The Road Of Crime s-39 Read online

  “Instead of coming to me fairly, you turned crook yourself. Thought you could lie under cover and pick up a lot of easy cash. Didn’t trust me, because I told you that I’d been a crook. Well, the damage is done. I hope you’re satisfied. I warn you, though, that I’m going to fight this game to the end.”

  TURNING, Graham thrust himself past Eunice and reached the door. He swung to deliver a last tirade before departing. His face bore the sordid venom that had characterized it during his career of crime. The words that spat from Graham’s lips were filled with malice.

  “I warned you when you first offered me your friendship,” Graham reminded. “I warned you that you would be sorry - both of you. I softened; but I’m toughened again. I’m warning you now - to look out!

  “You’ll hear from me, Ralph Delkin - and you’ll never forget the revenge that will be mine. You’ve joined in a blackmail plot, and if I don’t come through, you’ll tell the world that I was mixed in crime.”

  “You won’t have to tell the world” - Graham’s tone was bitter - “because I’ll attend to that myself. You’ll learn just how tough I can be. When I strike, you will feel it.”

  As Graham glowered, Eunice Delkin stepped forward. She advanced straight to the young man and looked steadily into his eyes. Graham stared coldly. He expected to see antagonism in Eunice’s glance; instead, he observed nothing more than sorrowful disapproval.

  “Graham,” said Eunice quietly, “you cannot mean these things that you have said. You know that there is no revenge in your heart. You know that father and I are your friends.”

  Graham Wellerton could not face this mild criticism. His tight fists loosened, his heart seemed to sink. Bitterness began to fade. Graham knew that the girl was right. Yet the last vestiges of resentment came in a final surge, and with that emotion, Graham Wellerton turned on his heel and stalked out into the night.

  The tense scene was at an end. Graham Wellerton had capitulated, although he had managed not to show it. Rebuked at heart, he turned his footsteps homeward, fighting hard to balance his regard for Eunice with his resentment toward Ralph Delkin. In that effort, Graham was failing. Right feeling was triumphing over malice, despite the ordeal which Graham had undergone.

  RALPH DELKIN, standing in his living room, was pale and troubled when Eunice approached her father; the man spoke in a tone of worriment.

  “Graham Wellerton intends to do us harm,” asserted Delkin. “I am worried, Eunice - worried -“

  “There is nothing to worry about, father,” interposed the girl quietly. “Graham will come to his senses. Reason will tell him that you are his real friend - that you would not betray him.”

  “I must have advice,” declared Delkin. “If I should call Harwin Dowser now

  -“

  “Never!” exclaimed Eunice in alarm.

  “Dowser is Graham’s attorney,” admitted Delkin. “Nevertheless, I know him well. His services can be mine for the asking.”

  “It is not that, father,” decided Eunice firmly. “Remember our promise to Graham; that we would tell no one of his past. Graham has accused you of betraying him - surely, you would not do so now, even though you might speak in confidence to a lawyer.”

  Ralph Delkin nodded thoughtfully. He slumped into a chair. His gaze seemed far away. Eunice wondered what was passing in her father’s mind.

  “Promise me,” said the girl, “that you will say nothing unless Graham makes some attempt to follow his foolish threat. Will you promise, father?”

  Delkin gave a slow nod. He was staring toward the door; Eunice was watching him. Neither knew that other eyes were upon them; that an intruder was spying through the half-opened window. This stormy scene with Graham Wellerton had been observed by an outsider who had more than a passing interest in the affair!

  When Eunice left her father alone, Ralph Delkin still seemed in a dazed state. The girl knew that he was pondering over the vague threat which Graham Wellerton had made. She felt sure, however, that all would be well.

  There was one, however, in Southwark, who understood that some great calamity was threatening. Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, was that man. At midnight, Harry stopped in the telegraph office to send a telegram to Rutledge Mann, in New York.

  There was nothing in the telegram to indicate it as other than an ordinary message pertaining to some minor business. Actually, however, the wording of the wire had a special significance. That telegram was an emergency message to The Shadow - a prompt report to tell the master of darkness that grim events were in the making.

  Harry Vincent knew that The Shadow would respond. Whatever might occur in Southwark, The Shadow’s might would be here to play a vital part!

  CHAPTER XX

  THE ANSWER

  THE next day was Saturday. Graham Wellerton attended to the affairs of the short business day. As evening approached, he dropped in to see Harwin Dowser.

  Graham had no intention of telling the old lawyer what had happened - at least not for the present. He knew, however, that he might have to make use of legal advice at any time. He wanted to be sure that Dowser would be in town.

  In response to Graham’s casual questioning, Dowser stated that he intended to spend the week-end at his home. Dowser lived in a large house about two miles out of Southwark, hence he would be accessible should Graham need him.

  “What is the trouble, Wellerton?” quizzed the lawyer. “You are not worried about business affairs?”

  “Nothing special,” responded Graham. “I have various matters to consider and I intend to stay at home tomorrow on that account. It just occurred to me that I might find some questions that would require your answer.”

  Harwin Dowser eyed the young man shrewdly. The old lawyer, experienced in his study of human nature, could sense that his client was troubled. Dowser shook his head knowingly after Graham had departed.

  Back in his old house, Graham dined alone and dismissed the servant for the evening. He quietly awaited the arrival of Carma, for he felt sure that the woman would come to learn the answer to her demands. Thinking of Carma brought up the subject of Ralph Delkin.

  Graham lighted a cigarette and went out on the front porch to smoke. He was convinced, beyond all doubt, that Delkin had sent for Carma. He felt a strong resentment toward the man, but as he considered the matter, Graham could not regain the indignation of the previous evening.

  After all, Graham had been a crook. Why should he criticize Delkin for turning crooked? The manufacturer was desperate. He had discovered a perfect opportunity to bleed a man who had much wealth.

  What hurt Graham was the fact that he would gladly have offered funds to Delkin. Carma was the reason why Graham hated this whole turn of events. He was determined to balk the woman’s game no matter what the penalty might be.

  The night was cloudy. A thrumming announced that an airplane was passing overhead. The coupled circumstances made Graham remember that night when he had robbed his uncle’s safe in an effort to aid Ralph Delkin. What strange consequences had come from that! In one short month, Graham’s fortunes had risen and fallen. Tonight, another crisis was at hand.

  Graham went back into the house. He sat at a desk and began to write with pen and ink. After several attempts at careful wording, which involved the destruction of unfinished effort, Graham completed his task.

  AN hour had passed. There was a ring at the door. Graham went to answer it. He found Carma waiting there. The young man stared coldly, then invited the woman to enter.

  Once again, Graham’s eyes did not notice the space beyond the porch. Someone was there - but even had Graham stared coldly, he could not have detected the phantom figure which lingered. That weird shape was almost part of the night itself!

  Graham conducted Carma into the living room. They were out of sight of the front door, hence neither saw that barrier open softly. No eyes observed the tall being clad in black that moved with spectral tread as it came to the door of the room itself.

  The Sh
adow had arrived in Southwark. Lost in the gloom of Graham Wellerton’s dimly lighted hallway, this master who battled crime was a silent observer of the interview which was now to take place!

  “Well, big boy,” began Carma, “here I am. What have you got to say?”

  “Regarding the money that you want?”

  “You guessed it.”

  “I have made my decision,” declared Graham. “I intend to give you all my money.”

  “What!” exclaimed Carma. “The whole amount?”

  “Exactly,” returned Graham, “but not at present. That is the only qualification.”

  “So that’s it, eh?” jeered Carma. “Trying to stall me?”

  “Not at all,” said Graham. “Here is the paper which I have prepared. It is my will.”

  “Your will?”

  “Yes. A bequeathment - to you - of all the money which I may have when I die.”

  “Where do you get that stuff!” sneered Carma. “When you die! How does that help me?”

  “I gained the money through my uncle’s death,” declared Graham. “You, in turn, will gain it through mine. My uncle accumulated his wealth through evil practices. He left it to me because he felt that I would use it to further crime.

  “Instead, I have been using the cash for good. In respect of my uncle’s feelings - no matter how unfair they may have been - I shall cease my philanthropies. I intend to live upon the interest, keeping the principal.

  “Should I survive you, I shall be free to use the money as I wish. Should you survive me, the entire capital will be yours. That is a fair arrangement - a sporting chance for both of us.”

  “Yeah?” questioned Carma, in a malicious tone. “Well, it doesn’t suit me, big boy. How do you like that? Come across on a fifty-fifty basis, or I squeal.”

  “Good,” decided Graham. “If you do that, I shall destroy this will and leave all my money to charity.”

  “You will go to prison.”

  “For twenty years at the most. Perhaps less. I have already arranged to make restitution of funds that I have stolen. I do not relish a term in the penitentiary, but when I am free, I shall still have the bulk of my uncle’s millions.

  “Then, if you survive me, you will gain nothing. Even your claim for a widow’s share will be nullified - in all probability. You have your choice - all when I die or nothing.”

  “And how does that help me now?”

  “I must mention that, Carma. So long as you live, I shall provide you with a comfortable income, provided that you remain away from Southwark and keep silent. If you fail in either of these terms, I shall cut off the money that I am giving you; and I shall be willing to take the consequences.”

  “You think I won’t squeal?” scoffed Carma.

  “I think you will,” rejoined Graham calmly. “Nevertheless, I am willing to face the music.”

  “All right, big boy,” threatened Carma. “Get ready for a lot of trouble.”

  “Better think it over, Carma,” suggested Graham. “I shall have this will witnessed tonight. I am calling my lawyer, Harwin Dowser, to tell him that I have prepared the document. On Monday, I shall deliver it to him, unless I should happen to see him before then.

  “Dowser does not know that I am married. When he learns that fact, he will not be surprised to learn that I have left my estate to my wife. This will does not incriminate me in any way. So there is your opportunity, Carma. Wait - in hopes of gaining all, and live while you wait; or squeal and get nothing.”

  “I’ll think it over,” snarled Carma, rising. “You’ll hear from me soon enough. Go ahead - get the will witnessed. I’m in no hurry, now that I’ve had your answer.”

  THE woman arose. She walked to the door. Graham did not accompany her. Carma went directly past the spot where The Shadow was standing. She did not see the tall being in black, nor did Graham.

  Still in the living room, Graham heard the door slam. He did not hear it reopen softly as The Shadow, too, departed.

  Graham went to the telephone to call some friends in Southwark. His purpose was to arrange an appointment for the witnessing of the will. Graham was resigned to whatever might occur. He would wait here until he heard from Carma.

  Meanwhile, Carma was going back to the Southwark House. Arrived at the hotel, the woman entered a phone booth in the drug store which adjoined it. As she telephoned, Carma did not notice the tall, silently moving individual who took the next booth. She did not realize that every word she said could be heard.

  One call completed, Carma hung up the receiver and waited a few minutes. Then she stepped from the booth and consulted the telephone directory. Eyes were watching as Carma found the name she wanted - that of Ralph Delkin. The number was Southwark 68.

  Returning to the booth, Carma called six eight. A sneering curl showed on the woman’s ruddy lips as a voice answered at the other end. In smooth, easy tones, Carma began to speak. As she talked, The Shadow listened!

  Carma, tonight, had received her answer. She knew that Graham Wellerton would persist in his intention. Now, Carma was plotting to turn the answer into a fortune greater than the one she had demanded!

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE PLOT BREAKS

  GRAHAM WELLERTON spent a quiet Sunday in his home. The cloudy day seemed to hold the gloom of an approaching storm. Southwark was a dreary town on such a day as this. Graham saw no reason to venture forth.

  Evening came. Graham, seated in his living room, heard a ring at the door. He decided that Carma must be here. He went to the door and opened it. He was surprised to find Sheriff Ellis Taussig.

  “Hello, sheriff,” greeted Graham. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing special,” responded Taussig. “I just came in from Dowser’s. He thought maybe you would ride out and see him.”

  “Why didn’t he phone me?” asked Graham.

  “The line’s out of order,” returned Taussig. “Dowser may be going out of town early tomorrow. He wants to see you, because he says you have some paper to give him.”

  “I have,” said Graham. “But I am also expecting a visitor.”

  “Leave a note on the door,” suggested Taussig. “We can get back here in a little while. An hour, say.”

  His keenness aroused, Graham suspected some special purpose in the sheriff’s visit. Taussig was tactful. Graham half believed that if he refused to accompany the man, trouble might result. If anything had started, it would be best to learn about it now. Graham penned a brief note and stuck it to the door. He pocketed his witnessed will and went out to the sheriff’s car.

  Taussig said but little during the ride to Dowser’s. They swung in through a gate, up a long lane among thick trees and stopped at the lawyer’s home. The sheriff kept very close to his companion as the pair entered the house.

  GRAHAM’S first surprise came when he entered Dowser’s living room. Standing with the old lawyer was Ralph Delkin.

  What was the manufacturer doing here? Graham wondered. There was tenseness during the handshakes. As the men sat down, Graham drew his will from his pocket and passed it to Harwin Dowser. The lawyer glanced at the document, then read it carefully. He made no comment regarding its contents.

  “I shall place this in my safe, Wellerton,” was Dowser’s only remark.

  Graham unconsciously glanced to a door across the room. That door, he knew, led to the lawyer’s study. Did Dowser mean the safe in there - or the safe in his own office? It did not matter; but there was something else that did.

  Graham noted that the door was very slightly ajar. Through the crevice, he caught a momentary gleam that disappeared the moment he observed it. He sensed that eyes had been watching him. He shuddered as a long forgotten thought came to his mind.

  The Shadow!

  Once Graham Wellerton had felt that presence of that mysterious being. Did he sense it now? The thought was incredible, yet it persisted. With his criminal past disturbing his mind, Graham was ill at ease. Carma in league with Ralph Delkin - that was a sit
uation bad enough. If The Shadow had suddenly entered the scene, Graham could see naught but doom.

  The Shadow warred with criminals. Graham, despite the reform which he had chosen, could not forget that he had been a crook. He feared The Shadow, and his only solace was the effort which he made to laugh off what might be nothing more than pure imagination.

  “I can stay only one hour,” remarked Graham cordially. “I may have callers at home - I really should be back there.”

  “One hour will be long enough.”

  Graham turned in surprise. It was Ralph Delkin who had spoken. The manufacturer’s face had become determined. Graham stared, then looked at Taussig and Dowser. Both seemed stern and solemn. Graham knew that trouble was due to break.

  “What is the matter, Delkin?” challenged Graham. “It appears that you have some purpose in being here tonight.”

  “I have,” declared Delkin, rising. “You threatened me two nights ago. You told me that trouble would come upon me. It has arrived and I demand the answer.”

  “Concerning what?”

  “The disappearance of my daughter!”

  Graham was on his feet, staring at Delkin in consternation. Turning to Dowser and Taussig, Graham showed the amazement that he felt.

  “Eunice Delkin!” he exclaimed. “Has something happened to her? To Eunice?”

  “She disappeared last night,” asserted Dowser calmly. “It looks like abduction. Delkin came to me and accused you. I told him to remain here. That is why I asked the sheriff to bring you here.”

  “This is horrible!” exclaimed Graham. “I know nothing about it! You may rely upon me to use every effort to aid in finding Eunice!”

  “You threatened me,” denounced Ralph Delkin coldly. “That is why I have told the truth about you. Dowser knows all; so does Taussig. You are a crook - the kind of a man who would stoop to kidnaping.”

  “You lie!” retorted Graham.

  “One moment.” Harwin Dowser spoke gravely as he arose from his chair. “I have represented you, Wellerton, purely as the administrator of your uncle’s estate. I have no sympathy for you now that I have learned that you are a crook by nature. You are trapped, young man. You cannot escape us.”