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Show THEBlTO CHAPTER I The Shadow of the Bat "You've got to get Mm, boys get him or bust!" said a tired police chief, pounding a heavy fist on a table. The detectives he bellowed the words at looked at the floor. They had done their best and fulled. Failure meant "resignation" for the police chief, return re-turn to the hated work of pounding the pavements for them they knew It, and, knowing It, could summon no gesture ges-ture of bravado to answer their chiefs. Gunmen, thugs, hijackers, loft robbers, murderers, they could get thein all In time but they could not get the man he wauled. "Get him to h 1 with the expense I'll give you carte blanche hut get him!" said a haggard millionaire In the sedate Inner ollices of the best private detective firm In the country. The man on the other side of the desk, man-hunter extraordinary, old servant of government and state, sleuth-hound without a peer, threw up his hands In a gesture of odd hopelessness. "It Isn't the money, Mr. de Courey I'd give every cent I've made to get the man you want but I can't promise you results for the first time In my life." The conversation was ended. "Get him? Huh! I'll get him watch my smoke;" It was young ambition am-bition speaking In a certain set of rooms In Washington. Three days later young ambition lay in a New York gutter with a bullet in his heart and a look of such horror and surprise sur-prise on his dead face that even the ambulance doctor who found him felt shaken. "We've lost the most promising prom-ising man I've had in ten years," said his chief, when the news came in. He swore helplessly, "I n the luck !" "Get him get him get him get him !" From a thousand sources now the clamor arose press, police and public alike crying out for the capture of the master-criminal of a century lost voices hounding a specter down the alleyways of the wind. And still the meshes broke and the quarry slipped away before the hounds were well on the scent leaving behind a trail of shattered sifes and rifled jewel jew-el cases while ever the clamor rose higher to "Get him get him get " Get whom, in God's name get what? Beast, man or devil? A specter spec-ter a flying shadow the shadow of a Bat. From thieves' hangout to thieves' ' hangout the word passed along stirring stir-ring the underworld like the passage of an electric spark. There were bright stars and flashing comets In the world of crime but this new planet rose with the portent of an evil moon. The Bat they called him the Bat. Like a bat he chose the night hours for his work of rapine like a bat he .-truck and vanished, pounclngly, noiselessly like a bat he never showed himself to the face of the day. He'd never been In stir the bulls had never mugged him he didn't run with a mob he played a lone hand and fenced his stuff so that fcven Ikey the Fence couldn't swear he tpew his face. Most lone wolves had a 'moll, at any rate women were ther ruin but If the Bat had a mo'.. not even the grapevine telegraph could locate her. Rat-faced gunnvin In the dingy back rooms of spea.-easies muttered over his exploit- with bated breath. In tawdrily gorgeous apartments, where gathm-ed the larger figures, the pro-, pro-, co-Gsuls of the world of crime, cold, ' conscienceless brains dissected the work of a colder and swifter brain than theirs, with suave and bitter envy. Evil's Four Hundred chattered, discussed, debated sent out a thousand thou-sand invisible tentacles to clutch at a Viadow to turn this shadow and its distorted genius to their own ends. The tentacles recoiled, bafiled the Bat worked alone not even Evil's Four Hundred could bend him into a willing instrument to execute another's anoth-er's plan. Where official trailer and private Heuth had failed, the newspapers fight succeed or so thought the disillusioned dis-illusioned young men of the Fouth Estate the tireless foxes, nose-down on the trail of news the trackers who never gave up till that news was run to earth. Star-reporter, leg-man. cub. veteran gray in the trade one and all thev tried to pin the Bat like a caught butterflv to the front page of their respective Journals soon or lute each gave up, beaten, ne was news bigger big-ger news each week a thousand ticking tick-ing tvpewriters clicked his adventures the" brief, staccato recital of his career ca-reer in the "morgues" of the great dailies dai-lies grew longer and more Incredible each dav. But the big news the scoop cf the century the yearned-for . .in.,, v.ihhed Red-Handed," neauuue, - - - "Bat Slain in Gun-Duel VHtb Police still eluded the ravenous maw of the llnotvpes. And meanwhile the red-scored red-scored list of his felonies lengthened, and the rewards offered from various sources for any clue which might lead to his apprehension mounted and mounted till they totaled a small fortune. Columnists took him up-played with the name and the terror used the name and the terror as a starting-point starting-point from which t exhibit their own particular opinions on everything from the immortality of the soul to the merits mer-its of the Lucy Stone league. Minister, Minis-ter, mentioned him in sermons-cranks sermons-cranks wrote fanatic letters denouncing denounc-ing hi in as one or Che seven-needed beasts of the Apocalypse and a forerunner fore-runner of the end of the world-a popular revue put on a special Bat number wherein eighteen beautiful chorus-girls appeared masked and black-winged in costume of Brazilian bat-fur there were Bat club sandwiches; sand-wiches; Bat cigarettes and a new shade of silk hosiery called simply and succinctly "Bat." He became a fad a catchword a national figure. And j yet he was walking Death cold, remorseless. re-morseless. But death Itself has become be-come a toy of Publicity In these days of limelight and Jazz. A city editor, at lunch with a colleague, col-league, pulled at his cigarette and talked. "See that Sunday story we had on the Bat?" he said. "Pretty tidy hub and yet' we didn't have to play It up. It's an amazing list the Marshall jewels the Allison murder the mail-truck thing two hundred thousand he got out of that, all negotiable, nego-tiable, and two men dead. I wonder how many people he's really killed we made It six murders and nearly a million in loot didn't even have room for the small stuff but there must be more " His companion whistled. "And when is the Universe's Finest Newspaper going to burst forth with 'Bat Captured by Blade Reporter'?" he Inquired, sardonically. "Oh, for lay off of it, will you?" said the city editor, peevishly. "The Old Man's been hopping around about It for two months till everybody's plumb cuckoo. Even offered a bonus a big one and that shows how crazy he is he doesn't love a nickel any better than his right eye for any sort of exclusive story. Bonus huh !" and he crushed out his cigarette. "It won't be a Blade reporter that gets that bonus or any reporter. It'll be Sherlock Holmes from the spirit world." "But look here, Bill you don't mean to tell me he'll keep on getting away with It Indefinitely?" The editor frowned. "Confidentially I don't know," he said with a chuckle. "The situation's this: for the first time the super-crook the super-crook of fiction the kind that never makes a mistake has come to life real life. And it'll take a cleverer clev-erer man than any Central Office dick I've ever met to catch him !" "Then you don't think he's Just an ordinary crook with a lot of luck?" ."I do not." The editor was emphatic. em-phatic. "He's the Chapman type but he's brainier than Chapman. Got a ghastly sense of humor, too look at the way he leaves his calling card after every job a black-paper bat inside in-side the Marshall safe a bat drawn on the wall with a burnt match where he'd jimmied the Cedarburg bank a real bat, dead, tacked to the mantelpiece mantel-piece over poor old Allison's body. Oh, he's In a class by himself and I very much doubt If he was a crook at all for most of his life." "You mean?" "I mean this. The police have been combing the underworld for him I don't think he comes from there. I think they've got to look higher up in our world for a brilliant man with a kink in the brain. He may be a doctor, doc-tor, a lawyer, a merchant, honored In his community by day good line that. I'll use It some time and at night, a bloodthirsty assassin. Well that's our man." "But, Bill " "I know. I've been going around the last month, looking at everybody I knew and thinking are you the Bat? Try it for a while you'll want to sleep with a light In your room after a few days of it Look around the The Super-Crook of Fiction. Cnlversity club that white-haired man over there dignified respectable Is he the Bat? Your own lawyer your own doctor your own best friend. Can happen, you know look at those Chicago boys the thrill-killers. thrill-killers. Just brilliant students likable lik-able boys to the people that taught them and cold-blooded murderers, an the same." His companion laughed uncertainly. "How about you, Bill are you the Bat?" The editor smiled. "See," he said. "It's got you already. No I can prove an alibi the Bat's been laying off the city, recently taking a fling at some of the swell suburbs. Besides Be-sides I haven't the brains I'm free to admit it." He struggled Into his coat. "Well let's talk about soine- A Novel from the Play By Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood "It, Bat." copyright. 19:0. by Mary Robtrti Rinehart and Avwjr Hopwood. WNU Servlca thing else I'm sick of the Bat and his murders." Itis companion rose as well, but it was evident that the editor's theory had taken firm hold on his mind. As they went out the door together he recurred to the subject "Honestly, though. Bill were you serious really serious when you said you didn't know of a single detective with brains enough to trap this devil?" The editor paused In the doorway. "Serious enough," he said. "And yet there's one man I . don't know him myself but from what I've heard of him, he might be able but what's the use of speculating?" "I'd like to know, all the same," said the other, and laughed nervously. "We're moving out to the country nert week ourselves right in the Bat's new territory." "We-ell," said the editor, "you won't let It go any further? Of course it's just an Idea of mine but if the Bat ever came prowling around our place, the detective I'd try to get In touch with would be " He put his lips close to his companion's ear and whispered a name. The man whose name he whispered, oddly enough, was at that moment standing before his official superior in a quiet room not far away. Tall, reticently reti-cently good-looking and well, if inconspicuously incon-spicuously clothed and groomed, he by no means seemed the typical detective that the editor had spoken of so scornfully. He looked something like a college athlete who had kept up his training something like a pillar of one of the more sedate financial houses he could assume and discard a dozen manners in as many minutes, but, to the casual observer, the one thing certain about him would probably prob-ably seem his utter lack of connection with the seamier side of existence. The key to his real secret of life, however, how-ever, lay in his eyes. When In repose, as now, they were veiled and without unusual quality but they were the eyes of a man who can wait and a man who can strike. He stood perfectly easy before his chief for several moments before the latter looked up from his papers. "Well, Anderson," he said at last, looking up, "I got your report on the Wilhenry burglary this morning. I'll tell you this about It If you do a neater and quicker Job In the next ten years you can take this desk away from me I'll give it to you. As it is, your name's gone up for promotion to-dav to-dav vou deserved it long ago." "Thank you, sir," said the tall man, smiling and sitting down. He took a cigar and lit It. "That makes it easier, sir. Because I've come to ask a favor." "All right," said the chief, promptly. "Whatever it Is, it's granted." Anderson smiled again. "You'd better bet-ter hear what it is first,, sir. I don't want to put anything over on you." "Try it!" said the chief. "What is It vacation? Take as long as you like within reason you've earned It I'll put it through today." Anderson shook his head. "No, sir I don't want a vacation. I want to be assigned to a certain case that's all." The chiefs look grew searching "H'm," he said. "Well as Isay anything within reason. What case do yon want to be assigned to?" The muscles of Anderson's left hand tensed on the arm of his chair. He looked squarely at the chief, "i want a chance at the Bat!" he said, slowly. The chiefs face became expressionless. expression-less. "I said anything within reason," rea-son," he said, softly, regarding Andtr-son Andtr-son keenly. "I want a chance pt the Bat 1" repeated repeat-ed Anderson stubbornly. "If I've done good work so far I want s chance nt the Bat!" The chief drummed on 'he desk. Annoyance and surprise were In his voice when he spoke. "But look here, Anderson." he burst out finally. "A r..vthlr.g else and I'll but what's the use? I said a minute ago, you had brains but now, by Judas, I doubt itl If anyone else wanted a chance at the Bat I'd give It to them gladly I'm hard-boiled. But you're too valuable a man to be thrown away !" "I'm no more valuable than Went-worth Went-worth would have been." "Maybe not and look what happened hap-pened to him! A bullet-hole in his heart and thirty years of work that he might have done thrown away ! No, Anderson I've found two first-class men since I've been at this desk Wentworth and you. lie asked for his chance I gave it to him turned him over to the government and lost him. Good detectives aren't so plentiful that I can afford to lose vou both." "Wentworth was a friend of mine," said Anderson, softly. His knuckles were white dints in the hand that gripped the chair. "Ever since the Bat got him I've wanted my chance. Now my other work's cleaned up and I still want it." "But I still tell you " began the chief in tones of high exasperation. Then he stooped, and looked at his protege. There was silence for a tlrrj, "Oh, well " said the chief, finally. In a hopeless voice. "Go ahead commit com-mit suicide I'll send you a 'Gates Ajar' and a card 'Here lies a d n fool who would have been a great detective de-tective if he hadn't been so pigheaded.' pig-headed.' Go ahead!" Anderson rose. "Thank you, sir," he said In a deep voice. His eyes had light in them, now. "I can't thank you enough, sir." "Don't try," grumbled the chief. "If I weren't as much of a d n fool as you are, I wouldn't let you do it. And if I weren't so d n old, I'd go after the slippery devil myself and let you sit here and watch me get brought in with an Infernal paper bat pinned where my shield ought to be. The Bat's supernatural, Anderson you haven't a chance in the world but It does me good all the same to shake hands with a man with brains and nerve," and he solemnly wrung Anderson's Ander-son's hand In an iron grip. Anderson smiled. "The cagiest bat flies once too often," he said. "I'm not promising anything, chief, but " "Maybe," said the chief. "Now wait a minute keep your shirt on you're not going out bat hunting this minute, you know " "Sir? I thought I" "Well, you're not," said the chief, decidedly. "I've still some little respect re-spect for my own intelligence and It tells me to get all the work out of you I can, before you start wild-goose chasing after this this bat out of hell. The first time he's heard of again and it shouldn't be long from the fast way he works you're assigned to the case. That's understood. Till then, vou do what I tell you and it'll be work, believe me !" "All right, sir," Anderson laughed and turned to the door. "And thank you again." He went out. The door closed. The crief remained for some minutes looking look-ing at the door and shaking his head. "The best man I've had in years except Wentworth," he murmured to himself. "And throwing himself away to be killed by a cold-blooded devil that nothing human can catch." He turned back to his desk and his papers. But' for some minutes he j could not pay attention to the papers. j There was a shadow on them a shad- ! ow that blurred the typed letters the i shadow of bat's wings. CHAPTER II i I Miss Van Gorder ! Miss Cc-melia vVan Gorder, indomi-! indomi-! tnble spinster, last bearer of a name j which had been great in New York I when New York was a red-roofed j Nleuw Amsterdam and Peter Stuyve- sant a parvenu, sat propped up In bed In thegreen room of her newly rented country house, reading the morning newspaper. Patrician to her fingertips, finger-tips, independent to the roots of her hair, she preserved, at sixty-five, a humorous and quenchless curiosity In I regard to every side of life, which even the full and crowded years that already lay behind her had not entirely entire-ly satisfied. She was an Age and an Attitude, but she was more than that she had grown old without growing dull or losing touch with youth her face had the delicate strength of a fine cameo and her mild and youthful youth-ful heart preserved an Innocent zest for adventure. Wide travel, social leadership, the world of art and books, a dozen charities, chari-ties, an existence rich with diverse experience ex-perience all these she had enjoyed, energetically and to the full but she felt, with ingenuous vanity, that there were still sides to her character which even these had not brought to light As a little girl she had hesitated between be-tween wishing to be a locomotive engineer' en-gineer' or a famous bandit and when she had found, at seven, that the accV- Lizzie Could Go Hysterical Over a Creaking Door. dent of sex would probably debar her from either occupation, she had resolved, re-solved, fiercely, that some time before she died she would show the world in general and the Van Gorder clan In particular that a woman was quite as capable of- dangerous exploits as a man. She threw down the morning paper disgustedly. Here she was at sixty-five rich safe settled for the summer in a delightful country-place a good cook excellent servants beautiful gardens and grounds everything as respectable and comfortable as as a limousine! And out in the world people were murdering and robbing each other floating over Niagara falls in barrels rescuing children from burning houses taming tigers going to Africa to hunt gorillas doing-all doing-all sorts of exciting things! She could not float over Niagara falls in a barrel Lizzie Allen, her faithful old maid, would never let her! She could not go to Africa to hunt gorillas-Sally gorillas-Sally Ogden, her sister, would never let her hear the last of it. She could not even, as she certainly would If she were a man, try and track down this terrible creature, the Bat! She smiled disgustedly. Things came to her much too easily. Take this very house she was living in. Ten days ago she tad decided, on the spur of the moment, to take a place In the country for the summer. It was late in the renting season even the ordinary ordi-nary difficulties of finding a suitable spot would have added some spice to the quest but this Ideal place had practically fallen Into her lap, with no trouble or search at all. Court-leigh Court-leigh Fleming, president, of the Union bank, who had built the house on a scale of comfortable magnificence Courtlelgh Fleming had died suddenly In the West, when Miss Van Gorder was beginning her house-hunting. The day after his death her agent had called her up Richard Fleming, Courtleigh Fleming's nephew and heir, was anxious to rent the Fleminp house at once If she made a quick decision it was hers for the summer, at a bargain. Miss Van Gorder had decided de-cided at once she took an Innocent pleasure in bargains. The next day the keys were hers the servants engaged en-gaged to stay on within a week she had moved. All very pleasant and easy no doubt but adventure pooh ! And yet she could not really say that her move to the country had brought her no adventures at all. There had been things. Last night the lights had gone off unexpectedly, and Billy, the Japanese butler and handy-man, had said that he had seen a face at the kitchen window. Servants' nonsense, probably but the servants seemed unusually nervous for people who were used to the country. And Lizzie, of course, had sworn that she had seen a man trying to get up the stairs but Lizzie could grow hysterical hys-terical over a creaking door. Still It was queer I And what had that affable af-fable Doctor Wells said to her "I respect re-spect your courage, Miss Van Gorder Gor-der moving oit into the Bat's home country, you know !" She picked up the paper again there was a map of the scene of the Bat's most recent exploits and yes three of his recenl crimes had been within a twenty-mile radius of this very spot She th.'uglu It over and gave a little shudder ol pleasurable fear. Then she dismissed the thought with a shrug. No ehnnvei She might live In a lonely house, two miles from the railroad station, all summer long -end the Bat would never disturb hv -nothing ever did (TO BE CONTINUED.) |