The Shadow's Justice s-28

by Maxwell Grant

  “Certainly,” responded Harry. “This rocky hill was a better bet. They sure gave it a trial after they abandoned the pit in the clearing.”

  “Looks like they may have been getting results,” observed Carter. “See the sparkle on the wall over there? It’s mineral ore, all right—”

  “Nothing more than a promise,” interposed Harry, with a shake of his head. “They were carving right into the center of the hill, looking for a worth-while strike. They probably failed to get the results they wanted. Otherwise they wouldn’t have abandoned this shaft.”

  “Say”—Carter Boswick’s tone was puzzled—“where does this shaft begin? There wasn’t any sign of it on the bill.”

  “We can find that out later,” laughed Harry. “But it isn’t any mystery to me, Carter. The excavators—or some who came here later—must have blocked the entrance, probably with a big lot of rocks and plenty of turf.”

  “Why?”

  “One reason might be to keep the shaft for themselves. But I hardly think that is it. They still had the claim, I suppose. No, Carter, I can see a better reason—particularly for this shaft, with the natural entrance through which we have come.”

  “What is it?”

  “Some one—in all probability your father—may have obtained possession of this old mine, and realized its possibilities as a hiding place for one who might choose to use it as such.”

  “You’ve hit it, Harry! With the entrance of the shaft blocked, no one could discover it unless they had some clew to this narrow side passage which we have just used. Remember how I said I’d search every foot of land before I’d give up? We’d have found this place eventually.”

  “I think we would. But now that we’re in the main alley, it would be a good idea to go on.”

  Carter Boswick chuckled. He was positive that the end of the quest was within immediate reach. This sloping shaft could not be of any great length. He was more eager than Harry. Without further delay, he pushed into the shaft and urged his companion on.

  THE downward course was the natural way to go. Harry and Carter trudged along the narrow-gauge track, the beam of the flashlight showing the way ahead. They had not traveled more than fifty feet before the presence of a blocking wall became detectable ahead. Either the shaft ended there or turned, Harry remarked.

  As the men approached more closely, they saw that the wall marked the division of the shaft into two separate corridors: one to the left, the other to the right. The tracks ended at that point.

  “Hold up a minute, Carter,” said Harry. “We’ve got to pick our way, from here on. Evidently these fellows tried to turn, hoping to strike a good supply of ore. When, their first effort failed, they went the other way.”

  They were at the end of the main shaft. The side corridors were like the bar on a letter T. Both ways were practically level; there appeared no choice.

  Harry, in his deliberation, first turned the flash back up the main shaft. Its rays faded amid the long corridor. Then he illuminated the path to the left, to reveal a blocking wall about thirty feet distant.

  Harry noted what appeared to be an opening in the floor of the side passage, at the barring wall.

  “Try the other direction,” suggested Carter.

  Harry responded.

  The same situation revealed itself. Thirty feet of passage; then a wall with glittering streaks. Beneath it, the edge of a gaping hole.

  “When the turns didn’t work, they must have excavated straight down,” remarked Harry. “This mine must have been a heartbreaker. No wonder the others called it quits.”’

  “Come on,” urged Carter eagerly.

  “We’re not calling quits. I’ll bet there’s something in this place besides galena or whatever that glittering stuff is. Strike out to the left, Harry.”

  They made their way along the passage which Carter had indicated. Here, the floor was rough, in contrast to the finished surface along which the track had been laid.

  The investigators stopped when they came to the hole. Harry’s conjecture proved correct. It was a vertical shaft, round and jagged, some thirty feet in depth.

  “Nothing down there,” observed Harry, as he turned the flashlight toward the bottom.

  “Doesn’t look that way,” responded Carter, peering over the edge. “Let’s try the other corridor. We can come back here later.”

  They turned and made their way to the dividing point. Both were tense. Harry began to feel an impending sense of danger within these depths. There was a sinister, spectral atmosphere in this forgotten mine. Carter Boswick sensed it, also.

  “Creepy, isn’t it?” he questioned, with a slight laugh.

  “Come on,” returned Harry. “We’ve got to take a look down this other corridor. It may be the finish.”

  “The finish?” repeated Carter solemnly. “That doesn’t sound so good, Harry. Let’s say it may be the beginning. If—”

  He did not end the sentence. At that precise moment, the unexpected occurred. The investigators were almost at the end of the right passage—the hole which they were seeking was no more than a dozen feet away.

  But as Carter Boswick spoke, there was a click from the hole beyond. The brilliant rays of an electric lantern filled the corridor, outshining Harry’s light.

  Caught in this sudden illumination, Harry and Carter stopped flat-footed, as a voice called out an order. The echoes of its threatening tone were hollow within that rocky vault.

  “Stop where you are!” came the cry. “One step more, and you die! I’ve got you covered. Up with your hands!”

  CARTER and Harry obeyed instinctively. The flashlight fell from Harry’s grasp. Caught totally unaware, with their automatics in their pockets, instead of in their hands, both men were at the mercy of the one who had challenged them.

  A nervous, frenzied laugh sounded from the hole ahead. Then, from the pit, emerged the head and shoulders of a man, a revolver sparkling in the light as it pointed forward from the extended hand that held it.

  Into the illumination came the challenger; a white-faced individual who half raised himself from the hole. The man’s revolver wavered, as though in an inexperienced hand; yet its muzzle formed a constant covering that was too dangerous to resist.

  Harry Vincent clenched his upraised fists. He was angry to realize that he had led Carter Boswick into such a trap as this. He threw a sidelong glance at his companion. He was amazed to note that Carter’s face was twitching with a sudden fury.

  The reason came an instant later. Carter Boswick had recognized the man whose hand had balked them. His voice, low and harsh, poured forth its imprecations.

  “Drew Westling!” Carter was contemptuous as he pronounced his cousin’s name. “Drew Westling! You double-crosser! I knew you were in this dirty game!”

  CHAPTER XXI.

  THE ENEMY REVEALED.

  DREW WESTLING’S hand trembled as Carter Boswick spoke. The heir’s cousin was resting on the brink of the pit from which he had come, blinking nervously at the men whom he had balked. His face was pale at the edge of the light; his eyes seemed bewildered.

  “Go ahead!” growled Carter. “Shoot us, you snake! That’s what you’re here for!”

  For the first time, Drew Westling seemed to recognize the voice that he heard. He still held the gun in his shaking hand but when he spoke, his tone was no longer one of menace.

  “Carter!” he exclaimed. “Carter! It can’t be you!”

  Carter Boswick’s gruff laugh and words of growled animosity left no doubt as to his identity. Drew Westling rubbed his free hand across a perspiring forehead.

  “Carter!” Drew’s voice was nervous. “Carter! I—I thought—you had gone!”

  With that, the challenger sank exhausted at the edge of the pit. The revolver clattered from his hand. Carter Boswick, with an exultant cry of triumph, began to leap forward. Harry Vincent gripped him by the arm.

  “Easy, old man!” Harry exclaimed. “Hold back! He’s all right. Can’t you see he
’s not your enemy? He’s ready to drop from sheer exhaustion!”

  Harry’s words were restraining. Their truth was evident. Drew Wresting had stretched on the rough floor of the corridor. His breath was coming in long gasps. Carter Boswick’s attitude changed instantly.

  “Drew!” he exclaimed, in a kindly tone. “What’s the matter, old man? Tell me—how did you get here?”

  Carter was at his cousin’s side, he was clasping the hand that Drew weakly proffered. Harry Vincent arrived beside the pair. Both he and Carter could see that Westling’s face was deathly pale. They propped the frail young man against the side of the corridor. Drew Westling smiled weakly.

  “Guess it’s all”—he paused to draw a breath—“it’s all—been—too much of a strain for me. Thinking—you had gone. Trying to do it—all alone—”

  “Tell us about it,” suggested Carter.

  Drew pointed to the pit. Harry turned his own flashlight downward. The glow revealed a large flat slab at the bottom of a five-foot pit.

  THE edges of the slab had been mortared to the rock. Tools lay upon it. Drew Westling had been working to pry the slab loose.

  “It’s yours, Carter!” gasped Drew. “Whatever is under there belongs to you. I came here—not to get it for myself—I came to get it—for you.”

  “I though you were with the gang,” said Carter, in a tone of remorse. “Steady, Drew. There’s a lot I’ve got to know. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “I’ve got to explain, Carter,” declared Drew, becoming suddenly calm. “—Maybe I should have told you before; but I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. I came here to help you. Carter, because I knew there was danger.”’

  “Go on.”

  “You found the note, didn’t you?”

  “You mean the directions—latitude and longitude? Yes, I found it—but it was stolen. What do you know about it?”

  “Stolen?”

  “Yes. Right after I found it. I went to the library when Farland Tracy left the house, my first night home. I thought maybe you had taken it, Drew.”

  The pale young man shook his head. He moistened his lips and stared squarely into Carter’s eyes.

  “Let me tell you the beginning,” he said. “I’ll be brief. There’s work to do. But we had better understand.”

  Carter nodded.

  “Lode Houston did not trust me,” declared Drew Westling. “I knew it for a long while. He did not approve of my way of living. Sometimes he became so enraged at me that I wondered if he might be losing his mind.

  “He talked about his estate—that it would go to you, if alive; otherwise to me. But he minimized his wealth—so outrageously that I could not believe him.

  “One night, some months ago, he went into the library. He slammed the door behind him, and came out a short while later. He went upstairs, and I went into the library myself. I was a trifle apprehensive, Carter. I wondered what he had been doing.

  “He had been talking about you as his heir; and the thoughts of old times impelled me to take down that old copy of Dumas. Running through its pages, I came across an envelope. I fingered the flap, and it opened. It had just been sealed. The glue was not quite dry.

  “I knew that Uncle Houston had left it there. That must have been his purpose in the library. I opened the envelope and found the message. Latitude and longitude. I wondered what queer quirk had made him put the message there.”

  Drew paused reflectively; then, noting Carter’s intense interest, proceeded.

  “I came here for a few days last summer” continued Drew. “I couldn’t understand why Uncle Houston had left a message naming this locality. I couldn’t find a clew here. But later, when Farland Tracy called at the house, I heard Uncle Houston say something about money that no one could find.

  “That was just before he took his trip to Florida. When he returned, he claimed that some one must have entered the house during his absence. He was very angry. He summoned Tracy.

  “That night, I listened outside the door of the study. It was then that I heard him speak of hidden wealth; in a place that only his heir could find, because he would leave a clew for either you or me.

  “Then I understood. The message in the Dumas book! How easy it would be for him to leave some word that would guide either of us to it! The night you came home, I was afraid you might not learn. That was why I brought up the subject at the dinner table.

  “But as soon as Tracy left—I figured he had brought you a letter of some sort—I saw you start for the stairs, and I imagined that you were going to the library instead. You seemed worried that night. I felt sure that you had found the message. The next morning, you announced a trip to Europe. I was positive that you would come here instead.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me so?” demanded Carter.

  “Because I feared that you would not understand,” answered Drew. “I owed money for gambling debts—my own fault—and Tracy knew about it. I was afraid that he had mentioned the matter to you I couldn’t forget that I would have been the heir if you had not returned. I didn’t want your money, Carter.

  “But to admit that I had pried into your father’s secret; to try to get in on a search for wealth that might perhaps have come to me; to bring up a matter concerning which you had preserved absolute silence—”

  “I understand now,” nodded Carter thoughtfully. “I understand now, because I know I would not have understood then.”

  “Besides that,” added Drew, “I feared for you. I knew that some one—somehow—had learned of this hidden wealth. It might have looked as though I had squealed—if you came here and ran into trouble—”

  “So you came here alone?” interrupted Carter.

  “Yes,” admitted Drew. “I knew of the shack on the hill. I came here, to watch—to try to protect you. I saw you and your companion come to the cabin. That night, I crawled down to investigate. I was just outside the cabin—”

  “That’s what I heard” interposed Harry, nodding as he turned to Carter Boswick.

  “—outside the cabin,” went on Drew, in a monotone, “when the firing began. I laid low. When you two came around, I didn’t know who you were at first. I didn’t know until I ran, Carter. I saw you were ready to shoot. I kept on, hoping that you would not recognize me. I was afraid you would not understand my motive, my being there at that time.”

  “I didn’t,” said Carter grimly.

  “So I stayed in the shack,” explained Drew. “I waited there, hoping you were safe, afraid that the others would come to search if you did not return. Last night, an autogiro landed near this spot. I saw a light flickering among the trees. It came out of the cave on the hill.

  “After the person with the light was gone, I discovered the cave—the spot for which I had searched last summer! I was sure, then, that the enemy had found the place. So I came in here immediately.

  “I have been working, trying to uncover what is under the slab—to get it out before they came. I wanted to save it for you, Carter, and there was no time to lose. When you two came in here tonight, I thought you were the others. That’s why I came up within the gun.”

  Carter Boswick thumped his cousin on the back. Harry Vincent sat in silence. He knew the significance of the autogiro. He thought of that corkscrew entrance to the cave. Invisible to eyes on the ground—visible to the eyes of The Shadow from the air!

  A SLIGHT sound interrupted Harry’s reverie. The noise seemed to come from back in the main shaft. Harry reached forward, and extinguished the lantern. He spoke softly in the darkness.

  “I think we’re safe enough,” he said. “I know who it was who found this place for us, Carter. The enemy can’t know about it. Just the same, it would he wise to go back to the shaft and look about a bit. Come on. I’ll turn on the light when we reach the main shaft.”

  Cautiously, Harry led the way. They reached the junction of the main shaft and the side corridor. With Harry whispering for silence, the three moved on through the darkness. They had
not gone a dozen feet before Drew Westling stumbled over one rail of the track. He blurted an exclamation as he fell.

  Harry delivered a warning hiss. It came too late. The sound of the fall had traveled along the shaft. As if by a signal, a battery of flashlights turned on, toward the spot where the passage from the rocks entered the shaft.

  Harry and his companions fell back. Gloating cries sounded loudly in their ears as those shouts echoed down the shaft. The three young men were covered by five revolvers. It was too late!

  The enemy had come. They were trapped by a squad of murderers who had somehow found this place. Harsh commands sounded along the shaft. The cornered men raised their hands and let their guns fall. It was the only hope that their lives might be spared.

  Harry Vincent, knowing the brutality of the men with whom they had fought before, expected instant death. He was sorry the moment that he dropped his automatic. It would have been better to have died fighting, he decided, now that it was too late.

  But the death shots did not come. Instead, a man stepped into the light, assuming a position in which his face could be seen. Harry Vincent did not recognize the cold, leering countenance; but the cries of surprise which Carter and Drew uttered showed that the cousins knew their adversary.

  The man who had withheld gun fire that he might ridicule the victims was Farland Tracy, the attorney!

  CHAPTER XXII.

  SHOTS OF DEATH.

  FARLAND TRACY indulged in an evil laugh as he showed himself to the trio at the end of the shaft. Backed by glimmering revolvers, the lawyer had nothing to fear from the men whom he and Hub Rowley had trapped.

  There was no kindliness in the attorney’s features. His face, usually feigning sympathy and understanding, had become the gloating countenance of a fiend. The accustomed mask had lifted.

  “So the cousins have joined forces,” sneered the lawyer, in a low, sarcastic tone. They’ve talked things over, maybe? Wondered why they didn’t understand each other fully? Well, they’ve found out, now.