The Shadow 111 City of Crime by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1936-10-21T22:00:00+00:00

The blotter was double surfaced. Woodstock, until tonight, had used the upper side. Tonight, he had begun with the blank side of the blotter. Its fresh surface showed only two marks. One was Woodstock’s own signature, reversed; quite plain, for the contractor had pressed heavily with his pen. The other was lighter; but The Shadow recognized it. The second mark bore a distinct resemblance to Stephen Ruthley’s signature.

The master crook had overlooked one small item in his arrangement of the suicide scene. Just as he had left evidence at his own apartment, indicating that he had gone to visit Woodstock, so had he left a clue which proved that he had actually come to the contractor’s home. This blotter could nullify the evidence that Ruthley had planted in Woodstock’s safe.

Ordinarily, The Shadow would have left the blotter on the desk. Circumstances caused him to do otherwise tonight. The Shadow had gauged Stephen Ruthley too well, to believe that the murderer would leave anything to chance. Though Ruthley thought his crime was perfect, he would certainly count upon the opinion of a man well qualified to judge.

This crime would be discovered. Police would arrive; with them, Police Director Borman. Knowing Ruthley to be the perpetrator of crime. Kirk Borman would be on the lookout for every minor detail. If Borman found the blotter, he would promptly dispose of it. As evidence, the blotter would never serve, if left upon the scene of crime. Therefore, The Shadow kept the blotter; he placed it beneath his cloak, along with other items that he had acquired upon this night of investigation.

The Shadow was ready for a return visit to Stephen Ruthley’s apartment. He knew that he could enter there, through the secret passage, to surprise Ruthley in the latter’s own den. Almost ready for departure, The Shadow paused on the far side of the desk, to lean across and make a last inspection of Woodstock’s body. It was while The Shadow stood in this position that he heard a sound from somewhere in the house.

BOARDS were creaking, as though invaders were creeping up the front stairs. Wheeling from the desk, The Shadow crossed the room. He gained the hall and reached the top of the back stairs, to listen for sounds from the front. Audible whispers reached The Shadow.

“Maybe it was a crank call,” came one comment. “The guy that phoned headquarters may have just thought he heard a shot.”

“We can’t take any chances, though,” was the response. “Director Borman said to move in, softlike, and investigate.”

“Yeah. He’s outside, too, waiting for us to report.”

“That’s why we’d better take a gander into that lighted room.”

The approaching men were detectives from headquarters. A call had been made there, reporting a gun-shot heard within Woodstock’s house. Probably, Ruthley had made that call, soon after his departure. Kirk Borman had been at his office, expecting it. Since Borman was outside, it was likely that members of the Flying Squadron were with him.

The Shadow decided upon stealthy departure, in order to head for Ruthley’s without trouble on the way.

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