The Ghost Makers

Windows with locked shutters. Out through the hall— but if a man made his get-away there, he must have been a wonder. Nevertheless, Castelle has given me the tip. I figure he must be right."

"About the people in the room," began Weston.

"Commissioner," said Cardona, "there is not one suspect in the lot. Peas in a pod, all except Castelle. He's a skeptic as you say, but you can't hook up any motive for him."

"He speaks of an extra man. That might be a blind—"

"Not at all," said Cardona emphatically. "Castelle is talking straight. If he wasn't trying to help, he would have taken the easy route sided with the rest of them. He's right — absolutely.

"There was another man in that room, and he made his get-away. When we find him, we'll have the murderer!"

Weston picked up the newspaper. He made a study of the names in the list. He started a series of pointed questions regarding the various individuals. Cardona answered each query in methodical fashion. Weston dropped the newspaper and extended his hand.

It was a triumph for Joe Cardona — a glorious finish to this conference which he had approached so uneasily. Weston's conviction was evident.

"There was another man," declared the commissioner, with a note of final emphasis. "A man who wanted to kill Herbert Harvey. But why did he choose such a strange method?"

"That's easy," said Cardona, a slight smile upon his swarthy countenance. "It was a cinch, in the dark. They were all sitting around that circle. When the dagger began to float above, the only one who could have known it was phony was the medium.

"He says he had his eyes shut — always does when he is in a trance. The witnesses agree. But supposing he did catch a flash of that dirk. What could he do?

"If he squawked and hollered for the lights, it might have got him. He was helpless, tied up in the chair."

"Right again!" exclaimed Weston, in a congratulating tone.

"Yes," said Cardona, "the professor sat tight, afraid to squawk. That's the story. The rest were scared stiff — and I include Castelle with the lot. But he had enough sense to use his head."

"CardonaA," said Weston, standing beside the desk, "I aim giving you free rein in this matter. You have done wonders, so far. The case is in your hands."

"Thanks, commissioner," said Cardona, rising. "I'm glad you feel that way about it. I don't want to waste any time, yet I want to feel that I'm not rushed. This trail — if I pick it up — may lead anywhere."

"What do you propose to do? Hold any of these people?"

"Not a one. The professor lives at the Hotel Dalban. He's safe there. We'll give him leeway, but he won't have a chance to skip town. He'll be a good witness, later on. I'm going to let his story ride for the present.

"All the rest are safe enough. Castelle lives at the Merrimac Club. He's a big man, well known and well liked. I can talk with him any time. But right now, I'm going back and work on a clue that will lead me to this man who made the slip."

"Let me make one suggestion," said Weston seriously. "Some time ago, Cardona, you had a great failing. You were inclined to attribute certain unexplainable events to a nonexistent person whom you termed The Shadow. You have corrected that fault. Do not let it undermine your sound opinions in connection with this case."

Cardona's face lengthened for a minute; then the detective laughed in a forced manner.

"I've forgotten that, commissioner," he said. "Let's not talk about it."

"Agreed," smiled Weston, clapping the star detective on the back. "Go to it, my man! I am relying upon you. The case is in your hands. Find the missing murderer."

As Cardona left the commissioner's office, he wore a solemn look upon his face a look that Commissioner Weston would have eyed suspiciously.

For Weston's words had aroused the detective's intent memory. As he headed for the Hotel Dalban, Cardona was wondering deeply.

Some unknown being had figured in this crime. The tabloids were loud in their cry of a ghostly hand — a wild theory that looked good in print, but which Cardona had rejected absolutely. Yet the strange disappearance of the missing personage must either be supernatural or superhuman. Ghosts, Cardona had heard, were supernatural. The Shadow, Cardona knew, was superhuman. Spook or Shadow — which?

Cardona spoke his decision mentally.

"The Shadow!"

Chapter III–Cardona Receives a Present

Evening found Detective Joe Cardona worn and worried. From the time he had left Commissioner Weston's office, his mind had been working in forbidden channels. At the Hotel Dalban, he had searched for hidden clues. He had discovered none.

The Shadow!