But that chance was fading now. Deacon was in the vicinity by this time, and he was the ideal man to check upon the situation. Major, Ferret, and Butcher had been told to take to cover for the rest of the night. But Deacon could saunter the streets of Middletown as he pleased. Thus the absence of a report was reassuring. Judge forgot his slight worries and devoted all his thoughts to the subject now under discussion.
In his mind's eye, Judge had pictured Deacon, methodical and unobtrusive, strolling about the block where the bank building was located. In this mental image, Judge was quite correct. Deacon was coming back from the downtown garage, where he had left the hearse driver. He passed the corner where the County National Bank loomed dreary and forlorn. He stopped to light a cigar outside the Middletown Trust Company.
His shrewd eye looked through the darkness toward the side entrance. His searching gaze was raised toward the upper windows of the banking room. All was quiet. Not a glimmer of light. Deacon strolled on; he came to the front of his own establishment, and observed that all was well. With no one in view, he sauntered to the side door through which he had instructed the others to leave. The door was locked. Deacon had thought of communicating with Major; but this proof was sufficient to satisfy him. One rule of the Five Chameleons was to avoid unnecessary communication. Tonight, of all nights, that rule was wise. Back in the street, Deacon cast another glance toward the silent building. Then he walked away, heading along the street toward the apartment house where he had a three-room suite. He pictured the events of this evening. Major had told him of the unknown menace called The Shadow. Together, they had wondered. While they had puzzled, Judge had prepared. He had been there to meet The Shadow — to end the menace with a single, well-timed shot.
The Shadow was dead! The big job was complete! The labors of the Five Chameleons had reached the desired climax! Deacon's close inspection had proved that all was well. The solemn-faced man was congratulating himself.
But Deacon had studied buildings, only. His keen eyes had ignored the ground beneath his feet. Back on the sidewalk in front of the undertaking establishment, lay a trail of evidence that he had overlooked.
A splotch of blood — another farther on — a third, glaring beneath the light of a street lamp, across from the undertaking parlor. A fourth — a fifth — a sixth then the trail ended. These marks traced the first stages of the path which The Shadow had followed.
Chapter XXI — The Symbol of the Shadow
Martha Delmar was alone again tonight. She had grown accustomed to loneliness. Since her life had been racked by grief, she had instinctively shunned companionship. Only once had she unburdened her troubled thoughts; last night, she had spoken to The Shadow, and had gained new hope from his strength.
The Shadow had gone; but his departure had left Martha Delmar confident that her new friend would succeed in unraveling the mystery that surrounded the death of her father and the arrest of Hubert Salisbury.
The Shadow had said that he would return. Martha wondered if he would visit her tonight. It was not yet midnight, and somehow, Martha connected that mystic hour with the spectral figure of The Shadow. She was determined to wait until long after twelve, in hope that he would come. Martha's intuition told her that deep plotting had occurred here in Middletown.