THE GREEN SHADOW

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 960, 1 May 1930, Page 5

THE GREEN SHADOW

By

HERMAN LANDON

Copyright by Publio Ledger

CHAPTER XX. "Don’t know whether that bird wants to lug a corpse or a coupleliundred quarts of hooch. Notjbin in my life, anyhow. Looks like a swell. Guess he won’t argue ’bout the price.” He turned and shouted toward the interior of the garage: "Hey, you feilers!” AN UNWELCOME SURPRISE After leaving the garage. Dale hurried homeward to inquire of Bilkins whether any important letters or telephone messages had arrived during his absence. He hummed a little tune, and he looked as if he expected an exhilarating evening. If all went well, and if he struck no unexpected snags in the execution of his carefully prepared plan, Dr. Moffett would eat tomorrow morning’s breakfast behind bars of steel. The thought was at once gratifying and depressing. How would Adele Castle take the crash of her illusions? But she must know some time, and the sooner the better. She was young and even the cruellest wounds heal quickly in youth. Besides, It was best that she should discover the fatal truth for herself. Only the testimony of her own eyes and ears would convince her that Paul Ainsworth was a blackguard. Indirect evidence, no matter how impressive, she would thrust aside with a toss of her proud head. Dale dismissed the taxi outside his residence, and in a few moments he was interviewing the faithful hut vil-lainous-looking Bilkins. The telephone had been ringing all afternoon. Bilkins announced, hut no one had left a message. Dale skimmed over a few letters, but there was not h pig of importance. He was not disappointed. In this situation, no news was good news. He dismissed Bilkins and went to the telephone. It was more than likely that, some time during the night, he would want Summers in-'a hurry, and he wanted to be sure where he could be found. His lips twitched humorously as he called the number. For the Picaroon to deliver a dangerous criminal into Summers’s hands was indeed an amusing thought, and it was precisely what Dale expected to happen. But Summers could not be reached either at his office or his residence, and Dale hung up, intending to make another attempt later. From a drawer in his desk he took several quaint articles and distributed them among his pockets. Then he glanced at his watch and hurried out. A taxi with flag raised came cruisiug along, and he hailed it and jumped in, failing to perceive that an inconspicuous individual across the street was watching him with marked interest. “Flaggler’s restaurant on Rector Street,” he told the driver. His mind was busy while the taxi carried him to his destination. He reviewed each step in the programme he had mapped out. About 30.30 the Waynefleet eight would draw up in front of the Castle residence. The street he knew, would be dimly lighted at that point. The driver would disappear, and no one was likely to notice what became of him. About a quarter to 13 Miss Castle would step out, take her .place at the wheel, and drive toward Herald Square. Somewhere between that point and 50th Street she would receive a note or an oral message tehing her where to go. All the while she would be under the closest kind of surveillance by' Doctor Moffett s agents. If anyone should attempt to follow her at a discreet distance, or communicate with her along the route. Dr. Moffett’s spies would know it Tt was even possible that, at one of the traffic stops, someone would glance into the tonneau to make sure that the car carried no concealed passenger.

Dale chuckled amusedly. The spies might look in all the obvious hiding places. In the human mass that would swirl up and down Broadway all that hour they could easily do so without attracting attention to themselves. But they would never think of inspecting the top. Whoever heard of a passenger being concealed in such a place? Not even Miss Castle would have an inkling of such a thing. That might have made her self-conscious and distrait, and the spies would have been quick to notice her state of mind. As for her destination, he could make a fairly accurate surmise as to that. In his mind was a picture of a house just across the Connecticut border, sheltered by a tall picket fence and dense clumps of trees, giving the eye an impression of an abandoned and dilapidated estate. A gloomy place it was, looking a little sinister at night in its chill and dreary aloofness. , . . , This was the house to which he had trailed the ear on the night of the Mummers’s Frolic. He had spent the next day reconnoitring the immediate environs, but without approaching vei> close to the house itself. It seemed almost certain that this was the house to which Miss Castle was to be directed, but'he could not be quite positive. Having dispatched her on a hazardous adventure, he could not gamble with her safety. And so he had conceived the idea of remaining with her, almost within arm’s reach, from start to finish.

It promised to be an eventful night in the Picaroon’s career. He tingled with suppressed excitement as he stepped from the taxi, too preoccupied to notice that another vehicle had drawn up just a few paces to the rear and that its sole occupant gave him a sustained glance as he alighted. was an old establishment, of quiet dignity and unobtrusive ele gance. He knew that Mr. Castle sometimes went there; in fact, he had seen him there on several occasions. The head waiter, a man with a long and highly remunerative memory for faces, bowed profoundly and inquired concerning Dale’s preference with regard to a table. Dale let his eyes wander over the crowd of diners. Out of the multitude he picked out a pale, aristocratic face with a nervous strain in it, but also something commanding and aggressive. Then, Ills' gaze wavering, he saw another face that was equally familiar. “I see a friend,” he told the heau waiter. “You needn’t trouble.” He walked briskly toward a table in the rear where Virgil Ellsworth Castle was dining in solitude, but when half-way there he made a slight detour and stopped before another table. “Good evening, Mr. Ferryman,” he murmured. Mr. Ferryman drew uii his head with a nervous start that caused the glasses to slip from his nose. They dangled at the end of the long ribbon, swung precariously, and would have been shattered .against the table if Dale had not caught them in time. With his habitual curiosity, which extended even to trifles, he glanced at the lenses. His glance narrow'ed and length eued. He started a little. And then, with the most casual of smiles, he handed the glasses to Mr. Ferryman “Oh, thanks,” the old man mumbled. He seemed slightly embarrassed. “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Dale.” A little chill crept into his eyes. “Miss Castle told me that you have offered to help her,” said Dale pleas antly. “It’s very good of you. 1 thought I would thank you on hei behalf.” He bowed slightly and moved away. "Good heavens!” he exclaimed under his breath. And then, as he was ap proaching the table at which Mr. Castle sat, he almost stopped in his tracks. His eyes had wandered tu

the far side of the room, where a lonely diner sat. They paused on an unfamiliar face —the ugliest lace he had ever seen in his life, and for a moment, he stared in stupefaction. The face was not only ugly, but repulsive as well. He pulled himself together, and moved on. But his mind was whirling with a recollection of something Miss Castle had said. Dr. Moffett had told her that one of Iris reasons for not wishing to be seen was that he had the ugliest face in creation. Dale, now moving toward Mr. Castle’s table, wondered whether there could be another face in all the world as ugly, as the one he bad just seen. His brain reeled a little. The vast room seemed to resolve itself into a triangle, with Mr. Castle at one point, Mr. Ferryman at another, and the man with the unsightly face at the third. It struck him as an odd conjunction of personalities. Was it just by chance that they were ail here ? His face bore no sign of his mental agitation when he stopped at Mr. Castle’s table. “How is the mysterious Mr. Graves this evening?” he asked in an undertone as he slipped into the vacant seat. The older man started violently and stared in a terrified way at liis unbidden companion. “Don’t alarm yourself, Mr. Castle.” said Dale quickly. “I am here as a friend.” • Virgil Ellsworth Castle sat back and continued to stare. His face was ashen. His jaw had become a quivering lump. Slowly he recovered a little composure. Despite the startling greeting, there was something about the other man that inspired confidence. Dale consulted his card and gave his order. Then his glance wandered over the restaurant for a moment. Mr. Ferryman was gone, but the man with the ugly face was still at his table. He seemed to send a covert glance in Dale's direction. “Mr. Castle,” he murmured in a discreetly lowered tone, “my name is Martin Dale. I know you are the mysterious Mr. Graves. I also know that Dr. , Moffett is threatening you. Please don’t trouble to deny the facts. It would be only a waste of time. I am in Miss Castle’s confidence. She trusts me. Will you do likewise?” T3;e astounding statements seemed to come a little too fast for Mr Castle. His eyes alternately bulged and narrowed. A medley of expressions crossed his face. “What have you to say to me?” he asked thickly. “Are you returning to your office after dinner?” “Yes,” came the answer in a stag- , gered voice, “I expect to remain there till midnight.” "Good! This is all I have to as!you. If your telephone should ring any time tonight, don’t answer it. Will you agree to that?” Mr. Castle regarded him with astonishment and suspicion, but tha latter expression vanished rapidly. “It’s most extraordinary,” ho began. “I don’t understand— ” “Please don’t try to understand. Just do as I say, and I’ll promise that in a day or two you need have no fear of Dr. Moffett.”

Mr. Castle smiled —a smile of vague, uncertain hope. “What you ask is < simple,” he remarked, “but your promise is astounding. Very well, I’ll do as you suggest.” “Splendid!” Dale fell into an easy conversational tone. “Now tell me something. You notice the man away over in the rear. No, a little farther to the left. The one with the scarecrow face. Ever seen him before?” “Yes, I think I’ve seen him here a few times, but I can’t tell you who he is. Why do you ask?” “Just out of curiosity.” Mr. Castle drained his coffee cup. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a great many things to attend to at the office.” “Don’t forget,” said Dale. Left alone, Dale smiled agreeably. He had driven another spike into Dr. Moffett’s big gun. In doing so, he had anticipated an emergeney that might not develop, but he wished to be prepared against every possible chance. Even if Dr. Moffett’s plan should succeed up to o certain point, he would be thrown into confusion by his inability to communicate with his victim. Dale lingered a long time over cotfee and cigarette. He had seen a number of strange things since he entered the restaurant, and he was turning several new ideas over in his mind, blit these developments would not affect his plans for the night. Afterward, in a telephone booth across the street, he called up Miss Castle and gave her a few final instructions. Out on the street again, he stood at the curb and lighted a cigarette, and as he did so he looked about him with a faintly bewildered air. Something seemed to flash a warning to his brain, but he eou!d not trace it to its source. The bystanders and pedestrians looked harmless. Yet, just to play safe, he started a series of manoeuvres designed to throw a shadow off his trail. The sharp twists, convolutions and detours occupied the better part of an hour. He stopped and looked about him again, and now the nagging and elusive impression of stealthly espionage was gone. He looked at his watch. It would soon be time to go back to the garage and claim the car. The car was waiting for him when he arrived. He inspected the new

op carefully, and cheerfully paid an sxtortionate charge for the work. -lalf an hour later he drew up in front >f the Castle house. Most of the windows were dark, rhe sidewalks on either side were leserted. He glanced at his watch. Miss Castle was not likely to appear :or ten or fifteen minutes yet, and te did not care to spend more time han necessary lying in the cramped position between the two folds of the top. He decided to remain seated at the wheel and enjoy a cigarette before lie climbed into his uncomfortable hiding place. “Hello, Dale,” said a grim, lowpitched voice. „ Dale started. A sharp quiver of apprehension ran through him. A short, stocky, curiously soft-footed man stepped out from the shadow ot a tree. Dale sprang from his seat. “Oh, you, Summers!” His voice was hard and gruff. “What do you want ?” Summers came closer, fixing Dale with alert, wary eyes. “You’ve sure travelled a queer course tonight. Dale. I tried to get the hang of it, but 1 couldn’t. Too deep for me!” “What do you want?” asked Dale again. “You’re under arrest —for murder,” said Summers.

CHAPTER XXI. “MURDER THIS TIME” “Murder?” gasped Dale, and before he could recover from liis astonishment his arms were seized by two powerful men in uniform who had come up behind Summers. For a moment or two he was too dumbfounded to protest or resist. In an instant his hands were manacled with steel links, and he was being led toward a car that was slowly coming up from the end of the block. The car stopped and two strong arms lifted him to a seat. A numbing daze seemed to have seized his mind and body. The car started with

a jerk and swung rapidly down the i broad avenue. The sudden start i threw his head against an obstruction * in the back, and the jolt seemed to ( shake his mind clear. A horrible thought came. Miss Castle! In a 1 few momehts she would start out on her adventure—alone! He sprang up, tore at the links that ‘ incapacitated his hands, and aimed a vigorous kick at one of the two officers seated on either side. In a moment he was roughly shoved back. He struggled fiercely, with a maddening fear torturing his brain, but his manacled hands were powerless against the combined strength of the two officers. Summers, seated beside the driver, turned his topheavy head and looked back. “It’s no use. Dale.” There was an old trace of gruff gentleness in his voice. Summers’s triumph was al lowed with just a grain of regret. “This is your finish and you might as well know it.” Dale’s mind worked with frantichaste. He realised that resistance would be worse than useless. If he could only stop Miss Castle before she went forth on her perilous mission! He tried to count the minutes that had elapsed since Summers emerged from the shadow of the tree. Kot more than ten. surely. There cnigl still be time. “Summers!” he cried hoarsely. ‘Stop the car! I must telephone!” The captain turned and shook his head. There was a reluctant grin Dn his lips. “No, Dale. I know Kour tricks. You have played too many. I’m not taking any more chances with you.” Dale writhed in torment. Frightful visions flashed through his mind. He could see Summers was adamant. He was suspicious of even such a simple request as the privelege to telephone. And no wonder. He had been surprised and humiliated too often. 1 a is was Dale’s punishment for the unmerciful jests and ingenious tricks he had played on the captain. But he tried again. “Listen. Summers! 1 simply must get a message to somebody. These officers can stand beside me. You can hold a gun against my back. But I must ” Summers shook his head. “No. Dale. You're not going to make a fool of me any more. You got away from me the other night. 1 was hold

ng a gun to you then, and there were wo officers watching you besides. Vet rou got away." “But it's a matter of life and leatb!” “So you say.” The captaiu shrugged tiis sturdy shoulders. Dale groaned. Moments charged with dire possibilities were flitting away. The old and ricketty car pursued its bumping progress through deserted streets. He racked his brain Cor an argument with which to impress Summers, but he could find none. They all rebounded against captain's suspicious attitude. “Summers," he began again. “Might as well give is up. Dale. I’m not going to let you pull any tricks on me. It’s murder this time.” “Murder?" Dale echoed the word in a stupefied tone. “I never killed anybody, but I’ll plead guilty to anything if you will give me one minute at a telephone." “Not one second—not until I get you inside four walls. * “But then it will be too late;" Dale cried in dismay. “Too bad." said Summers, with a shrug. Dale squirmed in a torment of despair. Adele Castle —Doctor Moffett —the lonely, sinister house in the woods. And he. Dale, unable to rais*» a hand against the evil contrivances! “What time is it now?” he asked hoarsely. Summers looked at his watch, and then he looked at Dale as if suspecting that even this simple question might be fraught with some subtle stratagem. “Two minutes to 11.’ tTo be continued tomorrow >