Part 7 (1/2)

That message, though innocent in itself, would have been a bad one for Marquette to find. It would have proven that Bryland had come back to his apartment; and therefore was not at the theater with Martha Leeth.

Marquette, departing, was so sure that Chandley had mistaken some one for Bryland that he did not question the point further. Thereby, Vic Marquette lost the trail to another mystery; and an important one.

That mystery was the strange disappearance of Frederick Bryland from within the locked confines of his apartment.

CHAPTER XI.

THE SHADOW'S TERMS.

TWENTY minutes after Marquette's departure, a distant clock donged half past eleven. The single clang, floating through chill air, was like a signal.

It brought a response within Bryland's apartment.

Half past eleven was the logical time that Bryland might be found back in his apartment, after an evening at the theater. The sound in Bryland's living room, however, was not that of an unlocking door.

There was a click; but it came from an inner wall. Following it, there was a smooth rumble, a sound that denoted heavy motion, yet which was so m.u.f.fled that it could not have been heard outside the door of the apartment.

There was a repet.i.tion of that barely audible rolling; then the click again. A figure crept through the living room, reached the door and listened there. Crossing the room, the man lowered the window shades; then turned on the corner light.

The glow from the desk revealed Frederick Bryland, his square-jawed face wearing a triumphant smile. The crook found the security box; also the keythat Marquette had used. Bryland knew that his ruse had succeeded.

Satisfied that the secret service men were gone to stay, Bryland picked up the telephone and called Fairfax. He told a servant that he had stopped at his apartment; but would arrive home within the next hour.

From the servant, Bryland heard news of the search that had been made at the mansion. He expressed surprise; snorted angrily and hung up the receiver.

Ready to leave by the apartment door, Bryland reached for the lamp switch.

As he did, he gained a peculiar sensation that he was being watched.

Anxiously, the crook looked everywhere.

The room seemed empty; the lamp flung its glow to every corner except one beside the outer door. With a shrug, Bryland decided that he was imagining something. He reached again for the lamp switch.

As he pulled the switch, Bryland was startled by the result. Timed to the click of his switch there was another, from the main light switch just within the door. Bryland did not hear the other click; hence he was completely amazed by the consequence. As Bryland's lamp went out, the ceiling lights came on.

Wheeling about, Bryland blinked. He was dazzled by the light; he was overwhelmed by sheer desperation at this proof that he was not alone.

Moreover, he was caught completely off guard. Though he instinctively reached for his revolver, Bryland stopped the move before he finished it. He knew that he was trapped.

STANDING at the door was the intruder who had so completely surprised the crook. Bryland's lips lost their smile; hard though they were, those lips trembled as Bryland's sullen, deep-set eyes spied the being who had tricked him.

The invader on the threshold was cloaked in black; his burning eyes focused from beneath the brim of a slouch hat.

All other features were obscured; but below the eyes loomed the muzzle of an automatic, gripped by a blackgloved fist. The Shadow, finding the secret service in charge at Bryland's, had taken time to fully equip himself. That done, he had come here to find Bryland in person.

Bryland's hands came upward. Sullenly, the crook stumbled forward from the desk. His foot hit the metal wastebasket, tipped it to the floor. From the basket rolled the match that Bryland had tossed there when he decided not to light his cigarette.

That sliver of wood, unnoticed by Marquette, had been discovered by The Shadow. Searching with a flashlight, The Shadow had taken the match as evidence of Bryland's earlier entry. The Shadow had waited in darkness, expecting Bryland's reappearance. From the moment that dull sounds had started from the inner wall, The Shadow had been prepared to dumbfound Bryland.

The crook's confusion was twofold. Sight of The Shadow was startling in itself; it was incredible, in view of facts stated by Creelon. The master-spy had sworn that The Shadow was dead; and Creelon would have had no purpose in stating an untruth.

Bryland knew instantly that The Shadow must have eluded Creelon's toils.

Such an escape was proof of amazing prowess. Added to that was Bryland's knowledge that The Shadow had been at Creelon's hide-out in the emba.s.sy.

Bryland was willing to concede that The Shadow knew everything that had happened there.

Trapped by The Shadow, Bryland was in the position of a confessed thief.

The Shadow had the crook marked as the possessor of the NEC. In addition, TheShadow had solved the secret of Bryland's disappearance from the apartment.

Listening, within the apartment itself, the cloaked investigator had certainly guessed Bryland's place of concealment.

It was plain, too, The Shadow knew Bryland to be the would-be murderer who had visited the Hotel Halcyon. The whole situation was a discouraging one for Bryland.

MOST crooks, trapped thus by The Shadow, adopted one of two courses. They either went berserk and hurled themselves at the muzzle of The Shadow's gun, or they whined for mercy. Bryland was too wise to do one or the other. He knew that an attack would force The Shadow to use his automatic. He guessed that The Shadow would not be influenced by a sham plea for pity.

Cool despite his predicament, Bryland adopted measures of his own. He sat down at the desk, reached into his pocket and calmly produced the cigarette that he had foregone a while before. He was deliberate in his moves, to make it plain that he was not going after a gun. The Shadow watched the crook light the cigarette and puff it in complacent fas.h.i.+on.

The Shadow's only comment was a whispered laugh, a tone of low, significant mirth that temporarily jolted Bryland's poise. The crook lost his nonchalance; regained it only after an effort. The Shadow's laugh was a mocking challenge that foreboded ill.

Nevertheless, Bryland decided to talk.

”You're the winner,” admitted the ex-major, bluntly. ”I went the limit, and I've lost. I staked everything and I knew the possible consequence. So I'm due for whatever is coming to me.”

Bryland looked glum for a few minutes; then shrugged his shoulders and added: ”I might as well be a sport about it. Not because I think you'll be easy on me. I don't ask that. I'm a crook, a traitor, and all the rest of it. But I've been a gentleman otherwise; and it won't hurt me to be decent once again.”

Coming to his feet, Bryland chucked the cigarette into the wastebasket.

He faced The Shadow and spoke in frank tone.

”I'll take my medicine,” he concluded. ”You know I have the NEC. You've learned enough to guess that I have it hidden here. In fairness, though, it was just by chance that I went crooked. When I saw Darson's cane at Follingsby's, I.

guessed that the colonel was going to revise the NEC. I took the opportunity to steal it.

”I tried to murder you to cover up. When Creelon made his offer, the only way was to take it. Creelon tried to s.n.a.t.c.h the code from me to-night” - Bryland was scowling at the recollection - ”and he missed out. It's your turn; and since I'm to lose my prize, I'd rather see you get it than Creelon.”

There was an earnestness to Bryland's statement. Shoulders erect, the traitor awaited The Shadow's decision. It came.

”Produce the code,” ordained The Shadow. ”With it, give me a signed statement of your guilt!”

BRYLAND'S eyes lighted. The Shadow's words, though stern and sinister,gave future promise. As always, The Shadow's terms were unconditional.

Nevertheless, they could mean much to Frederick Bryland.