried desperately to reach their only refuge, the berthed ship.

  Too late. Splashes near the arch told that men had dropped through from the crevasse above. Flashlights began to gleam, as the newcomers found the ledge that formed a shore. The crooks, already crippled, hadn't a chance against that insurge. The Shadow's expected supporters had arrived.

  Reaching the metal door, The Shadow used his remaining bullets to ruin the lock. They weren't quite enough; he hammered steadily with the butt of an automatic to complete the work. Haste was no longer needed; still, The Shadow always counted minutes. He had spent at least a dozen, from the time that he had arrived on board the lake monster.

  Through the door, The Shadow fol
lowed passages with his flashlight. He encountered other barriers, set in narrow places, but they were comparatively flimsy. Reaching a squarish room, The Shadow saw a flight of rough-hewn steps. He called below.

  A shout answered him; he recognized the voice as Harry's. Another voice joined in; The Shadow could hear the rattle of doors as he dashed down the steps.

  Then the clatter increased; a third voice added its bellow. It was louder than the others, for it came from the nearest cell; there, The Shadow's light showed Niles Rundon.

  Smashing the locked gate with his heavy automatic, The Shadow went on to the next. He finished it in quick time, and slashed at the third. Rundon was stumbling for the steps, followed by Harry and finally Carradon, when The Shadow turned about.

  From above the steps, he saw the wavering flicker of a flashlight. Shouting to the rescued men to watch out for an attack, The Shadow sped to overtake them. He heard yells as he reached the top of the steps.

  His flashlight showed the last of the crooks who had opposed him out by the boat.

  It was Rufus. Though wounded, the fellow had avoided bullets well. He had dragged himself through the passages; in the squarish room, he was tugging at a chain set in the wall, snarling that he would bring death to all.

  Niles Rundon was grappling with him, but his clutch on Rufus' hand only tightened the fellow's clench.

  Though weak from their imprisonment, Harry and Carradon managed to add weight in Rundon's behalf.

  Rufus sagged, as Rundon hauled him downward. But the chain was tugged, and it produced an instantaneous result. From somewhere in the depths came a muffled echoing explosion.

  The walls of the room seemed to rock while The Shadow was scattering the other men, rolling them toward the outer passage. Titanic crackles told of ledges breaking throughout the stratified granite.

  There were clatters, as stony chunks gave way, but all came from far below. Finally, reverberations ended, leaving the squarish room intact.

  As the rescued men were starting out through the passage, The Shadow took a look into the cell room below. It was intact, too, except at its deepest end. There, masses of stone had sagged. Evidently the explosive charge had been buried well beyond that point. Rufus had calculated upon a complete destruction of the underground lair; but the charge had not been sufficient. The damage was comparatively small.

  Not only were the rescued men delivered by The Shadow; he, too, was safe. Only one man expired with the blast; Rufus, himself.

  Niles Rundon had given the crook's head a bash against a rock. Already seriously wounded, Rufus could not stay the blow, nor survive it. He was dead when The Shadow viewed him under the flashlight. The cloaked fighter's laugh was solemn, mirthless, much like a knell.

  When The Shadow reached the outside passage, he found the rescued men stumbling toward persons that they recognized as friends. Rundon lost his footing, skidded from the ledge and went shoulder deep into the water before hands caught him. Harry was grabbed before he made a similar stumble.

  The two were telling their story, as was Carradon. The Shadow edged into a darkened niche, as men came through to search the underground passages and hunt for stolen goods. Others took Harry, Carradon and Rundon out to the boats.

  Some were examining the strange lake monster, when The Shadow passed them in the background.

  Instead of using ropes that hung from the higher crevice, The Shadow made his exit by a silent swim beneath the arch.

  He was climbing, unseen, among the stony pilings, when he heard excited talk ahead.

  A boat had just arrived from the Community Center, bringing news of Professor Scorpio. The arch-faker had made a bold escape. He had shown up at the landing field wearing oversized clothes and carrying a shotgun that he had stolen from some cabin.

  At the twin points of his double-barreled weapon, Scorpio had made the new pilot take him in the plane, promising the fellow death like Drury had received, if he refused to aid the getaway. When last seen, the plane's lights had been twinkling beyond the mountain pass, carrying Scorpio off to safety.

  Some of the persons who listened that news also thought that they heard an eerie sound, much like a whispery laugh, coming from the darkness near the base of Indian Rock.

  The Shadow was not displeased because of Scorpio's escape; quite the contrary. The departure of the professor kept the case wide open, promising a final solution of every question that crime had produced.

  CHAPTER XVI. THE MAN WHO BELIEVED.

  DURING the next few days, enough mysteries were solved to satisfy most members of the Calada colony. The whole case was sensational from start to finish: Professor Scorpio stood branded as a crook as well as a rogue. His folly had been his own act of terminating a profitable racket, by turning to crime for bigger stakes.

  Search of the Castle brought many discoveries; among them secret filing cases, hidden in walls, that contained evidence of Scorpio's long-played game. He had owned much land around Lake Calada, mostly by proxy. He sold property to the right people; namely, those who would fall for his spook racket.

  Part of his game had been the bribery of servants. Through them, he had picked up large amounts of valuable information, which he served back to his clients in the form of astrological readings, slate messages, and the utterances of materialized spirits.

  Only a few such servants had been used for crime, later, and permitted to join the band of strong-arm crooks who had been quartered under Indian Rock.

  The rest were still trusted by their employers; when the names of such servants were found in Scorpio's files, the culprits broke down and confessed.

  They told how they had been bribed, often with trifling amounts. Scorpio was clever that way; once under his thumb, he scared his tools and made them stay with the game.

  Curiously, most of them actually believed that the professor had some occult power, for he had told them things about themselves that amazed them.

  It hadn't struck them that so many were in the racket; that Scorpio had a few servants spying on the rest.

  A very tricky gentleman, Professor Scorpio, and his ace in the hole was Edward Barcla.

  All evidence showed that Barcla, alone, had impersonated spirits. In that way, Scorpio had kept many of his spies puzzled as to the workings of the ghost business. His Hindus, too, had evidently helped him in some important details that his other spies knew little about.

  The thing that amazed the confessing servants most was the lake monster. They had actually believed that the thing was some weird creature.

  Barcla was dead: so were all the crooks who had used the mystery boat. Therefore, the Hindu servants supplied the only close links to Scorpio. But they swore that they had been connected with the ghost racket only; not with robbery and murder. They stuck to that story so stolidly, that everyone believed them.

  As The Shadow had foreseen, the case remained open.

  Not a trace of any stolen goods could be discovered. The Castle was practically torn apart; every cranny in the lair beneath Indian Rock was thoroughly searched, without result.

  Gillespie still lacked his bonds, Jamison his paintings. The Albion statuettes were untraced; Paula Lodi's jewels were still glittering, but where, no one knew.

  Added to that, Hugo Grendale had lost his utility stocks, on the very night when criminals had met their watery Waterloo in combat with The Shadow.

  Professor Scorpio, too, was missing. He had made the plane pilot land him on an obscure field, where Scorpio had taken an old automobile from a disused hangar. The professor had fixed everything for a personal getaway, when required.

  It was conceded that he must have shipped stolen goods away beforehand, and carried along the pelf from Grendale's when he made his own departure.

  ALL this was the subject of a late afternoon discussion in Denwood's lodge. Esteemed by everyone in the colony, Denwood had been asked to act as chairman at a very important meeting.

  Present were the victims of the recent robberies: Gille
spie, Jamison, Albion, and Grendale. Paula Lodi was absent, but she was represented by her husband, Howard Carradon. He also belonged with another group: the three who had been rescued by The Shadow.

  Harry Vincent and Niles Rundon were giving the same old testimony regarding their stay in the underground cell room. Carradon repeated it, too. They had seen the inside of crime, they all agreed, but so little of it that they could furnish no facts leading to the discovery of the stolen goods.

  Talk turned to The Shadow. People wanted to know who he was, how he had accomplished so much.

  No one seemed able to answer, not even Lamont Cranston, who had been invited to the meeting at Denwood's request.

  All during the meeting, Cranston had been in the background, his face impassive, except when the buzz of the arriving taxi plane above the lake had reminded him of his own landing at Calada. Then, Cranston's lips had faintly smiled.

  The meeting had thinned away to a total disappointment, when Grendale smacked the desk angrily.

  "Here we are," he boomed, "the wealthiest men on the lake, all victims of Professor Scorpio. I'd pay anything to bring that rogue to justice! No one in this colony can put up more cash than I can, if we offer a reward."

  The others looked annoyed by Grendale's boast. They looked to Denwood, who softened matters with a smile. Then, turning to Grendale, Denwood asked:

  "Have you forgotten Percy Claremont?"

  Mere mention of the name evoked Grendale's wrath.

  "That doddering fool!" he stormed. "Old Claremont may be worth millions, but he didn't make his money with his brains. Why, he was right at the top on Scorpio's sucker list!"

  The Shadow remembered Claremont's name. Scorpio's files had contained plenty of Claremont data, as Grendale stated. Though extremely wealthy, Claremont lived frugally when he came to Lake Calada; he owned a small bungalow that looked dwarfish on the huge lake property that it occupied.