The Shadow - Trail of Vengeance Part 8

Harry and Cliff had seen that happen before. They sat back calmly as Moe speeded up. Instructions were for Moe to cover this neighborhood, coming back to Gotham Place at intervals. He was to watch for blinks from The Shadow's guarded flashlight.

If none came, it would mean that The Shadow had entered March.e.l.l's house. In that case, Moe was to drop Harry and Cliff conveniently near, and continue to cruise until summoned.

Gliding back toward March.e.l.l's house, The Shadow expected to have quite a wait. The evening had just begun, and it would be too early for Timothy to appear, according to the way things had been planned the night before. Bert's presence was explained because he was supposed to be there first, so that he could see what luck Timothy had at getting into the house as Horace Trelger.

Nevertheless, The Shadow was allowing for impatience on Timothy's part, and the point was a wise one.

HARDLY had The Shadow picked his own spot of observation, before a stooped figure arrived from another corner, stalking in rapid style. Mounting March.e.l.l's steps, the newcomer paused to adjust a pair of gla.s.ses that he took from his pocket.

The Shadow saw Bert ease forward from across the way. The gla.s.ses were practically a signal from Timothy, who would need them to complete his impersonation of Trelger. As the stooped man turned, the heavy tortoise-sh.e.l.l rims formed conspicuous circles about his eyes. They did give him the owlish expression of Trelger.

A light appeared in response to the stooped man's ring. It was above the door and it allowed a view from within, through a little peephole. The eye that peered out was impressed enough by the face it saw to suppose that the visitor was Trelger. The door opened and the visitor was admitted.

Finis.h.i.+ng his sneak across the street, Bert crouched on the steps until the light went off. Still below the level of the peephole, Bert reached for the doork.n.o.b and tried it. A gratified hiss escaped his lips; itmeant that Timothy had done well.

This was the crux of tonight's game as the vengeance partners had planned it. Not only had Timothy promised to get into March.e.l.l's; he had a.s.sured Bert that he would leave the path open. Timothy had managed the task.

The door was not only unlocked, it was unlatched, as Bert discovered when he started to close it from the inside. Switching the latch, Bert closed the door, keeping his hand on the bolt key, to throw it as soon as the door went shut.

So intent was Bert, that he didn't bother to look outside. The street was very dark, and so were March.e.l.l's steps. It was doubtful that Bert would have seen anything, had he looked. Certainly, stirring darkness was the next thing to invisibility. And darkness was stirring just outside the closing door.

Bert hadn't heard the faint swish of a cloaked arrival, swooping up the steps behind him. As the door went shut, The Shadow's cloak was taking a final flip, and a portion of its flowing folds actually entered the doorway. The barrier closed on the cloak; there was a click from the latch, and a metallic thud as the bolt went home. Then The Shadow remained motionless.

He was listening at the door for Bert's receding footsteps. Detecting their fade, The Shadow twisted the hem of his cloak where it was caught in the doorway. It was thick enough at the latch, but not at the bolt, so he drew an arm from his cloak sleeve and thrust a metal wedge between the folds of cloth. The action proved sufficient.

The door hadn't latched at all, and it had locked only in trifling fas.h.i.+on. It opened at The Shadow's push, and once inside, he closed it behind him, leaving it unlatched, with the bolt wide. The way was thus kept open for Harry and Cliff, should they be needed.

Picking his way through a darkened hallway, The Shadow heard Bert groping ahead. An automatic drawn, The Shadow cut down the intervening distance in his silent style. He was confident that no harm could so far have come to March.e.l.l. It was Timothy's plan simply to bluff the man until Bert arrived.

When Bert appeared, things might prove different. Either Bert or Timothy might attempt some drastic action, should March.e.l.l show immediate fight.

It wasn't so much a question as to murderous inclination on the part of either man. Rather, Bert might find himself on a spot with March.e.l.l and be forced to action. Or, if Bert happened to be caught unawares, it would be up to Timothy, who, posing as Trelger, could in turn catch March.e.l.l off guard.

Hence The Shadow did not intend to lose a moment.

WHEN Bert reached a door where light trickled through the cracks, The Shadow was close enough to touch him. Bert found the k.n.o.b and thrust the door inward. His other hand, The Shadow saw, was in his coat pocket, probably gripping his gun. But Bert didn't draw the gun as he sprang into the room.

It wasn't necessary.

Two men saw him, and both looked scared. One was March.e.l.l, behind a desk in the corner of the little room. He was a man with a pinched, drawn face, that had all the nervous signs that Timothy had imitated.

There was no question that March.e.l.l's scare was real. He was directly in line with the door, and he saw Bert's pocketed hand. March.e.l.l's own hands were on the desk, unable to go for a gun, even if he had one. The other man, of course, appeared to be Trelger, though his manner p.r.o.nounced him an impostor.

March.e.l.l, however, did not know it. It wouldn't have been Trelger's normal way to cower, away from the light, at sight of a man who was threatening someone else. Nevertheless, the visitor did, and in so doing gave away something else that March.e.l.l didn't notice.

Bert saw it and held back his grin. He spied a hand creeping down into an overcoat pocket, and was quite sure that Timothy would be ready with his own gun, should occasion demand. More credit to Timothy for seating himself so that his right hand was hidden from March.e.l.l.

The stage was set for the next stroke of vengeance. How Bert Glendon would manage it was something to be decided on the ground. The measures that Bert had so far planned were all short of murder.

Should they reach that limit, Bert would know it, even before the time came. For Bert's coming actions were no longer to be guided either by Timothy's judgment or his own. A far more impartial mind than any of those in the room was ready to take command.

This situation, with all its purposes and angles, was under the control of that unseen master, The Shadow!

CHAPTER XV. SWIFT TRICKERY.

SIMON MARCh.e.l.l raised his thin hands very, very slowly, as though heavy weights were holding them back. All the way up, they trembled, until finally they stopped at shoulder level. March.e.l.l's eyes blinked rapidly, and his lips twitched so badly that he was unable to frame words, until, at last, he stammered: "You... you're Bert Glendon?"

"I am!" snapped Bert. "Don't tell me I resemble my uncle, because I don't. He listened to arguments from chaps like you, but I won't! I'm here to have my say-with results!"

Though he was talking to March.e.l.l, Bert included Timothy with a gesture, as an afterthought. He decided it would be a good idea, since Timothy was supposed to be Trelger.

March.e.l.l looked more scared than ever when he heard Bert's statement, but he managed to voice accusations.

"Then you're the man who took Trelger's funds!" exclaimed March.e.l.l. "And afterward"-shakily, March.e.l.l hesitated-"afterward, you killed Rayne and Wight, when you robbed them, too!"

Slowly, steadily, Bert shook his head.

"I did not rob Trelger," he declared firmly. "Nor did I kill Rayne or Wight. It would be a very simple matter for me to prove those facts, March.e.l.l, to your entire satisfaction. So rest a.s.sured that my purpose here is neither robbery nor murder."

From the darkness of the door, The Shadow watched Bert's profile, as well as March.e.l.l's full face. He didn't ignore the huddled figure in another chair that so closely resembled Trelger, gla.s.ses and all. But the main interest, at present, centered between Bert and March.e.l.l.

Bert had spoken convincingly, and the odd point was that his statements were substantially true. He was splitting hairs, and thereby intimating that he had taken no part in past crimes. Nevertheless, he could-if he so chose-present the proof that he mentioned. The proof was this: Bert hadn't actually robbed Trelger. The man who had was Timothy. It would be very easy to convince March.e.l.l on that point, because the hunted man would soon realize that Bert could not have impersonated Trelger, whereas Timothy might.

As for the death of Rayne and Wight, Timothy's confessions were in Bert's pocket. True, it was Bert, rather than Timothy, who had robbed both dead men; but by disclaiming murder, Bert was subtly side-stepping the other phase of crime.

Bert's present problem was that if he couldn't convince March.e.l.l, he'd have to show the evidence.

Though he knew that Timothy would stand for it, Bert didn't want to go to the extreme of producing the confessions.

So, instead, Bert played an even more subtle hand. Ignoring March.e.l.l, he turned about. Pretending that Timothy was actually Trelger, Bert spoke as he would to his uncle's false friend.

"Tell me, Trelger," demanded Bert. "Do you think that I could have pa.s.sed myself off as you?"

"No," came the wheezy answer. "I'm sure you couldn't."

"Very well. Do you agree that someone else robbed you?"

"I am sure it was someone else."

"And those murders-would you accuse me of them?"

"Absolutely not!"

Bert smiled, briefly, it being the only way in which he could commend Timothy. Turning to March.e.l.l, Bert saw that the other man was fully sold. A very neat idea, this, having Timothy, as Trelger, ready to support Bert's arguments, all toward the purpose of convincing March.e.l.l. The way was open wide for Bert's next process.

BREAKING into a tirade, Bert accused both Trelger and March.e.l.l of being swindlers, along with his uncle's other false friends, Rayne and Wight. He declared that they were the sort who would have many enemies, and therefore make themselves targets of crime. He wondered, in fact, how they managed to trust each other-a statement which made March.e.l.l wince.

Bert took it that March.e.l.l was thinking of the fact that he had trustingly admitted Trelger to the house. But The Shadow, watching March.e.l.l more narrowly, received the impression that something else was on the hunted man's mind. At length, Bert finished his outburst, and reduced his voice to a tone that sounded quite sincere.

"All that I seek is justice," Bert declared. "Amends for the wrongs done my uncle. Unfortunately, I was too slow." Deciding that he needed more support from Timothy, Bert stated a past case.

"Before I could even call to see you, Trelger, you were robbed," said Bert. "Then Rayne and Wight were not only robbed, but slain." Bert swung back to March.e.l.l. "That is why I sought you out, March.e.l.l! I want to save you from the fate that found the others!

"In swindling my uncle, you really stole his money. Ask Trelger, here, what happens to such funds. He knows, because he lost his, and is grateful only because he still has his life. Look, March.e.l.l: I'll offer you a way out. Give that money, and all like it, to charity and announce the fact publicly. Everything will be squared, and you will no longer be in danger." There was a ring to Bert's tone as he finished. He meant it for Timothy, more than for March.e.l.l. For Timothy's benefit, Bert was disclosing why he had held on to the spoils of the earlier robberies.

Had Bert given large sums to charity, even anonymously, March.e.l.l would have gained an inkling to the thing the moment that this deal was proposed. But March.e.l.l, at present, was actually believing himself to be the first of the swindlers approached by Bert.

Having thus a.s.sured Timothy, Bert expected some support, and it came promptly, in the tone of Trelger.

"It sounds fair to me, March.e.l.l," the wheezy voice declared. "Why not do as young Glendon suggests?

We shall both be glad to aid with our suggestions, once we know how much you have to donate."

For a moment, March.e.l.l nodded; then facial twitches revealed a change of thought.

"Suppose my funds are short," said March.e.l.l. "Suppose it should turn out that I am nearly bankrupt.

What then?"

"I am an old man, March.e.l.l. A very old man! Too old to be fooled by such chaff-"

"You would say that, Trelger! But did it ever occur to you that a swindler could be swindled? That one might trust another too far?"

"You mean to say, March.e.l.l, that you were tricked?"

"Yes! By a man we both know, Trelger! One who would trick you, too, if you gave him the chance.

Perhaps he knew he wouldn't have the chance, and therefore chose a shorter, quicker way. Perhaps he is the robber and the killer!"

Matters were getting beyond Bert's depth, and he could only hope that Timothy would handle them. If March.e.l.l's talk happened to be on the level, it was pointing directly to the fifth man, as yet unnamed by Timothy. To Bert's mind flashed the thought that the final member of the swindle crowd must be the one who had murdered his uncle!

Then Bert relaxed. Timothy was coming through in excellent style, though he was doing it as Trelger would.

From the doorway, The Shadow was no longer watching Bert. He was concerned with March.e.l.l, and the man whom the latter took for Trelger. In fact, it didn't matter whether the huddled man happened to be Trelger or Timothy. When he spoke, he said something that either would have said: "Show us the evidence, March.e.l.l. All the funds you have here. Let us decide whether or not someone has duped you."

"Very well, Trelger."

March.e.l.l lowered his hands. He reached to a desk drawer, opened it, and tossed out bundles of stocks and bonds, which scattered on the desk. March.e.l.l's whole manner was dejected, until he made his final reach.

This time, he produced a revolver, which he brandished across the desk, waving it from one man to the other.

"Get out, both of you!" stormed March.e.l.l. "You are working together on this! Smart of you, Glendon, to team up with Trelger! But I am too smart for both of you! THE SHADOW was wheeling in from the doorway. March.e.l.l didn't see the advance of living blackness.

The Shadow intended to swing around Bert, swoop upon March.e.l.l and take him over, gun and all, so suddenly that the others wouldn't realize what happened until it had.

Unfortunately, The Shadow was only halfway to his goal, when Bert saw a break and took it. Still storming, March.e.l.l was spitting the names Glendon and Trelger, waving his gun appropriately as he gave each.

He'd just spouted, "Glendon!" when Bert drove forward, knowing that the gun was going away from him.

Bert drove hard, drawing his own revolver, for he didn't want any harm to come to Timothy.

In fact, Bert was shouting back to Timothy, regardless of the danger that it might bring to himself.

"Get to the door!" called Bert. "It's your only chance-"

March.e.l.l interrupted with a jab of his gun across the desk. Bert tried to drop, but he wasn't in time. He saw the threatening gun spurt fire and wondered why its recoil was so sudden. Bert wondered, too, why the bullet hadn't reached him. Then he saw the reason.

A gloved fist had whipped through the air, to divert March.e.l.l's gun hand. Attached to that fist was a cloaked figure in black, that seemed to arrive from nowhere. In fact, The Shadow had arrived even more suddenly than he intended. Instead of rounding the desk, he cut his course short and darted in front of it, as the only way to save Bert's life.

With a deft twist, The Shadow sent March.e.l.l's gun dropping to the desk. He wheeled, and Bert gave a sudden shout, for The Shadow was aiming toward the door, which meant that he was taking Timothy next. Though Bert couldn't see what happened, he guessed that the butler had drawn a gun and was aiming March.e.l.l's way.

Probably Bert's cloaked rescuer thought that Timothy's aim was meant for him. After all, Timothy was here under false colors, while posing as Trelger. It didn't occur to Bert that The Shadow, too, might be able to distinguish Timothy from Trelger; that in the case of Timothy, he would probably fire a few wide shots, just to scare the butler off. Needs be, Bert must stop The Shadow's aim, and he did his best to do it.

Bert drove hard, only to be met by the side jab of The Shadow's elbow, that caught him in the chest and staggered him. A chair was in the way; otherwise, Bert would have sprawled too far away to reach The Shadow. His recoil halted, Bert grabbed at The Shadow's cloaked arm and caught it.

The Shadow threw his whole weight Bert's way. They hit the floor, cras.h.i.+ng the chair that came in their path. It was The Shadow's only way to get Bert out of trouble. Dealing with the others was The Shadow's business. He intended to handle them as soon as he disposed of Bert, which would have been very easy, had The Shadow been allowed a few seconds more.

He thought he would have those seconds, for he was aiming his own gun toward the door, defying shots from that direction. March.e.l.l's gun had fallen from the desk, and it would take the nervous man some time to find it, so all seemed well in that quarter.

But March.e.l.l wasn't looking for his gun. He was after something else, and he knew right where it was.

The thing was a switch under the corner of the desk.

March.e.l.l pressed the switch.

There was a buzz, and the floor between the desk and doorway opened squarely in the middle, atrapdoor dropping downward on quick-acting hinges. Two struggling fighters went plunging through that gap before they could halt themselves.

The Shadow was bound for blackened depths below, carrying Bert Glendon with him!

CHAPTER XVI. THE FINAL GOAL.

THE SHADOW made a genuine effort to prevent that plunge into the pitfall that Simon March.e.l.l had so cleverly included when he altered the old house. He released Bert's gun hand and tried to grab the edge of the trapdoor, but he missed it by a scant few inches.

As for Bert, he tried a different thing entirely. His gun loose, he fired as he fell, aiming up at the grimacing face of March.e.l.l showing across the desk that was still on the solid portion of the floor. Amid that hasty fire, March.e.l.l seemed to cave, for Bert could just see his shoulders slump.

Then Bert and The Shadow were through the trap entirely; it was flipping up on powerful hinges, and there were other things to think about. As usual, it was The Shadow who thought about them. He caught Bert with a twisty hold, which he hoped would break their fall.