Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 026 - Murder Trail

VIP免费
2024-12-19 0 0 492.14KB 80 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
MURDER TRAIL
Maxwell Grant
This page copyright © 2002 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? CHAPTER I. THE STOWAWAY
? CHAPTER II. THE SHADOW OBSERVES
? CHAPTER III. MYSTERY SUPPRESSED
? CHAPTER IV. THE TRAIL
? CHAPTER V. IN THE SANCTUM
? CHAPTER VI. THE FALSE EMISSARY
? CHAPTER VII. THE MYSTERIOUS INVESTIGATOR
? CHAPTER VIII. IN THE UNDERWORLD
? CHAPTER IX. THE MEETING
? CHAPTER X. WORD FROM ABROAD
? CHAPTER XI. GANGSTERS START
? CHAPTER XII. ON THE WALL
? CHAPTER XIII. CRIX CALLS
? CHAPTER XIV. THE SHADOW AIDS
? CHAPTER XV. THE SHADOW HEARS
? CHAPTER XVI. THE ANTIDOTE
? CHAPTER XVII. MOBSMEN PREPARE
? CHAPTER XVIII. FARADAY'S VISITOR
? CHAPTER XIX. VENTURI EXPLAINS
? CHAPTER XX. ENTER CRIX
? CHAPTER XXI. CRIX DECREES
? CHAPTER XXII. THE SHADOW ANSWERS
? CHAPTER XXIII. JUSTICE PREVAILS
CHAPTER I. THE STOWAWAY
HEINRICH VON WERNDORFF, captain of the Munchen, was seated at the tiny desk in his cabin
aboard the mammoth dirigible. The big airship was resting in its hangar at Friedrichshafen. From the
window of the cabin, the captain could see the gloomy ground below, where occasional workmen
passed back and forth. This was the night before the air liner's scheduled voyage.
Captain von Werndorff was nervous. That was quite unusual. A veteran of numerous transatlantic flights,
now commander of the newest and most airworthy dirigible that had ever been constructed, there was no
apparent reason for Von Werndorff to be apprehensive.
Nevertheless, the captain's heavy-jowled face wore a serious expression that indicated anxiety.
A rap at the door of the cabin. Von Werndorff swung in his chair. In a low, guttural tone, he ordered the
visitor to come in. A young man, trim in uniform, entered and saluted with military procedure. This was
Lieutenant Fritz von Salzburg, second in command aboard the Munchen.
Von Werndorff watched while his subordinate closed the door of the cabin. The lieutenant approached
and leaned upon the table, to whisper these words close in the commander's ear:
"The man has arrived, Herr Captain."
"Where is he?" came Von Werndorff's tense question. "You are sure that no one has seen him?"
"He has been unobserved, Herr Captain. I met him at the appointed place. I brought him aboard the
dirigible. He is waiting in the corridor."
Von Werndorff gave a relieved sigh. With a kindly commendation that one would not have expected
from so stern an individual, he clapped his brawny hand upon the lieutenant's back, and spoke in a tone
that was almost fatherly.
"Excellent, Fritz," he said, "excellent! You will show the visitor in, and then leave the ship. Wait below,
and make sure that no one comes aboard. Above all, Fritz, remember -"
"My lips are closed, Herr Captain."
A FULL minute passed, while Captain von Werndorff drummed upon the table. Again, the door of the
cabin opened, and a short, heavy-set figure entered. This was the visitor—a man whose face could not
be seen within the huge collar of the coat which he was wearing.
The visor of a large cap was over the man's forehead; but when he saw that the captain sat alone, the
visitor threw aside the cap and turned down his collar. Von Werndorff, rising, stood with his huge bulk at
attention. His stern face was impassive, while his eyes gazed toward the solemn, haughty countenance of
the shorter man before him.
A quiet smile appeared upon the visitor's lips. The man motioned the commander to his chair, and took a
seat beside the table.
"All is prepared?" he questioned, in an even voice.
"Yes, your excellency," responded the captain.
"Good," said the visitor, in a tone of satisfaction. "I knew that I could rely upon you, Von Werndorff."
The commander bowed in acknowledgment. He had flown Zeppelins during the period of the War; and
this man had been his superior then. Captain von Werndorff was loyalty personified. He had not
forgotten.
"Baron Hugo von Tollsburg," the captain began a low-voiced statement, "I shall always obey your orders
-"
The visitor stopped Von Werndorff with an imperious gesture. He smiled wanly, and slowly shook his
head as the captain became silent.
"Baron von Tollsburg is no more," he said quietly. "The old regime is forgotten. Peace, not war, is my
mission to-day. I told you that, Von Werndorff, when I visited you months ago, at the time when this
great ship was in course of construction."
"I remember," nodded the commander.
"You promised then," resumed the visitor, "to make the arrangements that I requested. I relied upon
you—although I was not to see you until this night, the eve of your voyage to America. I am here,
captain. I am ready. Let us go; it is unwise to remain in this cabin."
Von Werndorff sprang to his feet. He opened the door of the cabin, and beckoned to the visitor. Von
Tollsburg followed him along the corridor. On each side of the narrow passage were doorways, and
here, in the gloom of lights set far apart, the great gondola of the dirigible seemed as cavernous as the
interior of an ocean steamship.
With accommodations for more than one hundred persons, the Munchen was an air liner of mammoth
dimensions, and Von Tollsburg, here for the first time, appreciated its great size to the full.
Captain von Werndorff stopped as he neared the end of the corridor. He was at a space where two
doors on the left stood a full six feet apart. The same was true on the right. This section of the ship bore
the appearance of a strengthening bulkhead.
The visitor watched in admiration as Captain von Werndorff drew a picklike instrument and ran it down
the crevice at one side of the space between the doors. A muffled click occurred. The metal wall swung
outward. The captain stood back and motioned his visitor to enter.
Von Tollsburg walked into a pitch-black room. The commander followed him; a click came, and the two
were confined within the bulkhead.
Captain von Werndorff ran his hand along the wall, and a tiny light suddenly gleamed. It illuminated the
room in which the two were standing. A small, windowless chamber, this was a secret room aboard the
dirigible—a spot that no one would possibly have suspected.
"THIS is the apartment, your excellency," said Von Werndorff, with a bow. "It is small; but I have spared
no pains to make it habitable."
He probed the farther wall with his pick. A small closet opened. Von Werndorff revealed shelves
stocked with canned goods.
"This serves two purposes," he explained. "It carries your supplies. It is also a ventilating shaft. Up
here"—he pointed to an opening at the side of the closet—"is communication with the berth in the wall.
Air is always there. Keep the closet door open during your waking hours—when you sleep, there is no
need of worry."
Then, stepping back, Von Werndorff pointed to the wall, and marked a crevice with his fingers.
"Two catches hold the berth," he explained. "You will find no difficulty in operating it. I promised, your
excellency, that you would be comfortable aboard my ship."
"A stowaway de luxe;" responded Von Tollsburg, with a smile.
"Exactly," acknowledged the commander.
"And as for America?" the visitor questioned.
"Our destination is Chicago," declared Von Werndorff. "Weather conditions should be perfect. We shall
arrive on schedule. I shall insist upon a thorough inspection of the ship for my own protection. After that,
your departure will be easy. I shall arrange all."
Hugo von Tollsburg extended his hand. The dirigible commander seized it warmly. The two men faced
each other as sworn friends.
"Von Werndorff," said the baron, in a tone that was low, but clear, "you have cooperated with me to
perfection. When I visited you months ago, and told you that I wished to travel to America unbeknown,
you agreed to my plan without question. You provided this secret place for my passage.
"I am ready for the voyage. I feel confident that all will occur as I have planned. These words are my
farewell. I shall not speak again. When we arrive in the United States, come to this cabin and announce
when the path is clear."
"I shall obey," responded the commander.
"Remember this," added Von Tollsburg. "No one must ever know that Hugo von Tollsburg was aboard
this airship. My mission is tremendously important. It must be preserved a secret. That is your only duty
now.
"Whatever may occur in the future is my affair alone. Not one bit of evidence should remain to indicate
that I came on board. You understand?"
"I understand."
"Should you need aid in removing me from this airship, rely only upon your trusted lieutenant; but give him
no word as to my identity. A great work is at stake, Von Werndorff. Secrecy is paramount."
"I shall never speak."
The interview was ended.
ALONE, Baron Hugo von Tollsburg breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel the draft of cool air coming
through the ventilator that connected with the opened closet.
He was a stowaway aboard the Munchen. To-morrow, the great airship would be crowded with
passengers for the transatlantic flight—and with them, hidden beyond all chance of discovery, would be a
mysterious stowaway, hiding in a secret chamber cunningly contrived for his reception.
Von Tollsburg drew a large envelope from the pocket of his coat. The man's firm face, impassive even to
the pointed tips of his military mustache, showed plainly as it came close to the light. From the envelope,
Von Tollsburg removed a stack of American currency and a sheaf of folded papers.
A stern smile flickered over Von Tollsburg's well-formed lips. The baron's cold, gray eyes made a careful
inspection of the articles from the envelope. With satisfaction, Von Tollsburg pocketed his possessions.
He closed the door of the hidden closet, and stood in the center of the secret room.
Completely isolated from the world without; protected by sound-proof walls, Baron Hugo von Tollsburg
was ready for the long and secret flight that would carry him, unheralded, halfway across the American
continent. Smuggled here by the captain of the Zeppelin, he was confident that he had reached the safety
zone in the mission that he had undertaken.
He did not dread the journey. Calm and unperturbed, he planned for sleep. He found the crevice that
indicated the berth in the wall, and inserted the pick. Catches clicked; the berth swung downward on
noiseless hinges, to reveal the blackened space that received its air from the ventilator shaft.
As Von Tollsburg leaned forward toward the berth, a low, guttural gasp came from his lips. His hands
shot upward in a mad effort to ward off unexpected danger. His body writhed furiously, casting long,
twisting shadows in the dim light of the secret cabin.
The gasp had ended unheard; in its place came a choking gargle that slowly toned away to a harsh rattle.
Half drawn into the blackness of the berth, Von Tollsburg's body became motionless. It moved
backward, as though impelled by an unseen force. It stood grotesquely, supported by a hidden grasp.
Then, released, it toppled and crumpled upon the floor.
Buried within the secret cabin, the form of Baron Hugo von Tollsburg lay inert and lifeless. The stowaway
aboard the dirigible Munchen had met with a cruel and unexpected fate. His mission had ended before
the flight had begun!
CHAPTER II. THE SHADOW OBSERVES
THE dirigible Munchen was nearing the last leg of its westward flight. Its huge bulk gliding onward, the
mammoth airship rode with marvelous stability. Purring motors kept up their constant rhythm. The
passengers in the forward salon smiled and chatted as the Zeppelin whirred through the night.
Dawn would arrive within a few hours. Gleaming rays of sunlight would show the silver queen of the air
entering the fringe of the Middle West. The Atlantic had been conquered; the rest of the voyage offered
no obstacles.
Captain Heinrich von Werndorff entered the salon. His arrival brought words of commendation from the
group of men who saw him. The commander bowed at the congratulations.
"We are experiencing great success," he declared. "This voyage, gentlemen, is a triumph for the dirigible
as a means of transportation. With our destination an inland city, instead of a seaport, we are proving the
advantages of air liners over ocean liners."
He caught the eye of a gentleman seated in a corner of the salon, and smiled as though in mutual
congratulation.
"You were fortunate, Herr Arnaud," said the captain. "Your last-minute arrival at Friedrichshafen enabled
you to join us on this memorable voyage. You came as a good omen."
All turned toward the man to whom the commander had spoken. Henry Arnaud had been regarded as an
unusual passenger on this flight. He had made reservation by wire from Moscow, and had reached the
Friedrichshafen hangar just as the Munchen was about to sail.
There was something about Henry Arnaud's appearance that commanded both respect and interest.
Although an American, he spoke fluently in French, German, and Russian, and had thus made an
acquaintance with passengers of those nationalities.
Captain von Werndorff was speaking in German as he addressed Arnaud; and the American replied in
the same language.
"The good omen on the Munchen," he said, in a quiet tone, "is the presence of our commander, Captain
von Werndorff."
A buzz of approval was the response to the compliment. Henry Arnaud, calm-faced and impassive in
demeanor, was a man who spoke with profound sincerity. His eyes, sharp and piercing, were gazing
toward Von Werndorff, and the commander noted the strange sparkle that came from them. Somehow,
he felt that those eyes had stared at him before.
THE passengers, now that the United States had been reached, were preparing to retire. They were
leaving the salon one by one; and Henry Arnaud was among the last to go. His eyes gave a parting glance
toward Von Werndorff; the commander, acting under impulse, reached forward and plucked the
American's sleeve.
"Herr Arnaud," he said, in German, "I do not recall having met you in the past; yet there is something in
your manner that indicates you have seen me before."
A slight smile played upon Arnaud's thin lips. The man's expression was sphinxlike. His burning eyes
gleamed upon Von Werndorff. The commander was amazed when Arnaud spoke.
"This is not my first voyage with you, captain," he said in a low voice. "I have seen you before; and then,
as now, I was aboard a ship of yours."
"You mean -"
"During the War, Herr Captain. You will recall"—Arnaud's eyes were sparkling—"a dirigible flight across
the North Sea, when a storm drove you back to Germany. That storm proved fortunate, Herr Captain;
fortunate for both of us. My mission was to see that the Zeppelin did not reach England."
"You were aboard the L-43!"
"Yes."
"As a member of the crew?"
"As a stowaway."
"As a stowaway!"
When he repeated Arnaud's words, Captain von Werndorff's face became momentarily pale. Perhaps it
was the memory of that eventful war flight over the North Sea; or was there another reason for the
commander's loss of color?
Henry Arnaud noted the captain's change of expression, and added a brief statement that might have
ordinarily been a simple explanation. As chance had it, the words brought a new and more singular turn
to Von Werndorff's complexion.
"Your superior came aboard the L-43," reminded Arnaud. "An aid accompanied him. The aid did not
leave. He became a stowaway. A simple ruse, Herr Captain, but it worked. It deceived both you and
your superior—Baron Hugo von Tollsburg."
It was the mention of this name that made Von Werndorff repress a gasp. Out of the past had come a
series of coincidences. This man had been a stowaway on the L-43. He had come aboard that ship with
Von Tollsburg.
Now, by a curious reversal of circumstances, Baron von Tollsburg was a stowaway on the Munchen,
while Henry Arnaud was the passenger!
Was there a connection here? Was Henry Arnaud a man whom Baron von Tollsburg sought to avoid?
Perplexities swept through the commander's brain; then he regained his poise as Henry Arnaud made a
quiet parting remark.
"I am glad to travel with you again, Herr Captain," said the American. "It is a pleasure to be a passenger
aboard your dirigible. Stowaways aboard Zeppelins once could have expected death if discovered. In
these times of peace, they receive reasonable treatment. It is preferable, however, to be a listed
passenger."
Arnaud extended his hand to Von Werndorff, and the dirigible commander received it. The American
turned and left the salon.
Von Werndorff remained thoughtful. With chin in hand, he did not realize that Arnaud's sharp gaze had
caught his immediate reaction.
IT was coincidence, Von Werndorff felt sure, that had brought this man aboard the Munchen as a
passenger. Arnaud's remarks could have been nothing more than a friendly revelation of the past. In this
surmise, the commander was correct.
But Von Werndorff made the mistake of discounting his own reactions. He did not realize that his stern
face, by its betrayal of emotions, had spoken to Henry Arnaud as effectively as if words had been
uttered. Here, above the United States, speeding toward the end of the oceanic flight, Henry Arnaud had
gained the remarkable suspicion that there was a mystery aboard this airship!
After he left the main salon, the commander of the Munchen still felt a trace of uneasiness. He went into
his cabin and consulted a passenger list. He learned the number of Henry Arnaud's cabin—28. Passing
along the narrow central corridor, Von Werndorff paused at the door which bore that number.
He satisfied himself that all was quiet within. Henry Arnaud had evidently retired.
With only a slight apprehension remaining, Von Werndorff continued along the corridor.
As he walked toward the rear of the great gondola, something happened behind him. The door of Henry
Arnaud's cabin opened, and a pair of gleaming eyes watched the commander's course.
Those eyes saw Captain von Werndorff pause beside a bulkhead on the left, and listen there intently.
When the commander came back along the corridor, Henry Arnaud was no longer watching him.
Smoothly, the Munchen plowed on through the night. Within Cabin 28, Henry Arnaud stood by the door,
listening. The cabin light clicked on; the American stooped above his berth. His form was suddenly lost
amid a shrouding robe of black. A few moments later, Henry Arnaud was gone; and in his place stood a
strange and fantastic being.
A tall, mysterious figure, garbed in black; this was the personage into which Henry Arnaud had
transformed himself. The folds of a sable-hued cloak enveloped his body; the broad brim of a dark
slouch hat obscured his visage. Henry Arnaud had become The Shadow!
A soft laugh that came from unseen lips announced the identity of the mysterious figure. The low tones of
that sinister mockery were inimitable. No other living person could have uttered them.
The Shadow, who hounded criminals of every land, had booked passage aboard the Munchen in his
adopted guise of Henry Arnaud. By chance, he had learned that Captain von Werndorff was harboring a
secret. He had divined the presence of a stowaway aboard this dirigible. He had aroused the
commander's apprehensions, and had caused Von Werndorff to visit the secret spot where the
stowaway was hidden.
Now, as a phantom shape, The Shadow was about to investigate the situation. With his penchant for
unraveling meshes of mystery, he intended to learn more of the matter which now concerned him. The
actions of the captain needed much explanation.
THE door of Cabin 28 began to open. Sharp eyes gleamed along the corridor. A black-gloved hand
appeared at the edge of the door. Then, the moving figure stopped, while the gleaming eyes remained
focused upon the distant bulkhead.
A metal panel was opening slowly outward. The Shadow watched the figure of a man step from the
secret cabin. The open panel obscured most of the man's body, and hid his face. His back turned as he
closed the panel behind him.
The man was carrying a compact package. He did not turn his face toward the spot where The Shadow
stood. Instead, he headed toward the rear of the corridor, only a few yards away, and, with a swift
stride, made a dash in that direction.
Scarcely had the man gone before The Shadow emerged from Cabin 28. With gliding motion he set forth
in pursuit of the fleeing man.
The destination was obvious. At the rear of the corridor was a stairway that led upward into the envelope
above the gondola. There were passages up there, beneath the balloonets; and among those passages,
The Shadow might trace the course that the man had taken.
It was chance that interfered. Before The Shadow had moved a dozen feet, the door of a cabin farther
down the corridor opened, and two officers of the Munchen came into view. Coming forward along the
narrow way, they would surely have encountered The Shadow, but for the quick action of the black-clad
figure.
With a turning sweep, The Shadow regained his cabin. The door closed as the officers tramped by. It
reopened, and even while the men were still walking forward in the corridor, The Shadow's amazing form
was sweeping toward the companionway at the rear, taking up the delayed pursuit.
A spectral mass of black, The Shadow arrived at the top of the companionway. Straight ahead lay the
walk that led to the rear of the dirigible. The interior of the tremendous envelope was a heavy bulk
above, with this passage, illuminated only by safety lights, running beneath.
The keen mind of The Shadow was at work. That brain had trained itself to measure time in split seconds
to gauge each passing event with absolute precision. The length of the passage within the envelope
proved clearly that the man who had emerged from the panel could not have gained its end in the short
time allowed him between his departure and The Shadow's swift pursuit.
A tiny light gleamed in a blackened fist. The Shadow was moving along the passage in the envelope, his
flashlight pointing out spots on either side. Here were hatchways in the lower surface of the
dirigible—places where goods could be taken in or unloaded. The Shadow's light stopped on the hatch
nearest to him.
The fastening of this opening was loose. Some one had opened the hinged door and left it loose after it
had swung shut. The Shadow's hands opened the light barrier. The blackened head and shoulders thrust
themselves through the opening.
The ground was more than a mile below. Tiny glimmering lights indicated the countryside. The flashing of
an air beacon showed the airway which the dirigible was following. The Shadow's keen eyes spotted that
intermittent signal.
Through those eyes, The Shadow gained a photographic impression of the ground beneath. In daytime,
the observation would have been difficult enough; at night, it was far more so. Yet, with the air beacon as
his guide, this strange observer was able to gain the exact location of the dirigible. The Shadow was
taking the position.
TOO late to overtake the man who had fled, The Shadow had gained full knowledge of the man's
purpose and action. Somewhere, now miles behind the dirigible, and thousands of feet below, a human
form was dropping to safety from the Munchen, with the broad surface of a parachute spread out above
him!
The Shadow's quarry had made a remarkable and well-planned escape from the moving dirigible. Of
passengers and crew, there was only one who had discovered the deed. That one was The Shadow!
No thought of pursuit engaged The Shadow as he made his way back along the passage toward the huge
main gondola. There was another task before him. The black-garbed shape flitted down the
companionway and entered the corridor of the gondola. It stopped before the secret panel.
Gloved fingers were at work, prying along the narrow crevice that marked the edge of the secret door. It
required less than a minute for The Shadow to discover the hidden mechanism. A click resounded as a
piece of metal entered the crack. The panel opened, and The Shadow stepped within. The door closed,
barely a second before footsteps came down the corridor. The officers were coming back along the
passage.
Half an hour passed. The first shafts of dawn, appearing over the horizon, brought a brilliant glint to the
silvery surface of the mighty German airship. Those first rays of daylight did not reach the windowless
central corridor. That passage was dependent upon the lights that glowed along its low ceiling. They were
the lights that showed the panel of the secret room reopening.
The form of The Shadow appeared in the corridor. The panel closed. The spectral shape was ghostly as
it made its rapid, silent way to the door of Cabin 28. The door of the cabin opened. The Shadow merged
with the gray dawn of the room within.
To-night, within the last hour of darkness, a murderer had left the Munchen to gain the safety of the
ground below. The dirigible had hours ahead before it reached Chicago. A thousand miles between the
Atlantic seaboard and the great metropolis of the Middle West! Somewhere, in that tremendous range,
the escaping man had dropped by parachute!
Well could that unknown man suppose that his flight would never be detected. No one could suspect the
time and place that he had chosen by random. Yet the fleeing man of crime had not reckoned with The
Shadow.
The Shadow knew!
CHAPTER III. MYSTERY SUPPRESSED
ANOTHER night had come. Moored to a gigantic mast at the Chicago airport, the dirigible Munchen
proudly flaunted itself as the newest conqueror of air and ocean.
The big Zeppelin had been here for hours. Passengers were gone; all formalities were ended. Captain
Heinrich von Werndorff, after a tremendous welcome, had returned to his quarters aboard the mighty
airship.
A tap at the door. Lieutenant von Salzburg entered. Captain Werndorff greeted him with a care-worn
smile. The lieutenant bore a message that was chiefly a reminder.
"Half an hour yet, Herr Captain," he said. "The banquet in your honor— they will be here to take you -"
Von Werndorff nodded. He arose from his desk and gripped the lieutenant's arm.
"Fritz"—Von Werndorff's tone was serious—"the corridor is empty?"
"Yes, Herr Captain."
"Remain here. I shall need you."
The dirigible commander left the cabin and went along the corridor to the secret door in the bulkhead. He
tapped softly, using the pick which he had brought from his pocket. There was no response. Von
Werndorff smiled. The baron would wait, of course, accepting this tapping merely as a warning of a visit.
Von Werndorff opened the secret panel. He found the room in darkness. Strange, he thought. Could
Baron von Tollsburg be sleeping? With impatient alarm, the captain found the switch and illuminated the
room.
He stared about him in amazement. The cabin was empty!
The closet door was closed; so was the berth at the side of the room. There was but one inference—that
Hugo von Tollsburg had decided to leave the dirigible of his own accord. Yet Von Werndorff could
scarcely accept that fact without the formality of an investigation.
He opened the berth, and it dropped down. Like the room, the berth was empty. It would have been
quite possible for a man to have been within that berth—to have closed it behind him—to have remained
there in hiding. For the berth connected with the ventilator shaft, and thus received air.
Von Werndorff closed the berth. He clicked the catch in the closet door, and opened the barrier.
It was then that Captain von Werndorff stepped back with a gasp of agony. As the little door swung
outward, a huddled form toppled with it.
Flattening itself grotesquely on the floor, the dead body of Baron Hugo von Tollsburg came into view! It
fell back upward; its livid face and bulging eyes stared, sightless, into the countenance of Captain
Heinrich von Werndorff. Murder!
A FIERCE cry came from Von Werndorff's throat. Here was the man he respected and obeyed, slain
within a secret hiding place, where safety had been guaranteed to him!
For long, miserable minutes, Von Werndorff stared into that dead face. At length the misery of the
tragedy dulled. Consternation seized the commander.
A man who gave the utmost attention to detail, Von Werndorff scarcely knew how to act. He had made
careful plans for Baron von Tollsburg to leave the airship with the lieutenant; now that these arrangements
were rendered useless by the baron's death, the captain was stunned.
Only the growing thirst for vengeance conquered other emotions. Gradually, Von Werndorff found
himself reviewing the events that might have brought death to the aristocratic stowaway.
Friedrichshafen. Von Werndorff was sure that no one had followed the baron aboard there. Who knew
of the secret compartment aboard the ship? Only the trusted workmen who had aided in its completion,
and their knowledge was not complete. Fritz von Salzburg, whom the commander knew could be
trusted. Otherwise, only Baron von Tollsburg and Von Werndorff himself.
Unless some one had come aboard beforehand, the entrance to this secret room must have taken place
while the dirigible was in flight between Germany and America. Only one man could be suspected. The
commander thought of Henry Arnaud.
摘要：

MURDERTRAILMaxwellGrantThispagecopyright©2002BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?CHAPTERI.THESTOWAWAY?CHAPTERII.THESHADOWOBSERVES?CHAPTERIII.MYSTERYSUPPRESSED?CHAPTERIV.THETRAIL?CHAPTERV.INTHESANCTUM?CHAPTERVI.THEFALSEEMISSARY?CHAPTERVII.THEMYSTERIOUSINVESTIGATOR?CHAPTERVIII.INTHEUNDERWORLD?CHA...

展开>> 收起<<
Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 026 - Murder Trail.pdf

共80页,预览16页

还剩页未读， 继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

相关推荐

更多
立即下载
分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：80 页 大小：492.14KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-19

开通VIP享超值会员特权

  • 多端同步记录
  • 高速下载文档
  • 免费文档工具
  • 分享文档赚钱
  • 每日登录抽奖
  • 优质衍生服务

作者详情

相关内容

更多

热门标签

人际关系 配电装置 动力学连接体 力的合成 高考理综 全宋诗作者索引 公务员考试
/ 80
评分 收藏
分享
立即下载 VIP免费下载
客服
关注