The Shadow Double-Novel Pulp Reprints #45: Terror Island & City of Ghosts s-109

by Maxwell Grant

  They had expected to find small comfort in this island home. Instead, they discovered a living room that was almost sumptuous. Comfortable chairs and lounges stood upon handsome Oriental rugs. Heavy oak bookcases were filled with volumes; these stood upon either side of a fireplace.

  EACH viewer studied a different portion of the room, admiring its contents. One pair of eyes, however, found a focal spot that others scarcely noticed. Those eyes were The Shadow's. Still maintaining his guise of a castaway, the master sleuth gave no expression that anyone could have detected.

  The Shadow was looking toward a mantelpiece above the fireplace; he was viewing an object that hung from the wall over the mantel. To others, it was but an ornament - tasteful and inconspicuous. To The Shadow, it was a symbol that marked the end of an important quest which he had not yet undertaken.

  The Shadow had left the Maldah knowing that all was safe on board. He had wanted to reach shore, that he might fare forth in search of George Dalavan, the murderer whom he had encountered near Miami; through finding Dalavan, The Shadow had hoped to uncover the supercrook whom the murderer served.

  There had been murderers on this shore; but even to The Shadow, their presence had not signified a link to the coming quest. Until he viewed this living room, The Shadow had gained no inkling of connected crime. He had it here, the link he wanted. Above the mahogany plaque; upon its square surface was a design done in bronze.

  The plaque represented a shield, supported on each side by a gryphon. The design was a perfect match for the embossing imprinted upon the sheet of paper that The Shadow had found in the dead hand of James Tolwig.

  This house on the Georgia coast was the headquarters of the supercrook who controlled dozens of rogues like Dalavan; the man who managed a ring that dealt in international theft, wholesale smuggling, and open murder.

  A voice spoke from the doorway of the room. With the others, The Shadow turned about to meet the owner of the house. Playing his role of a chance castaway, The Shadow was face to face with the master crook whom he had not expected to meet for a long while to come.

  CHAPTER VI. THE UNSEEN GUEST

  THE man in the doorway did not look the part of a master criminal. His appearance was quite the opposite; it ended any apprehensions held by The Shadow's companions. Pleasant of voice, friendly in attitude, the master of the lonely house was one who knew how to make his guests feel at home.

  He was portly and bald-headed; his face was wreathed in a smile. He was attired in a green silk dressing gown; in his hand he held a meerschaum pipe that he had been smoking. There was nothing to connect him with the fray on the beach; but The Shadow knew that this genial individual was certainly responsible for all crime that might strike upon the isle.

  "Good evening." The portly man spoke in a half-chuckled tone. "My name is Purvis Elger. It is not often that I am honored with unexpected guests. Allow me to welcome you to my humble abode."

  Another servant stepped up behind Elger. He was tall and cadaverous - a contrast to the huge, big-fisted fellow who had been at the door. Elger ordered the pair to bring in the luggage that the castaways had carried with them. Bowing, shaking hands, Elger himself ushered the guests to their individual rooms. He suggested that they change their attire, then join him in the living room.

  Soon afterward, the group assembled, wearing dry clothes. Puffing at his meerschaum, Elger listened to their story, then spoke.

  "The yacht should come safely to harbor," he declared. "There are many inlets along this coast. The Maldah will find haven. As for the strange attack that took place upon the beach, it is something that can be definitely explained."

  PAUSING, Elger puffed his meerschaum. He studied Bram Jalway, who was languid and half smiling; ready, apparently, to believe what his host might have to say. Elger noted Professor Marcolm; he saw an absentminded look upon the savant's features. Eyeing Seth Hadlow, Elger observed a serious countenance. He felt sure that he could convince the sportsman with the coming explanation.

  "This isle," announced Elger, "is but one of many that line the Georgia coast. It is called Timour Isle; it once formed a colonial plantation. The manor house was in the center of the isle. This building was a look-out house, almost a fortress. The slave quarters were on the opposite side of the isle.

  "All was ruin when I came here. Jungle had overgrown the remains of the other buildings. But the tabby walls of this look-out house were partly standing. Though built of shell, sand and lime, they survived the elements; and their proximity to the beach prevented overgrowth. I restored the building; I am still enlarging it. Meanwhile, I have lived here, devoting myself to study."

  Elger nudged toward the hallway with his meerschaum pipe.

  "My den," he added, "is at the back of the house. I spend most of my time there. I have two servants. Golga, the one who admitted you, stays on duty at night. Royne serves as cook and does day duty. The windows" - Elger gave a sweep of his hand - "are barred. The reason for such protection is because outlaws sometimes visit this isle and those that adjoin it."

  "The men on the beach!" exclaimed Francine. "They were outlaws?"

  Elger nodded.

  "I speak of them as outlaws," he declared. "Some are fugitives from justice. Others are merely treasure seekers; but of a disreputable sort. The fugitives come here because the marsh land between the isles and the mainland are an obstacle to searchers. As for the treasure hunters, they count on the fact that such pirates as Abraham and Blackbeard once used these islands as headquarters."

  "Famous pirates, those," put in Jalway. "Do you think that Abraham and Blackbeard actually buried treasure here?"

  "Possibly," returned Elger. "There is also a chance that colonial inhabitants of these isles buried their own valuables to keep pirates from finding them. Anyway, the treasure hunters come here; and they often fight with other groups who have the same quest.

  "Those murderers whom you encountered were either outlaws who decided that you might be bringing valuables ashore; or they were members of a treasure-seeking band who looked upon you as rivals. In either case, they probably did not expect that you would be armed."

  "Isn't it dangerous, living here?" queried Francine. "Those outlaws might attack this house at any time!"

  "No," stated Elger, "they are skulkers. Real criminals who hide out along this coast do not come in bands. They would be too few to make an attack. The riff-raff come in numbers, to dig about for buried wealth. They would pillage an empty house, if they found one. But they are too fearful of the law to attempt an actual attack.

  "They saw a chance to prey upon persons whom they thought would be helpless. Probably they have fled to the other end of the island, to take a boat that they have hidden in the marsh. But there is always the danger of encountering individual prowlers hereabouts. While you are my guests, I must insist that you remain indoors after dark."

  SOMETHING in Elger's final sentence made Francine look about in wonderment. Bram Jalway understood the girl's expression. He smiled slightly as he spoke.

  "Mr. Elger has informed us," said Jalway, "that communication with the mainland is impossible and will be for some days to come. The storm is rising to hurricane intensity. Even the back channels might prove difficult to navigate."

  "And the roads on the mainland," added Elger, "will be impossible. It would be futile for any of you to leave here. While you are my guests" - his pleasant smile broadened - "this house will be yours. We are well stocked with provisions. There are plenty of books to read. Only one thing is lacking."

  "A radio?" questioned Francine, looking about the room.

  "You have guessed it," laughed Elger. "I ordered one; but its shipment was delayed. A little boat comes over from the mainland, once or twice a week; but we cannot expect it to arrive until after the storm has subsided. So we shall have no radio."

  "I don't mind," declared the girl, with a smile. "To me, Mr. Elger, this is the most wonderful house that I have ever seen. Fancy finding it in this lon
ely spot. I was merely worried about my uncle. That was all. I had hoped that we could notify the coast guards that the Maldah is in distress."

  Golga and Royne appeared just as the girl finished speaking. The big servant spoke to Elger while the cadaverous man stood by. Elger turned solemnly to his guests

  "They have brought in the sailor's body," said Elger. "It is locked in the construction house, with the tools that the workmen left here. I suggest that we leave the body there until we can inform the authorities. Is that agreeable?"

  He was looking from one man to another, not knowing which one to accept as the leader of the group. Catching nods from all concerned, Elger spoke to Golga. The servant handed his master a bunch of keys.

  Royne had already left the living room. As conversation resumed, the cadaverous servant returned bringing a large tray laden with coffee and sandwiches. Elger waved his hand toward the refreshments.

  "Help yourselves," he said. "Make yourselves entirely at home. You have your rooms. Retire when you please. In the meantime, I shall ask you to excuse me. I have been working tonight on problems in non-Euclidean geometry and I should like to resume my studies."

  THE castaways did justice to the coffee and sandwiches. The constant whistling of the increasing gale seemed remote in this secluded spot. Refreshments ended, the group relaxed. Professor Marcolm arose and smiled.

  "I have studies of my own," he remarked, "but I shall forego them tonight. I am going to bed. Good night."

  "Not a bad idea," grunted Dashler as the professor departed. The sailor had been sitting silently in a corner. "I've got a bunk and I'm going to use it."

  The others chatted for a short while after Dashler had left. Then they, too, decided to retire. Hadlow and Jalway had been given rooms on opposite sides of the hall, while Francine's room was across from the professor's.

  Royne, the cadaverous servant, had disappeared. It was Golga who came into the living room after the guests had all retired. The big servant began to gather up cups and plates. That task completed, he turned out the light and carried the tray along the hall toward the kitchen, which was at the rear of the long, low building.

  Only the rear hall was lighted. It formed a dim corridor past the doorways of rooms where the guests were stationed. While creepy, whistling winds wailed unrelenting about the secluded house, a cloaked figure emerged from the blackness of the front hall. It was The Shadow; ghostlike in his glide, he moved along the rear hallway.

  A light glimmered beneath a door. With noiseless stride, The Shadow reached the doorway. His gloved hand moved forward; it gripped the doorknob and moved the door inward, inch by inch. The Shadow peered into the room that Purvis Elger had termed his "den."

  To the others from the Maldah, that abode was merely the private quarters of a man who chose the life of a recluse. To The Shadow, this den was the lair of a cunning supercrook, identified by the gryphon plaque upon the living room wall.

  The den looked like a study. A desk was piled high with books. Other volumes lay upon a lounge. The walls of the room were lined with bookcases, which held more volumes than the shelves that The Shadow had seen in the living room.

  The den was empty; but a light from a half-opened door indicated an inner bedroom. Elger had gone there. Taking advantage of the supercrook's absence; The Shadow entered the den and closed the door from the hall.

  A heavy bookcase ended near a corner. The space formed a niche against the wall. The Shadow glided in that direction; he became a tall shape of motionless black, as he took to the improvised hiding place. From here, The Shadow could peer straight toward the half-closed door of the bedroom.

  The barrier opened as he watched. Elger came out and went to the desk. He began to consult an opened book that lay there. He was interrupted by a knock at the door from the hall.

  Elger spoke. The door opened. Golga entered. The servant's face wore a cunning gleam. Elger noted it and smiled.

  "They have all retired?" he questioned, softly.

  "Yes," growled Golga.

  "Turn in then," ordered Elger. "I shall talk with you in the morning."

  Golga departed. As soon as the servant was gone, Elger arose and went to the door. He locked it, then extinguished the light. He crossed the den and entered the bedroom, leaving the door partly opened.

  THE SHADOW moved from his hiding place. Stealthy in the darkness, he followed Elger's course. He peered into the bedroom. Elger had removed his dressing gown; he was donning coat and vest, all that he required to be fully clad.

  Besides a bureau and a bed, this room boasted a bookcase in an obscure corner. These shelves appeared to be stocked with the overflow of volumes from the den; but The Shadow noted that the books were lined in perfect order. That indicated some other purpose; for Elger, if he used those books, would probably have allowed them to reach a stage of disarray.

  The real purpose of the bookcase became apparent as Elger approached that corner of the room. Removing one volume, the portly man pressed a hidden spring. The bookcase swung outward, like a hinged door. Beyond it loomed a blackened passage.

  Elger entered. His bald head moved downward. The man was descending steep steps. Hardly had he disappeared before the bookcase closed automatically. At the same instant, the light went out in the bedroom.

  A soft laugh in the darkness. The Shadow's cloak swished slightly as his form moved forward. A tiny flashlight glimmered. A gloved hand found the book that Elger had removed. The Shadow drew the volume forth, then probed the space where it had been.

  A click. The Shadow stepped back as the bookcase opened. Musty, dampened air issued forth from the staircase in the wall. Moments passed; then that atmosphere ended. The bookcase had closed. The room was silent.

  The Shadow, alert upon the trail, was following the course that Purvis Elger had taken. He was on his way to learn the secret that lay beneath this house on Timour Isle.

  CHAPTER VII. CAVERNS OF WEALTH

  A TINY flashlight glimmered amid inky blackness. A soft laugh came from hidden lips. The light went out. Stealthily, The Shadow swished forward through a passage that was low and long beneath the ground.

  The Shadow had reached the bottom of the hidden stairway. Waiting there, he listened to the sound of fading footfalls from ahead. Positive that Purvis Elger had left this dank corridor, the black-garbed investigator was again taking up the trail.

  At intervals the flashlight blinked, its small circle directed toward the rough stone floor of the passage. Though hidden traps seemed unlikely, The Shadow was taking no chances in his pursuit.

  As he proceeded, however, he became confident that the only secret of this corridor was its hidden entrance. Oozing spaces between the stones showed that the moist ground offered no possibilities of a hidden pitfall.

  The passage ended one hundred yards from the house. The Shadow encountered a stone wall in the darkness. Instead of using his flashlight, The Shadow waited in the gloom; then he sensed a slight draught from the right. That indicated another corridor. Groping, The Shadow found the passage.

  A few rods brought him to another barrier. This was a door, sheathed with metal. Cautiously, The Shadow opened it. Dim light greeted his keen eyes. The Shadow was in a square-walled cavern, which was hazily illuminated by the glow from an opening beyond.

  Dim shapes stood by the wall. Burnished surfaces reflected the dim glow. Eyeing these figures, The Shadow discerned that they were suits of armor, standing like rigid sentinels. They were not the only objects in the cavern.

  Large chests were stacked along the wall. Upon them rested several vases that gleamed dully in the light. In a corner stood a group of metal cylinders. The Shadow could guess the nature of their contents: rolled-up paintings, stowed in these tubes to prevent injury from dampness.

  Passing the metal sentinels, The Shadow reached the opening beyond. From darkness, he gazed into a second, smaller cavern. This room contained a few odd chests; beyond it was the opening to a larger, darkened room.

&n
bsp; MOST important, however, were the living occupants of the middle room. Two men were seated upon chests; the glow of a lantern showed their faces. One was Purvis Elger; the other was a hard-faced, roughly clad fellow, with bristly, unshaven cheeks.

  The Shadow had seen that countenance before. Elger's companion was a New York mob-leader, known as "Ruff" Turney. He had disappeared from Manhattan some months ago. Rumor had it that Ruff had been slain in a wholesale mob killing.

  Blended with the darkness of the room that he had crossed, The Shadow waited, listening. He had caught the sound of voices during his advance; now he could distinguish the words that passed between the men whom he had uncovered. Purvis Elger was talking in a testy tone.

  "You knew my orders, Ruff," announced the portly man. "There was no excuse for that attack on the lifeboat. You should have given the word to scatter."

  "That's what I did," growled Ruff. "But it was too late. We got fooled, chief. It wasn't until the sailor came running up that we knew those mugs weren't from the Dalmatia."

  "You should not have been on the beach at all. I told you that the Dalmatia would anchor off the lower inlet."

  "We saw the lights from there, chief. Then the ship anchored farther up. We figured the captain had missed his bearings. That's why we went out to the beach and sent up our rockets."

  "I told you that the Dalmatia was a tramp steamer, like the others that have anchored off here."

  "I know that. That's what we thought the ship was. We saw a line of lights, coming up and down with the waves."

  "A low line?"

  "Sure. Kind of low, but the way they went up and down, it was hard to figure them. Say - what was the boat, anyway?"

  "A yacht. The Maldah, owned by a shoe manufacturer named Kingdon Feldworth. And you and your outfit mistook it for a tramp steamer!"

  ELGER ended his utterance with a contemptuous snort. Ruff Turney's bristly face showed a sour expression. The mob-leader stroked his chin; then grunted an excuse.