The Shadow - The Shadow Unmasks Part 9

CHAPTER XVI. HENSHEW'S VISITOR.

AT five the next afternoon, Clyde Burke visited Henshew's offices near Maiden Lane. His pretext for the trip was that he required some information for a feature story concerning famous crown jewels. Henshew was always willing to give interviews on such subjects.

It happened, however, that Henshew had left the office. Clyde explained the purpose of his visit; he stated that he would have to interview Henshew soon, as the feature story was needed.

By such tactics, Clyde learned that Henshew had left for Philadelphia on the four-o'clock express.

"Merely a trip down and back," explained Henshew's secretary. "A matter of a brief appraisal. Mr.

Henshew will probably return on the seven-o'clock train."

"Then he should be home by nine," calculated Clyde. "Perhaps I could see him there."

"Mr. Henshew never welcomes evening callers. It would be better if you made an appointment to come here tomorrow morning."

Clyde agreed that tomorrow morning would be soon enough. As he was about to leave the office, he pretended to remember something.

"I understood that I would meet Mr. Chanbury here," he remarked. "He said that he would wait for me. I suppose that he arrived too late to see Mr. Henshew?"

"Mr. Chanbury?"

The name puzzled the secretary. He looked up the records of the day's calls and finally discovered Chanbury's name. He informed that Chanbury had telephoned at half past three, just before Henshew left to catch his train. Since Chanbury had talked to Henshew, the latter had probably told him that he was leaving town; hence Chanbury had made no appointment.

That was the secretary's version of it. Clyde phoned Burbank, later, with the details; and the report reached The Shadow promptly. The Shadow knew the real reason for Chanbury's call to Henshew.

Chanbury had already known that the jewel broker was going to Philadelphia. Chanbury had telephoned simply to offer cash, instead of uncut diamonds, for Henshew's fine collection of gems.

It happened that The Shadow had a dinner engagement with Commissioner Weston at the Cobalt Club.

The Shadow was to appear there at six, as Kent Allard. Weston made a great show of introducing celebrities at the club, and he had probably arranged a large evening. Weston would be disappointed when Allard left soon after eight o'clock; but such would have to be the case.

Since Henshew was due back by nine, Allard could not stay at the club too late. As The Shadow, he intended to visit Henshew's apartment before the crook returned.

THERE was another person due for a disappointment. That was Clyde Burke. Weston had invited him to the club and Clyde had been highly pleased at the prospect of meeting Kent Allard again. Clyde lost his enthusiasm when he stopped at the Cla.s.sic office at five thirty.

There was a message requesting him to call the beauty shop of a Manhattan hotel. Clyde made the call; when he gave his name, he was told to hold the telephone. A few minutes later, he heard a girl's voice: "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Burke! This is Eleanor Merwood. Remember?"

Clyde did remember. In his recent visits to Chanbury's, he had discovered nothing of interest except Eleanor Merwood. Clyde had invited the girl to dinner and theater, any time she happened to be free.

She had agreed to call the Cla.s.sic office and inform him.

"I thought I'd hear from you last night," said Clyde. "Wasn't that your night off?"

"It was," replied Eleanor, "but I had to visit some relatives. This afternoon, at four o'clock, Mr. Chanbury decided he wouldn't need me any longer. So I came in town."

Clyde told Eleanor about the Cobalt Club dinner. It would be impossible for him to dine with the girl; and he probably wouldn't get away from Allard's reception until very late in the evening. Eleanor was disappointed; but said she could meet Clyde another time.

"I'll have dinner alone, and be home early," she said. "I can finish some work that I was putting off until tomorrow. I may have another free evening soon."

"By the way," remarked Clyde, "I was at Henshew's at five. I learned that Mr. Chanbury called there.

Was it anything that might mean news?"

"I don't know," replied Eleanor, frankly. "I called the number for Mr. Chanbury, but I was not in the room when he talked to Mr. Henshew."

THE dinner at the Cobalt Club proved a dull affair, attended by a quota of stuffed-s.h.i.+rt members, who asked Kent Allard useless questions regarding his experiences in Guatemala. Everything that they asked had been printed in the newspapers; and Clyde expected to see Allard show impatience.

Instead, the famous aviator maintained his usual calm and answered everything in concise fas.h.i.+on.

At eight-fifteen, Allard arose and gravely shook hands around the circle. He stated that he was returning to his hotel; and his decision was so emphatic that Weston could not even splutter an objection. Walking out to the foyer, Weston questioned: "When can we get together again, Allard?"

"In about an hour." Allard's lips showed a slight smile. "I have an appointment; after that, I shall be free at the hotel."

"Couldn't you come back here?"

"It might be too late. But you are welcome to call, commissioner." Returning to the banquet room, Weston met Clyde. He said to the reporter: "Stay around, Burke. We may drop in on Allard along about half past nine."

That ended Clyde's chance to call Eleanor and talk with her again; perhaps getting her to come in town in time for a late show. It also meant that Clyde was to scoop the city on another big news story.

HENSHEW'S apartment was only fifteen minutes from the Cobalt Club, and The Shadow headed there directly in Moe's cab, donning his cloak and hat while he rode.

After rolling slowly along the darkened rear street, Moe knew that his pa.s.senger was gone. Moe circled the block and parked in a convenient spot, to await The Shadow's return.

The cab was still there when Madden Henshew arrived home at ten minutes of nine, thanks to the fast schedule of the express from Philadelphia and a quick cab trip from Pennsylvania Station. Something unforeseen had delayed The Shadow in Henshew's apartment.

Moreover, for once, The Shadow was seemingly unwary. When Henshew unlocked the apartment door, he saw a flicker of light that repeated itself in the corner by the bookcase. It was the gleam of The Shadow's tiny flashlight.

Apparently, the intruder had not heard Henshew unlock the door; otherwise the light would not have glimmered twice. Softly, Henshew closed the door and sneaked through the outside hall. For once, the baldish crook had lost his confidence. He was feverish in his haste.

Henshew managed to fake an unruffled appearance when he went downstairs in the elevator. He spoke calmly to the doorman, when he said: "I forgot a package at the station. If any one calls while I am out, tell them to wait."

Reaching a store on the corner, Henshew was excited again. His fingers shook as he dialed a number. He was taking a long shot that he had reserved only in case of extreme emergency. He was making a direct telephone call to Shark's hide-out.

Shark's voice answered with disguised gruffness. With whispered pant, Henshew spoke his own name from the telephone booth. Shark asked the trouble.

"Some one in the apartment!" wheezed Henshew. "I don't know who it is - only I saw him searching there!"

"You saw him, huh?"

"I saw a light that he was using -"

"Then it wasn't The Shadow." Shark's growl was a confident one. "Whatta you want me to do? Take care of it the way we arranged?"

"If there's still time -"

"Don't worry. There will be. I'll handle the lug!"

Shark hung up abruptly. Henshew came sweating from the booth and started toward the street. He remembered that he had mentioned a package to the doorman. So he made some purchases in the drug store and had them wrapped in a large bundle. OUTSIDE, Henshew walked nervously around the block. He knew that Shark would arrive very soon, for the killer had s.h.i.+fted to a new hide-out. It was in a disreputable district that encroached upon big apartment houses quite close to Henshew's residence.

Henshew had not liked Shark's choice of a new hiding place; but his opinion had changed tonight. He knew, too, that Shark always kept a crew of triggermen close enough to be summoned without delay. By the time that Henshew had circled the block, he guessed that Shark was due.

Lugging his package, Henshew hurried along another block; saw a cab and boarded it. He rode to the apartment house, only a twenty-cent fare; but he handed the taxi driver a half dollar and told him to keep the change.

The doorman saw that Henshew's package was fairly heavy, so he offered to take it.

That suited Henshew. Fis.h.i.+ng for his apartment key, he asked the doorman to carry the package upstairs.

As they walked toward the elevator, Henshew saw that it was ten minutes after nine. The time suited him exactly.

Again, the master-crook's face was calm. He was ready for another of his daring games, one that he had long ago arranged in every detail, even though he had never expected to use it. This game would bring an alibi, the sort that would help. Henshew was almost glad that a prowler had entered his apartment.

There was another little matter that this episode might settle; one that had rankled Henshew ever since the afternoon, when Chanbury had called to offer cash instead of uncut diamonds. That new suggestion regarding the jewel purchase had made Henshew uncertain about how to manage the sale.

Matters would be different after the next half hour, decided Henshew; and he was right. Matters were to be far different, for both Madden Henshew and his murderous accomplice, Shark Meglo.

The present trap was like a spider web, set to enmesh a helpless fly. That web had gathered in a stinging hornet in the person of The Shadow.

CHAPTER XVII. VANISHED SPOILS.

SHARK MEGLO and his henchmen had reached the upper floor ahead of Henshew. They had come by that rear entrance that led to the stairway, a route unwatched by apartment house attendants, for the back door had a heavy latch. Shark had opened it with a key long ago provided by Henshew.

Shark had keys to the apartment, also. There were two doors - one from the main hallway, the other from a side corridor. The first opened into Henshew's living room; the second into a kitchenette. Shark was using both. He spoke final instructions to his trigger-men, at the spot where the corridors met.

"Get the lug that's in there," ordered Shark. "Bounce a gat off his konk and drag him along. We're taking him on a one-way ride! Whoever grabs the guy is to head out in a hurry. The rest of you heave stuff around the joint.

"Keep wrecking it until Henshew shows up with some of the monkeys that work here. Don't b.u.mp any of that bunch. Sock 'em and scram. Got it all straight? Let's go!"

Shark did not specify why he had given such odd instructions; but that did not bother his men. They never guessed that this raid was to polish off an unwanted intruder and cover up for Henshew. Shark's outfit took orders as they received them.

Half a dozen strong, the invaders deployed in two groups entering by living room and kitchenette. Theywere cautious as they moved, for they wanted to trap their victim unawares. They needed some token to make sure that he was still present, and they saw just what they wanted.

The Shadow's tiny flashlight was blinking along the middle row of books in the living room alcove. It did not show the person who held it. Shark, therefore, was more positive than ever that the intruder could not be The Shadow.

Shark restrained his men with a whisper. This victim would be easy; he was too concentrated on his search to know that enemies were closing in upon him.

The flashlight finally stopped near the end of a row of books. Its glow became fixed, s.h.i.+ning at an angle toward the volumes. Shark snapped the word: "Get him!"

Five thugs surged forward in a fanwise wall closing in upon their prey. All were eager to land the first slugging blow. As the thugs attacked, Shark pressed the light switch. In the glare, Shark saw his men drive up against the writing desk. Raised arms halted; the crowd broke.

No victim lay beneath them. One thug had jarred the writing desk; Shark saw a tiny flashlight topple to the floor. It had been resting there on the desk, to draw the attack; but its elusive owner was gone!

A STRONG laugh challenged from the corner - that same spot where The Shadow had kept from Tyrune's view only a night ago. s.h.i.+fting in the dark The Shadow had picked that vantage point. His mirth told his identify before eyes could mark him.

Chill mockery, a sardonic laugh that only one living being could hurl, was his token of defiance.

The Shadow!

Attackers were tricked. They knew it. Most duped of the lot was Shark Meglo, the leader who had a.s.sured his followers that they would find an easy victim. To Shark's ears, as to others, the source of The Shadow's laugh was indefinable. The mirth seemed to s.h.i.+ver from the very walls of this large room.

It was Shark, however, who first saw The Shadow. Maddened to desperation, the murderer spun viciously, his ugly eyes glittering in their search. Shark saw The Shadow; but not in time to act.

A streak of blackness, The Shadow was looming upon the killer, driving with terrific speed. Launched straight for the murderer, the cloaked avenger was bringing a gun muzzle to bear.

Had Shark tried to beat The Shadow to that shot, his attempt would have been suicide. In one stroke, The Shadow could end all battle; for Shark's crew would weaken with their leader's fall.

Shark did not try to fire. He was more yellow than The Shadow supposed. Shark made a wild dive away from The Shadow's gun muzzle, giving a hoa.r.s.e shout as he hit the floor.

Shark's crew heard; they whipped about to see The Shadow. Not guessing that Shark had yellowed, the mobbies were ready to deliver fire.

It was The Shadow's turn for a s.h.i.+ft of action. Halting, he sped his free hand to the light switch and pressed it. The room was blotted in an instant. The Shadow had whirled away when the trigger-men began their fire.

Amid the barks of wildly stabbing revolvers came the spurts of The Shadow's .45, pumping its deadlymetal. Darkness was The Shadow's entrenchment. He was everywhere, yet nowhere. Thugs were sinking, wounded; others thought they had located The Shadow. Revolvers boomed in unison, all in one direction.

As the echoes ended, a laugh sounded in the ears of the faltering killers. An instant later, The Shadow was sledging strokes to unprotected skulls, in the very midst of the cl.u.s.tered crew!

CROOKS broke. They dashed for the doorways, hoping that The Shadow's gun was empty. It was; but he was drawing a second weapon. He ripped new bullets after the fleeing horde. The few who escaped were lucky. Only two were able to reach the hallway; but there was one who had gone ahead of them.

That was Shark Meglo. He had taken flight through the kitchenette, during that last set-to in the darkness.

In the hallway, the pair of fleeing crooks bowled over Henshew and the doorman. They were headed for the open elevator; but the operator slammed it in their faces and they took to the stairs instead.

Henshew, playing the part of a frightened man, ran along the hall trying to open apartment doors; and the doorman followed him. Some one let them into an apartment.

All was quiet on the battle ground, except for the groans of crippled thugs who lay in Henshew's living room. Somewhere in the darkness moved The Shadow; but there was another who had suddenly chosen a lurking game. That was Shark Meglo.

The pair of routed hoodlums had torn past Shark before he could reach the stairway, for their route was shorter. When he reached the stairs, Shark stopped. A vicious look covered his long-jawed face.

So it was The Shadow, after all; and The Shadow thought that Shark was yellow. Whatever Shark's own estimate of himself, he saw advantage in the situation. The Shadow would be coming out from Henshew's, confident that no enemy remained. That was where The Shadow would be fooled. The Shadow would find no one; but some one would find The Shadow.

That some one would be Shark!

Crouched on the stairs, Shark waited, ready with his gun. He hadn't wasted a shot from that big weapon.

He would have six of them for The Shadow when that bullet-dodger came. With narrowed eyes, Shark watched from the stairs.

Those minutes in Henshew's apartment had been brief but rapid. The minutes that Shark waited were few, but interminably long.

In them, Shark could hear Henshew and the doorman coming out to investigate. Once they went into the apartment, The Shadow would move out. Shark grinned at the pleasant thought. There was only one way The Shadow could come, right now; that was from the kitchenette door.