The Shadow Unmasks s-131

by Maxwell Grant

  Audibly, hidden lips softly phrased the name:

  "Michael Chanbury."

  Though Chanbury was chiefly an art collector, he had talked gems with Henshew - according to reports at Farrow's. A sale to Chanbury could be explained by Henshew, if Chanbury mentioned it. Henshew would lose little for he would receive cash for the jewels.

  If Chanbury kept the sale confidential, as Henshew hoped, the way would be clear for new robbery. If Shark Meglo murdered Chanbury, the law might not suspect a robbery at all. Shark had a grudge against Chanbury.

  CLOSING the cache, The Shadow worked on the writing desk and unlocked it. He found Henshew's tools and other items, which explained the crook's practice of altering gems. Chanbury had seen Silsam's jewels; the ones that Henshew showed Chanbury would not look the same.

  The Shadow closed the desk and locked it.

  In the desk drawer, The Shadow found some odd mountings that Henshew had not used. Before he could lock the drawer, there came a sound from the apartment door.

  Thinking that Henshew had returned, The Shadow risked leaving the drawer unlocked. He faded to a corner past a half-opened closet door.

  It was not Henshew who entered. The man who came into the room moved clumsily through the darkness. He lowered the window shades, used a flashlight to find the wall switch. He turned on the lights. The Shadow saw a stoop-shouldered man who had a wan, prying face and quick, nervous eyes.

  He knew the fellow from description.

  The man was Jim Tyrune, the private detective.

  Tyrune had unlocked the door with a pass-key; and that marked the limit of his lock work. He tried the writing desk, but couldn't open it. Finding the drawer unlocked, he made a note of its contents in a memo book.

  Looking around the room, he checked on everything. He eyed the bookcase suspiciously, but did not disturb it.

  Tyrune paced the floor to put down measurements, but he did not come close to The Shadow's hiding spot. Finally, the dick turned out the lights, raised the shades and blundered out through the door of the apartment.

  As soon as he was gone, The Shadow locked the desk drawer and followed. He trailed Tyrune down a stairway and out through a rear door of the apartment house.

  Tyrune stopped at the nearest corner and paced about, hands in pockets. He kept peeking through a drug store window, to watch a big clock on the wall. At last, he looked for a taxi and saw one coming along the darkened side street. Tyrune stopped it, only a few yards from a darkened wall space where The Shadow stood.

  The Shadow heard Tyrune give an address to the taxi driver. The dick added:

  "I'm not in a hurry. Take your time getting there."

  The cab pulled away. The Shadow's laugh was whispered, after the taxi had gone. Tyrune, himself, had supplied the link that The Shadow wanted. The address that the dick had given was that of Chanbury's Long Island home.

  The Shadow was right. Henshew had gone to Chanbury's. But in Michael Chanbury, the smart crook was due to find a man much different from those whom he had duped in the past. Like The Shadow, Chanbury had seen through Henshew's game.

  The Shadow could foresee the trapping of Madden Henshew; and Shark Meglo with him.

  CHAPTER XV. CHANBURY DECIDES

  WHILE The Shadow was finishing his investigation in Manhattan, Henshew and Chanbury were at the latter's Long Island home. They were seated in the downstairs portrait room; between them lay opened jewel cases, with a fine array of gems.

  Chanbury was inspecting the disguised stones that had once been Silsam's. He seemed totally oblivious to the bold game that Henshew was playing. He questioned the price of the collection. Henshew set it at a quarter million.

  "I should like to buy them -"

  Chanbury hesitated, to shake his head. If he expected Henshew to bargain, he missed a guess. Henshew was avoiding that. Moreover, he had noted the reluctant tone of Chanbury's voice. Henshew sat back and let Chanbury study the gems again.

  After some twenty minutes, Chanbury still seemed uncertain, Henshew calmly put the gems back in their cases, remarking:

  "I can bring them here again. It would be well, perhaps, to inform Inspector Cardona -"

  His tone was almost a warning. Chanbury laughed as he clapped Henshew's shoulder.

  "I won't make Silsam's mistake," said Chanbury. "He dealt with an impostor. I am dealing with the most reputable jewel merchant in this country!"

  Henshew expressed his appreciation of Chanbury's compliment. He tried to pass it off with feigned modesty. That merely brought new praise from Chanbury.

  "Your opinion is all I require," Chanbury told Henshew. "I know that your price is the right one. As for the police" - he shook his head - "frankly, I believe that all their moves are being watched. Where Cardona goes, crooks are apt to follow."

  Chanbury glanced at his watch as though he had remembered something.

  "It would be best for you to leave," he said, "if we are to keep this matter confidential. I expect an unwanted visitor - that private detective, Tyrune."

  "Why is he coming here?" questioned Henshew, in a surprised tone.

  "To check over those lists of Silsam's gems," explained Chanbury. "They want a better description. How they expect me to give one is a puzzle. The lists were far more detailed than any description that I can give."

  THE statement pleased Henshew. At Chanbury's suggestion, he shoved the jewel cases into inside pockets so that none of the servants could see them. Eleanor was absent tonight; Henshew had made sure that it was the secretary's night off, before he arranged the visit.

  "You are the one who must be careful," warned Chanbury. "You are carrying a valuable cargo."

  "I am going straight to the office," returned Henshew. "They are waiting there for me, to put the gems in the vault."

  Chanbury seemed reluctant because he had postponed the purchase. He stopped Henshew at the door and questioned:

  "If I decide to buy, would you require cash?"

  Henshew smiled, queried: "What else have you?"

  Chanbury beckoned him to the desk. From deep in a drawer, he produced a chamois bag and poured its contents into the light. Henshew saw rough, uncut diamonds in a quantity that amazed him.

  "I have gathered these for years," remarked Chanbury, "but they give me very little satisfaction. I should prefer finished stones, instead. I also like variety. I have been told that these uncut diamonds are worth close to two hundred thousand dollars."

  Henshew examined the uncut gems. He spoke frankly when he said:

  "They are worth more. At least a quarter million. They would do as payment for the gems that you saw tonight."

  "I shall consider it."

  Chanbury walked to the door with Henshew; he asked when his visitor could call again.

  "I am going to Philadelphia to appraise some gems tomorrow," said Henshew. "Any other evening would do."

  "I shall be at home every night this week."

  The doorknob was turning as Chanbury reached for it. That door had been ajar, but neither man had noticed it. As the two stepped into the outside gallery, darkness moved ahead of them. Lights were dim; the occurrence escaped observation. That darkness blocked itself beneath the marble stairs before Chanbury and Henshew arrived there.

  A servant ushered Henshew up the long, curved stairs. Chanbury went back to his portrait room. After ten minutes, another caller arrived. The man was Tyrune. He went through to Chanbury's room; the servant who conducted him returned upstairs.

  Darkness stirred beneath the marble staircase. A silent gliding shape, The Shadow followed the gallery, to reach the door of Chanbury's portrait room. The Shadow had traveled here ahead of Tyrune, arriving soon enough to witness the finish of Henshew's visit. He had a present opportunity to view what followed.

  Under The Shadow's expert pressure, the knob of Chanbury's door turned slowly. The door itself moved imperceptibly inward. Through a narrow crack, The Shadow saw and heard all that happened within.

  "HENSHEW
is a crook!" The firm words were Chanbury's. "Without a question, Jim. Look" - busy at his desk, Chanbury passed over papers that he was rapidly writing - "see these lists. They describe the gems that Henshew showed me tonight. They are the ones that were stolen from Silsam's!"

  "They don't tally with Silsam's gems."

  "Of course not! But you have just told me that you found mountings in Henshew's desk drawer. Can't you see what the rogue had done? He cut those gems; changed their settings."

  Tyrune was still doubtful. Chanbury brought out a list of Silsam's collection. He spoke triumphantly.

  "The total tallies. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires - even the little diamonds. That's one trick Henshew missed. How can he explain that his gems number the same as Silsam's?"

  Tyrune was impressed. Chanbury drove home another point.

  "What price do you think Henshew gave my uncut diamonds? A quarter million! Because I hoaxed him into it, by saying they were worthless. He'd be glad to take them for those planted jewels that have been going the rounds. Of course he would. My uncut diamonds have been appraised at four hundred thousand dollars. Henshew mistook me for an eighteen carat sucker."

  Chanbury reached for the desk telephone.

  "I'm calling Inspector Cardona."

  Tyrune shook his head.

  "What can you prove against Henshew?" he questioned. "After all, his gems don't fit the weak description that we have of Silsam's. Henshew is safe. He can deny everything."

  Chanbury settled back in his chair. He thought over what Tyrune had said. He picked up a key that Tyrune had laid on the desk.

  "If you had only brought back more evidence, Jim," he said, "we could pin the goods on Henshew. I'll label this pass-key Exhibit A; but it means very little. I hoped that you'd find clues in the apartment, while I was holding Henshew here."

  "Here's the whole layout, Mr. Chanbury." Tyrune produced the notebook. "But you told me not to disturb anything. So I didn't. I didn't think it wise to pinch any of those things in the desk drawer.

  Henshew might have missed them."

  "Yes, he probably would have."

  Chanbury's face was troubled. Tyrune made a suggestion.

  "How about going through with the deal?" asked the dick. "Let Henshew sell you those gems. Then be ready when Shark comes to get them. If Henshew's the crook, Shark will surely show up, later."

  "I've had that idea," returned Chanbury. "I'm in deep, though. If I give Henshew the uncut diamonds, he will make so huge a profit that he may be satisfied. Then there would be no attempted robbery."

  That stumped Tyrune. Chanbury arose and paced the floor impatiently, shoving his fingers through his graystreaked hair. At last he stopped, with a snap of his fingers.

  "I'll call Henshew tomorrow! I'll tell him that I intend to keep my uncut diamonds. I'll say that I want his gems anyway; that I've raised the cash to buy them outright."

  "That may make him suspicious -"

  "Let it. The harder he's pressed, the more chance he'll make a mistake. His nerve is colossal! He proved that tonight. Yes, I think the shift in our game will be just the thing to settle Madden Henshew."

  THE discussion was ended. Tyrune started for the door, and Chanbury walked along with him as he had with Henshew. The Shadow was gone when they reached the gallery. Beside the stairway, he heard Chanbury's voice:

  "I suspected Henshew the night that he was here. He showed a mean eye when he looked at that chap Vincent. That's why I was concerned for Vincent's safety."

  The two men reached the head of the stairway. The Shadow followed, but did not move toward the front door. Instead, he chose a convenient side passage - one that Harry Vincent had mentioned in a thorough report.

  Hardly had The Shadow edged from view before one of Chanbury's servants arrived. The man became suspicious; he turned on a light.

  The Shadow was just beyond the glow, close to the blackness of the side passage outer door, edging it slowly outward. Had the servant approached, The Shadow would have needed a swift move. The fellow delayed, because he heard Chanbury call.

  When Chanbury arrived, he found the servant staring steadily at the blackness that represented the side door.

  "What is the matter?" asked Chanbury. "Did you hear anything?"

  "I thought I saw some one," answered the servant. "But nothing's moved since."

  Chanbury's lips tightened. He feared some spy of Henshew's, here to spoil the well-laid plan to trap the master-crook. Leaving the servant on watch, Chanbury stepped away, to return promptly with a revolver and a flashlight. The servant reported no change.

  Chanbury advanced with the flashlight. Shining on the door, the glare showed vacancy. The key was in the lock; Chanbury tried the door. It was locked. Chanbury's face showed relief. There could have been no one in that side passage.

  Chanbury never guessed that an amazing intruder had eased past the half-opened door, to close it and lock it with a probing pincer-pick from the outside.

  Again, The Shadow had made an invisible departure. Lost in blanketing night, he had carried away the knowledge that others were planning trouble for Madden Henshew.

  The Shadow could see a way to combine those purposes with his own.

  CHAPTER XVI. HENSHEW'S VISITOR

  AT five the next afternoon, Clyde Burke visited Henshew's offices near Maiden Lane. His pretext for the trip was that he required some information for a feature story concerning famous crown jewels. Henshew was always willing to give interviews on such subjects.

  It happened, however, that Henshew had left the office. Clyde explained the purpose of his visit; he stated that he would have to interview Henshew soon, as the feature story was needed.

  By such tactics, Clyde learned that Henshew had left for Philadelphia on the four-o'clock express.

  "Merely a trip down and back," explained Henshew's secretary. "A matter of a brief appraisal. Mr.

  Henshew will probably return on the seven-o'clock train."

  "Then he should be home by nine," calculated Clyde. "Perhaps I could see him there."

  "Mr. Henshew never welcomes evening callers. It would be better if you made an appointment to come here tomorrow morning."

  Clyde agreed that tomorrow morning would be soon enough. As he was about to leave the office, he pretended to remember something.

  "I understood that I would meet Mr. Chanbury here," he remarked. "He said that he would wait for me. I suppose that he arrived too late to see Mr. Henshew?"

  "Mr. Chanbury?"

  The name puzzled the secretary. He looked up the records of the day's calls and finally discovered Chanbury's name. He informed that Chanbury had telephoned at half past three, just before Henshew left to catch his train. Since Chanbury had talked to Henshew, the latter had probably told him that he was leaving town; hence Chanbury had made no appointment.

  That was the secretary's version of it. Clyde phoned Burbank, later, with the details; and the report reached The Shadow promptly. The Shadow knew the real reason for Chanbury's call to Henshew.

  Chanbury had already known that the jewel broker was going to Philadelphia. Chanbury had telephoned simply to offer cash, instead of uncut diamonds, for Henshew's fine collection of gems.

  It happened that The Shadow had a dinner engagement with Commissioner Weston at the Cobalt Club.

  The Shadow was to appear there at six, as Kent Allard. Weston made a great show of introducing celebrities at the club, and he had probably arranged a large evening.

  Weston would be disappointed when Allard left soon after eight o'clock; but such would have to be the case.

  Since Henshew was due back by nine, Allard could not stay at the club too late. As The Shadow, he intended to visit Henshew's apartment before the crook returned.

  THERE was another person due for a disappointment. That was Clyde Burke. Weston had invited him to the club and Clyde had been highly pleased at the prospect of meeting Kent Allard again. Clyde lost his enthusiasm when he stopped at the Classic office at
five thirty.

  There was a message requesting him to call the beauty shop of a Manhattan hotel. Clyde made the call; when he gave his name, he was told to hold the telephone. A few minutes later, he heard a girl's voice:

  "Hello, Mr. Burke! This is Eleanor Merwood. Remember?"

  Clyde did remember. In his recent visits to Chanbury's, he had discovered nothing of interest except Eleanor Merwood. Clyde had invited the girl to dinner and theater, any time she happened to be free.

  She had agreed to call the Classic office and inform him.

  "I thought I'd hear from you last night," said Clyde. "Wasn't that your night off?"

  "It was," replied Eleanor, "but I had to visit some relatives. This afternoon, at four o'clock, Mr. Chanbury decided he wouldn't need me any longer. So I came in town."

  Clyde told Eleanor about the Cobalt Club dinner. It would be impossible for him to dine with the girl; and he probably wouldn't get away from Allard's reception until very late in the evening. Eleanor was disappointed; but said she could meet Clyde another time.

  "I'll have dinner alone, and be home early," she said. "I can finish some work that I was putting off until tomorrow. I may have another free evening soon."

  "By the way," remarked Clyde, "I was at Henshew's at five. I learned that Mr. Chanbury called there.

  Was it anything that might mean news?"

  "I don't know," replied Eleanor, frankly. "I called the number for Mr. Chanbury, but I was not in the room when he talked to Mr. Henshew."

  THE dinner at the Cobalt Club proved a dull affair, attended by a quota of stuffed-shirt members, who asked Kent Allard useless questions regarding his experiences in Guatemala. Everything that they asked had been printed in the newspapers; and Clyde expected to see Allard show impatience.

  Instead, the famous aviator maintained his usual calm and answered everything in concise fashion.

  At eight-fifteen, Allard arose and gravely shook hands around the circle. He stated that he was returning to his hotel; and his decision was so emphatic that Weston could not even splutter an objection. Walking out to the foyer, Weston questioned: