WASHINGTON CRIME.

by Maxwell Grant.

CHAPTER I.

THE COURT-MARTIAL.

A SOLEMN group of army officers sat at a long table in a somber-walled room. Beyond them, broad windows showed the dome of the Washington capitol against a dull gray sky. Dusk was approaching; with it, proceedings were drawing to a close. These officers were engaged in the most serious of all military matters, a court-martial.

The Judge Advocate, a portly man of captain's rank, arose to summarize the case. He paused; looked toward the door, where a uniformed soldier was standing at attention, armed with a rifle. That door was opening.

Catching the Judge Advocate's gesture, the soldier swung about, bringing his rifle to port arms. With crosswise gun, he stopped the entry of a tall personage from the hallway.

The arrival spoke a pa.s.sword. The soldier about-faced; brought his rifle to order arms. Facing the officers at the table, he used his left hand to give the rifle salute. The Judge Advocate advanced to meet the tall arrival, who handed him a folded message. The officer opened it.

The note was from the White House. It ordered that the bearer, Mr. Lamont Cranston, be admitted to the court-martial proceedings. The order bore the signature of the President of the United States.

The Judge Advocate bowed the visitor to a chair; tendered him a copy of the early court proceedings. Others observed Cranston and studied the face of this mysterious stranger who had come direct from the White House. They saw an impa.s.sive, masklike countenance, its expression strangely hawkish. The features of Lamont Cranston impressed them. All present knew that Lamont Cranston must be some one of importance. None, however, guessed his actual ident.i.ty.

This stranger was The Shadow. Master investigator who could solve the greatest riddles of crime, he had been summoned to Washington to aid the government with the most vital problem that had ever concerned the defense of the nation. The whole case hinged on the proceedings of this court-martial, hence The Shadow had chosen to be present.

The Judge Advocate began a terse summary. Calm-faced in his guise of Cranston, The Shadow listened to the basic facts.

"YOU, Colonel Richard Follingsby" - the Judge Advocate looked toward a rawboned, thin-faced man, whose hands were tightly clasped - "stand accused of extreme negligence. You were entrusted with the keeping of the National Emergency Code, commonly known as the NEC. It was stolen from your apartment during your absence."

Colonel Follingsby was drearily nodding his admission. The Judge Advocate turned to a bulky man in uniform, whose shoulders showed the two stars of a major general. The Shadow recognized the bulky officer as General LouisDarson, acting chief of staff.

"We would like your testimony, General Darson," requested the Judge Advocate. "Kindly state just when and why you gave the NEC to Colonel Follingsby."

General Darson arose; cleared his throat with a gruff, important cough.

"The war department has faced great problems," he announced. "Every army post and naval base has reported attempts at espionage. Honolulu, the Ca.n.a.l Zone, Puerto Rico - from every quarter the reports have been the same. Arrests have been frequent. Evidence against the accused men has been difficult to obtain.

"One month ago, however, we were forced to the serious conclusion that every code commonly used in the military service was worthless. The navy had already discarded many of its codes as obsolete. The army was prepared to do the same. It was imperative that a master code be ready for immediate use in case of war.

"We had such a code. It was a comprehensive one, containing more than two hundred pages of typewritten symbols and key-words. That was the National Emergency Code, known to the service as the NEC. The only copy was in my possession."

General Darson paused dramatically. His eyes went to the huddled figure of Colonel Follingsby, who seemed shrunken in his civilian attire. There was pity in Darson's gaze. Plainly, he felt sympathy for Follingsby.

"Years ago," declared Darson, "I was a colonel in the Ca.n.a.l Zone.

Follingsby was a lieutenant in my regiment. I came to Washington to take a staff position. Follingsby remained in the Zone; he rose to the rank of colonel.

"I knew that Follingsby was a capable student of codes. The master copy of the National Emergency Code required revision before it could be secretly printed. So I retired Colonel Follingsby from active service and had him come to Washington. He has been living here as a civilian.

"Three days ago, I had secret service men bring Follingsby to the war department. There, alone in my office, I informed him of the master copy of the NEC, with instructions to revise it. I told him to await at his home; that the NEC would be delivered to him within an hour. Only Colonel Follingsby and myself could possibly have known that the code was in his possession. Four hours afterward, the colonel called me to state that the NEC had been stolen."

Finishing bluntly, General Darson sat down. The Judge Advocate called upon Colonel Follingsby to testify. Rising shakily, the colonel spoke in a dull tone.

"I WAS taken to the war department in a taxicab," said Follingsby. "It was driven by a secret service man. We went through an obscure doorway into a courtyard. I was conducted up a private stairway and found myself in the anteroom outside of General Darson's office.

"He told me about the National Emergency Code and said that I would receive it within an hour. The cab took me to my apartment. One hour later - at seven o'clock in the evening - a secret service man delivered the code at my apartment. He came there disguised as a postman and left the packet in my mail box.

"I worked on the code until nine o'clock. At that hour, I received a telephone call saying that my wife had been in an automobile accident and had been taken to a hospital at Alexandria, Virginia. I placed the code in a deskdrawer and hurried to Alexandria by taxi. When I arrived there, I learned that the telephone call was false. When I returned to my apartment" - Follingsby wavered, choking as he spoke - "the National Emergency Code was gone. The drawer was locked, as I had left it; but when I opened the drawer, it was empty."

The Judge Advocate reminded: "You had visitors, Colonel Follingsby."

"Yes," replied the colonel. "Senator Ross Releston and Major Frederick Bryland called at half past six. I talked privately with Senator Releston, in my study, for about ten minutes. I should specify that the visitors arrived half an hour after I had returned from the war department. They were gone twenty minutes before I received the National Emergency Code."

"You did not mention the NEC to Senator Releston?"

"Positively not. As for Major Bryland, I did not talk with him at all. He brought Senator Releston to see me; but Bryland remained alone in the living room, while I talked with the senator."

The Judge Advocate turned to a square-jawed man with deep-set eyes. The man was attired in civilian clothes.

"Frederick Bryland," droned the judge, "formerly a major in the United States army. Your testimony, please, Mr. Bryland."

The term "Mr. Bryland" was significant. Bryland was a man of some wealth who had chosen an army career. An inventive genius, Bryland had produced some valuable military devices; but his career had ended when he criticized the government's plans for coast defenses. Bryland had resigned "for the good of the service"; but it was generally known that he had been almost forced to give up his commission. He had offended persons high in the war department.

To Follingsby and other line officers, Bryland's criticisms had been fair ones. Living in retirement at an old mansion near Fairfax, Virginia, Bryland continued his military work.

Bryland's testimony was simple and emphatic. He had invented a new radio device for army planes. Because of past circ.u.mstances, he had taken the device to the navy department; and had been allowed to test the device on planes belonging to the marine corps.

Feeling that the war department might still be prejudiced against him, Bryland had gone to Senator Releston for advice. The senator had suggested that they visit various army officers, to ask if they would approve the tests. On the list was Colonel Follingsby. Bryland and Releston had merely stopped at his apartment on their way to the Army and Navy Club.

Senator Releston was the next witness. A man of rugged features, but mild expression, Releston was the symbol of dignity. His gray hair added to his appearance; and Releston spoke in a tone that showed sincerity. No man in all Washington possessed greater integrity than Senator Ross Releston.

The senator supported Bryland's testimony; he added that there had been no possible way of knowing that Colonel Follingsby was due to receive the National Emergency Code.

"Bryland and I were amazed, the next day," stated Releston, "when General Darson called us and asked us to visit his office. Bryland was enthusiastic, when he called me by telephone. He thought that the request pertained to his new invention. We went to the war department separately. There, General Darson gave us our first knowledge of the fact that Colonel Follingsby had received and lost the National Emergency Code."

THERE was a lull in the proceedings. Follingsby was finally called upon for further testimony. The trial officers, concerned chiefly with the questionof Follingsby's negligence, wanted to know more about the colonel's actions at the time of the fake telephone call.

"I was confused," admitted Follingsby. "I knew that my wife was on a motor trip with the wives of some other officers. I actually started from my apartment, forgetting all about the National Emergency Code. Then I went back, put the code in the desk drawer and locked it there."

"You are sure of that?" came the stern question. "Did you actually remember to put away the code?"

"Yes," responded Follingsby. "I forgot other things in my haste. For instance, my gold-headed cane, given to me by my regiment in the Ca.n.a.l Zone. I must have left it in the taxicab, while riding to Alexandria -"

The Judge Advocate interrupted. The matter of the cane was irrelevant in his opinion. General Darson asked the privilege of a statement. It was allowed.

"Colonel Follingsby left his cane in my anteroom," explained the chief of staff. "It was similar to the one that my regiment gave me; but the initials on the gold heads were different. I never carry my cane while in uniform hence I did not discover Follingsby's cane until to-day. I shall have it returned to him."

Further questions were put to Colonel Follingsby; by the time they were answered, dusk had settled in the trial room. Glowing lights of Washington appeared beyond the windows; evening life was coming to the nation's capital.

The presiding officer rapped an order for adjournment. The strokes of the gavel made Colonel Follingsby shudder as if he had heard his death knell. He could foresee that when the court-martial a.s.sembled again, its first business would be the giving of a verdict.

That verdict would be guilty. Dismissal from the service would be Follingsby's disgrace. Yet that, alone, was not the full cause of the colonel's misery. Over Follingsby hung the terrible knowledge that he had been responsible for an irreparable loss.

All that General Darson had stated was fact. Victimized by the vicious influence of conniving spies from foreign countries, the military defense of the United States was confronted by the most pressing situation in its history.

Army and navy alike had relied upon the National Emergency Code to meet a crisis.

Should the NEC fall into the hands of the wrong foreign power, that nation might easily choose to declare war upon the United States. American forces would be paralyzed; for the National Emergency Code contained every intricate system that had been secretly devised for military use. National calamity - if it came - would be blamed solely upon Colonel Follingsby.

There were serious faces on the men who left that somber room. All knew that the fate of Colonel Follingsby was trivial; that the national welfare was the cause at stake. Subtly, the trial officers had sought to ferret out some chance clues that would lead to the recovery of the National Emergency Code.

They were faced by the realization that they had utterly failed.

One listener, however had gained a vital fact. The Shadow's thin, masklike lips showed the slightest semblance of a smile. As witness to the court-martial proceedings, The Shadow had gained a fact that interested him.

Had he been called upon to name the man who had stolen the National Emergency Code, The Shadow could have done so. That, however, did not fit withThe Shadow's policy.

Knowing the ident.i.ty of the man who possessed the missing NEC, The Shadow was planning to regain the doc.u.ment intact. It was more important to secure those papers than to expose the criminal.

CHAPTER II.

A THIEF'S THRUST.

OUTSIDE the court-martial room, The Shadow shook hands with Senator Ross Releston. That was to be expected, because the senator had long known The Shadow as Lamont Cranston. In fact, The Shadow was quite sure that the senator was responsible for the president summoning him to Washington.

Though Senator Releston did not know that The Shadow traveled as Cranston, he had learned from experience that any facts given to Cranston eventually reached The Shadow. Since the recovery of the NEC was so vital to the whole country, it had been an urgent matter to get word to The Shadow.

The senator introduced his friend Cranston to ex-Major Frederick Bryland.

The three entered the senator's limousine. The Shadow remarked that he was stopping at the Hotel Halcyon, but could spend a short while at Releston's hotel, the Barlingham. Bryland asked to be let off at a parking lot where he had left his coupe.

"It's after six o'clock," remarked the former major. "I can reach Fairfax easily before seven. That will be in time for dinner. Of course, senator, I can stay in Washington, if you want to see me. I have a small apartment here, where I stay when the weather is bad."

"I doubt that there will be any new developments," returned Releston.

"Call me from your home later, Bryland."

Bryland dropped off at the parking lot. The limousine continued to the Barlingham. Soon, The Shadow and Releston were alone in the senator's extensive apartment. They chatted until a secretary appeared, bringing typed copies of the court-martial testimony, with the added proceedings of the afternoon. The Shadow put copies of the new pages with the ones that he had already received.

"Those must go to The Shadow," a.s.serted Releston, as soon as they were again alone. "That is important, Cranston. I hope that he will learn something from the testimony, although it seems to offer no clue to the whereabouts of the NEC. If he does gain facts, there is something else that he should know.

Agent F-3 is in Washington."

The Shadow pretended to be puzzled. He knew whom Releston meant by Agent F-3; but as Cranston, it was better to appear ignorant.

"Agent F-3 is a member of the secret service," explained Releston. "He is something of a mystery man, who spends his time abroad. To-day, I received word that Agent F-3 is in Washington. If The Shadow gains facts, he should cooperate with F-3."

The senator wrote an address on a slip of paper and gave it to The Shadow.

The address was that of a house on H Street.

"That address," said Releston, "is where The Shadow can find Agent F-3."

LEAVING Releston's, The Shadow went to the Hotel Halcyon. He had dinnerin the dining room; after that, he stopped at the check room and obtained a small bag that he had left there. He went up to the fourth floor and entered the two-room suite that he had taken in the name of Lamont Cranston. Pa.s.sing through the small living room, he left his bag in the bedroom.

Returning to the living room, The Shadow noted other bags; also the case of a portable typewriter. He had brought these with him when he had registered.

During his absence they had been disturbed. The person who had gone through the luggage could have learned nothing. All evidence that proved The Shadow's actual ident.i.ty was in the single bag that he had brought from the check room.

The Shadow looked across the living room. On the opposite side was the door to another bedroom, that could be added to the suite if three rooms were required. It was plain that the intruder could have come from that room.

Like The Shadow's bedroom, the other one probably had a doorway of its own to the hall. Picking locks would not have troubled the thief who had opened Follingsby's desk drawer.

The Shadow's portable typewriter was on a table. Tucked under the roller, The Shadow found a note typed on hotel stationery. It had been typed on The Shadow's own machine. The note stated: Be wise. Leave Washington. Call Senator Releston. Inform him that neither you - nor any one connected with you - will continue to search for the NEC.

Failure to heed this warning will mean death!

There was a telephone close by the entrance to The Shadow's bedroom. It had an extension cord of considerable length. The Shadow picked up the telephone, turned his back and jiggled the hook. He gave the number of Senator Releston's telephone.

Playing the part of Cranston, The Shadow paid no attention to the door on the far side of the living room. He paced nervously through the doorway of his own bedroom, carrying the telephone with him. He swung back toward the living room; stopped near the doorway and spoke quickly: "h.e.l.lo. Senator Releston's apartment?... This is Mr. Cranston... Yes, Lamont Cranston... Certainly, I wish to speak with the senator. Immediately!

It is urgent..."

While talking, The Shadow swung farther into the darkened bedroom. His voice told that he was not far beyond the connecting doorway; so did the taut extension cord to which the telephone was attached.

Ears heard The Shadow's voice; eyes saw the drawn cord. There was a result from the far corner of the living room.

The distant door connecting with the next suite opened. An angled figure came into view. Body crouched forward, but with shoulders erect, the intruder used a peculiar mode of stealth as he crept across the living room.

The lights of the living room revealed the approacher's face. The man from the next room was Frederick Bryland!

THE ex-major did not advance far. His position was a strategic one; near the middle of the room, he could go farther or retire as he chose. Bryland was waiting to hear the rest of The Shadow's conversation. His next move would depend upon what the supposed Cranston told Senator Releston.

There was a half-minute pause while Bryland waited; then the voice of Cranston, beyond the bedroom doorway. Bryland drew a big service revolver from his hip pocket, gestured the weapon forward. "h.e.l.lo, senator," he heard The Shadow say. "Yes, this is Cranston...

Calling from my hotel... No, I do not intend to leave for New York. I have received a threat. A note, here in my room. One moment I shall read it to you..."

Bryland was crouched no longer. With a long, swift bound, he reached the doorway to the bedroom. Stopping short, he twisted toward the darkened spot where he was sure The Shadow stood. Even while he swung, Bryland opened fire with his big six-shooter.

Those shots were murderous. They showed the efficiency of Bryland's army training. While on the move, Bryland had estimated the exact limit of the field where The Shadow would be. He covered that narrowed s.p.a.ce, seeking a hidden target, just as he had once picked out rebel snipers in the jungles of Nicaragua.