The Shadow - The Death Sleep Part 15

"Grinning, eh?" gibed the big shot. "Well, it won't be so funny - that mug of yours - when they find you stretched out on a pile of tin cans in some Long Island dump."

"So that's where this place is located," parried Cliff. "I was wondering about that, Wolf. Thanks for the information. I'll know which way to head when I start back to town."

"Smart guy, eh?"

Cliff retained his grin. He knew that Wolf wanted to make him talk. The longer that Cliff could stall, the better. His best policy would be to side step all mention of The Shadow. Cliff, despite his predicament, had confidence in the infallibility of his mysterious chief. The Shadow had saved him from death in the past; there still might be hope for the present.

Wolf fumed oaths. He saw that he was getting nowhere. Cliff was ready to face death. He was different from the yellow welchers whom Wolf had cowed in the past. This fellow - the big shot realized it - was no ordinary gorilla. Tough on the surface, cowardly at heart: such was Wolf's a.n.a.lysis of the average mobsman. Cliff was not of that brand.

"If you talk," snarled the big shot, with a scowl, "there may be an out for you yet. Savvy? Spill the dope and I'll give you a break. If you don't, I'll have Spud and his crew use you for target practice -"

Wolf broke off suddenly. The outer door had opened. The big shot turned; so did Cliff. Wolf recognized the man who had arrived, but Cliff did not. Tall and dignified, the newcomer wore a suave smile on his lips. It was an expression, however, that Cliff did not like; for the smile was twisted. "h.e.l.lo, Doc," greeted Wolf, shortly. "This is the guy."

THE newcomer nodded. He closed the door partly, but left it slightly ajar. He had heard Wolf's final speech to Cliff. He motioned the big shot to one side; then took upon himself the task of quizzing The Shadow's agent.

"Your name is Marsland?" quizzed the tall arrival, studying Cliff with a shrewd, steely gaze. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seton Lagwood. Doctor Seton Lagwood."

Cliff stared in astonishment. Lagwood smiled in dry fas.h.i.+on.

"You are my guest," purred Lagwood, smoothly. "You have been confined in the cellar of my sanitarium, which is located on Long Island Sound. This portion of the establishment is kept well covered. The actual sanitarium is upstairs."

"A blind!" blurted Cliff.

"Precisely," agreed Lagwood. "This gentleman" - he indicated the whitecoated fellow - "is Mr. Carson. I should say Doctor Carson, for he bore that t.i.tle until he was disbarred for unethical practice. It was then that he took his place as resident physician in my underground hospital."

Cliff stared. Doctor Lagwood continued to smile. He knew that this open form of discussion would produce more results than a tirade of threats. Wolf looked on, half puzzled, half lost in admiration of Lagwood's suavity.

"I have played a game," resumed the unmasked physician. "So have you" - Lagwood paused to eye Cliff with a glittering gaze - "and in order to be fair as well as impartial, I shall sketch my activities for a beginning.

"I have known Wolf Barlan ever since his racketeering days. This underground hospital was used for treatment of convalescent gangsters. Then that game ended. I resumed my ethical practice; but I still maintained this hidden establishment."

"I gained a reputation for the treatment of paralytics and victims of trance conditions. Because of that, I was approached by a chemist named Troxton Valdan. He had devised a gas that induced that strange condition which has been termed the death sleep.

"Valdan and I met secretly. He brought me guinea pigs that he had ga.s.sed. He wanted my opinion of the efficacy of the gas before he took it to the War Department at Was.h.i.+ngton. Valdan was indiscreet. He mentioned that he had a supply of gas bombs in his laboratory and that file one hundred and eleven contained two formulas: one for the gas, the other for the neutralizer."

The physician paused. He saw that Cliff was drinking in these revelations. This pleased Lagwood. He resumed.

"I contacted with Wolf Barlan," declared Lagwood. "Valdan was to meet me in Providence. While the chemist was away, Wolf operated through Spud Claxter. Henchmen stole the gas and the formulas. The bombs went to the hideout. The formulas came to me from Wolf. The gas was tested on Seth Tanning and the persons in his apartment. It proved its merits. Tanning's place was chosen because of its proximity to the Talleyrand Hospital.

"When Valdan returned, he was murdered by one of Spud's minions. Guinea pigs in the laboratory nearly gave the police a clue to the gas. I diverted their suspicions. Meanwhile, I had a pharmacist make up the neutralizer, supposedly for a vapor treatment. Spud sent a man to steal it. "Then" - Lagwood paused and resumed in a cold tone - "then came crime. With it, The Shadow. Your friend, Luke Gonrey, was wounded, along with another mobsman. Spud reported it to Wolf, who called me in turn. I said to bring the men here and let Carson take care of them. When you and four others were found paralyzed in the hideout, this was the logical place to bring you. But" - again Lagwood paused - "you made the mistake of recovering too soon. That fact, coupled with your dopey condition, proved that you had not been ga.s.sed. Carson called me at the hospital to inform me of his discovery."

LAGWOOD became silent. Chaotic thoughts were pa.s.sing through Cliff's brain. He saw the whole game. Lagwood had devised it and had left the work to Wolf. The big shot had hired Spud. Wolf also had other workers, unknown to Spud. They were men who spotted opportunity for crime. An inside man at Currian's; an inside man at Galder's. Yet Wolf, who managed crime, was but a tool for the man higher up. Doctor Seton Lagwood!

The physician had both formulas. More gas could be manufactured when needed. Lagwood had been crafty in the matter of the neutralizer. He had ordered it made by a pharmacist, as an experimental prescription. The green liquid had been stolen by Skeet, who knew nothing of Lagwood's connection with crime. Subtlety had been Lagwood's watchword!

"Tonight," remarked Lagwood, seeing that the time had come for further speech, "one of the death sleep victims died because he knew too much. I refer to a man who called himself Huring, who worked inside at Galder's.

"You, too, shall die if you prove dangerous. But not by the simple method that my friend Wolf has suggested. Suppose Marsland, that you should experience the death sleep. Two days of oblivion; then recovery. Just long enough to make you feel that life is good - that recovery. For promptly upon it, you would receive the death sleep once again.

"Think of it! Life worse than death! Up from beneath the surface long enough to gain respite; then submerged again. So on, for weeks, for months, for years. What would you do? I shall tell you. After a few periods of that sort, you would talk. You would tell your story as I have told mine. You would frankly give us full word concerning The Shadow.

"Why not confess and save yourself that dread existence? Do you wish to become a dead man who lives? Hardly. You have your opportunity to avoid the fate that I have outlined. You have served The Shadow. We can use you in our service. Take your choice: life or the death sleep."

Lagwood's tone had become almost hypnotic. Cliff was staring into the physician's cold eyes. He found himself yielding to the persuasive, purring words. It required an effort to break that spell.

"No!" challenged Cliff.

Lagwood made a gesture with his left hand. Carson stepped forward to take Cliff away. Wolf Barlan leered. Let Cliff be snowed under for forty-eight hours. Maybe the fellow would talk after that interval.

The big shot saw the merits of Lagwood's scheme. Wolf was gloating when he heard a sound from the outer door. He turned; the other followed his example.

THE loose door had swung open. There, cloaked in black was an ominous figure. The Shadow stood upon the threshold. Burning eyes glared from beneath the brim of his slouch hat. Automatics loomed from his gloved fists.

The men in the room stood silent. The Shadow's whispered laugh broke the stillness. There was meaning in the mirth. The Shadow had heard all that Doctor Seton Lagwood had said to Cliff Marsland. "Your confession, Lagwood," sneered The Shadow, "was unnecessary. I had divined the truth of your evil game. Two events, today, were the conclusive points. Your order for new neutralizer, to replace that which had been destroyed at my command. Your deliberate murder of the tool who called himself James Huring.

"I took no chances when I prepared my final stroke. I gave the police an inkling of your nefarious game.

They covered the hospital, while I came here. At either place, your apprehension was made certain. It has been my privilege to effect the capture."

As The Shadow's tones ended, Lagwood acted with sudden fury. Like a madman, the treacherous physician hurled himself forward toward the cloaked avenger. His spring was made with amazing swiftness. It left The Shadow but one course. An automatic barked. Lagwood's long hands clutched The Shadow's cloak; they lost their hold as the physician slumped to the floor.

Wolf and Carson had yanked gats, aiming for The Shadow. The second automatic thundered; its bullet found Wolf's heart before the big shot could discharge his revolver. At the same instant, Cliff Marsland, leaping in Carson's path, delivered a left hook to the man's jaw. As Wolf crumpled, Carson slumped.

Echoes died. Then the silence was broken, by the croaking voice of Seton Lagwood. Mortally wounded, the supercrook was gloating even though he faced death. His words were directed to the Shadow.

"You will die," was Lagwood's prophecy. "You are trapped. This house is surrounded. Those shots will bring Wolf's henchmen. You have no escape. For you" - Lagwood coughed - "for you, the death sleep - then - death itself."

The Shadow's cloak collar fell to reveal a gas mask beneath. Lagwood stared with blurred eyes as the cloaked avenger brought forth a second mask and pa.s.sed it to Cliff Marsland. Yet Lagwood managed another chuckle as Cliff donned the device.

"They are coming" - footsteps echoing from stony corridors proved the statement - "and you have no retreat. You may avoid the death sleep - but death - will be - yours."

Lagwood lay gasping, his life almost ended. The Shadow's cloak collar moved up under pressure of his hand. The gas mask was hidden. Whirling, The Shadow, swung to the outer door. His gesture warned Cliff not to follow. Then, with a shuddering laugh, The Shadow opened the barrier and stepped into the vaulted room outside.

LAGWOOD was right. The place was a trap. Stepping into full view, The Shadow was covered from three corridors. Each pa.s.sage contained four mobsters. All held revolvers. Superfighter though The Shadow was, the situation offered impossible odds. Yet The Shadow laughed.

Someone barked an order. It was Spud Claxter. He and all his new mobsmen wore gas masks, as Lagwood had predicted. Spud did not know The Shadow was also masked. As he gave the word to fire, the mobleader performed the first action - one that he believed would a.s.sure The Shadow's doom.

He hurled a pineapple.

The bomb burst at The Shadow's feet. Its greenish vapor spread on the instant, filling the room, sweeping into the corridors. Cliff saw the cloud; he knew that it would be the target for the gunmen. He expected quick shots from the automatics and replies from the revolvers that gorilla's wielded.

Instead, there was silence. The green cloud cleared. The Shadow, moving forward, beckoned Cliff to follow. Amazed, Cliff obeyed. When he reached the big room, he stood astounded. In every corridor were rigid mobsters. They had toppled, to a man, overpowered by the death sleep before they had timeto launch a single bullet!

The Shadow strode through the central pa.s.sage, pus.h.i.+ng forms aside. Cliff followed and his brain found the answer to the climax. Cliff knew that the mobsters had gained a new supply of neutralizer; that they had stolen it from the same place as the first. He realized, of a sudden, that The Shadow had been there before them.

The Shadow had removed the fresh supply for his own use. In its place, he had subst.i.tuted an impotent liquid! The Shadow's mask - Cliff's mask - both were protection against the gas fumes. But Spud and the mobsmen were equipped with useless masks!

The Shadow had known that a bomb would come before the shots. He had counted on Spud chucking the pineapple. That was why The Shadow had stepped deliberately into the trap, ready to face the three-way odds that were against him!

They reached the outer air. The Shadow hissed. Cliff edged beside his chief, into darkness away from the building. Cars were arriving. Cliff heard the growled voice of Detective Joe Cardona. The police had followed The Shadow's tip. They were here to raid the fake sanitarium.

The Shadow led Cliff through the darkness, off toward his coupe, parked a hundred yards away. Men of the law did not hear that stealthy departure. They were entering the building. There they would find Seton Lagwood and Wolf Barlan, the team of supercrooks, dead in the lower office. Carson unconscious.

Spud and his mobsmen rigid in the death sleep.

BUT before then, they were to learn of The Shadow's presence. Joe Cardona, ordering his men into the sanitarium, stopped short as he heard the sudden roar of a motor. The lights of a car twinkled from among the trees. Then the automobile shot away.

Cardona was about to order prompt pursuit when the token came to his ears. It was the sound of a fading laugh, a trailing burst of triumphant mockery that died as the throb of the motor lessened. Cardona withheld his order. He knew the laugh of The Shadow.

More than that, Cardona knew that the way was clear. No need for caution any longer. Gruffly, the detective ordered his men to enter the silent building. For Joe Cardona knew that where The Shadow had been, no man of crime could linger except in death or helplessness.

THE END.