She had come prepared for such an emergency. The large roll of adhesive was put into use, sealing the man’s lips, and securing his hands and feet against his possible awakening, she quickly rolled the limp figure into a dark corner near a rickety fence to prevent early discovery.
FOR a full minute, Ellen paused, tense, brown eyes straining in the direction of the lighted window.
Her great orbs were agleam. Here was the work that she loved, and it was being performed in the cause that meant more to her than life itself.
Adventure was her meat and danger her dessert.
Gone were the hours of planning and fuming. Action loomed ahead on the danger trail! Ellen’s adventurous spirit leaped at the thought, confident, exultant!
Swiftly, yet noiseless as a night shadow, she gained the side of the window. A purr of voices came to her keen ears from within the building. A ragged shade was but partly drawn, and a view of the room was easily obtained.
Carefully avoiding the light which filtered through the panes, she looked within. She glimpsed three hooded figures seated at a table a few feet away. They were big fellows, but she could not see their features.
A rough table and several rickety chairs went to make up the furnishings of the bare room. There was a brown bottle and glasses on the table, and the men drank occasionally as they waited, conversing in low tones, inaudible to the watching girl. The Black Legion!
One man drinking more freely than the others, was quite audible to Ellen’s straining ears.
“Say, Chenville,” he bellowed, maudlinly, “why not get things going and get ’em over with? No use waitin’ on the others. Old Gorsh always was a slow poke. He’ll hold the others up, and we won’t get this job done before daylight! I’m for...”
The one addressed as Chenville interrupted with a wave of a gloved hand, but Ellen couldn’t make out his words. She imagined he was reasoning with the other man. The latter laughed raucously, and poured another drink which he tossed off at a gulp.
“Yeah?” he sneered, loudly, wiping his loose mouth with the back of a gloved hand. “That’s what you say, Chenville! But I say different. I think we could do with less politics in this outfit. I never did like politics or politicians! They can’t be trusted! And when it comes time to do a little job, or a little bump, it ought to be hurried along. Waitin’ is only invitin’ trouble to come along! Now take this snoopin’ Cathern mug. He’s been here for hours, waitin’ for Gorsh to arrive, and superintend the job. He oughta been taken care of hours ago.”
Ellen tensed in the darkness.
Her hunch had been right!
Paul Cathern was in the hands of these men, awaiting a fate she knew not what, and with no hope of rescue save through her own efforts!
And the man’s words confirmed her belief that the politicians of the state machine were behind the depredations of the notorious Black Legion!
She saw no point in waiting and listening to further disclosures. Time was speeding; any moment might be too late! She must locate Paul Cathern, save him, and at the same time keep her true identity from him. There was no time to lose if her plans were to be carried out with half a chance for ultimate success!
She tested the catch of her automatic, gripped it firmly, and moved silently through the darkness toward the other side of the house.
Obviously the thing to do was to get to Cathern as quickly as possible. She found the window on the right side of the house without difficulty, paused and listened intently. She could hear the ticking of her tiny baguette in the stillness of the night.
The little adventuress removed a compact folding jimmy from her wrist bag, opened it into a slender sliver of steel. With this handy implement, she began jimmying the window. Using utmost caution, it required several pries to snap the cast-iron fittings. With the fifth effort, they snapped brittlely, and Ellen slid the window upwards.
“Say!” she called in a sibilant whisper. “Is anyone there?”
A slight, muffled groan was the only answer, but it sent a quick thrill through Ellen’s soft body. At the moment, she realized just how alarmed she had really been about the young special investigator!
It was but the work of an instant for her to swing herself upon the sill, and agilely lower herself into the interior of the darkened room. Then, a pencil flash gave her a glimpse of the bare confines of Cathern’s prison, and of the sleuth, himself.
Paul Cathern was tightly bound, a handkerchief mask over the upper part of his face, his mouth tightly sealed by a wide strip of adhesives He had been tossed into a corner of the room to await torture and possible doom!
With a reassuring whisper, Ellen sank to her knees and labored at the cramping gyves. It required three minutes of concentrated effort to free his hands and feet, and a moment to remove the tape from his mouth. A word of thankfulness seeped from his lips as they were freed from the adhesive.
“You took a devil of a chance,” he whispered, grasping her arm, “in coming here like this. Those men were going to torture me — lash me — burn me with white-hot irons! I owe my life to you! I’m Paul Cathern, investigator with Sheriff Bonsill. Who’re you, anyhow?”
ELLEN hesitated, briefly. “No time for introductions now,” she snapped. “But I can assure you I’m a friend! We must move fast! Everything’s clear at the moment. Let’s go!”
Abruptly, the little adventuress tensed in the darkness. Her hand went to Cathern’s lips as she caught and held her breath. A chair had scraped within the adjoining room, and heavy footsteps were approaching the connecting door!
Her nerves jerked taut as a hand twisted the knob and swung the portal halfway open, yellow lamplight streaming across the rough flooring of the room! The automatic bristled viciously, as she aimed it at the doorway and waited!
“Get away from that door, Lucas!” snapped someone whom Ellen imagined to be the leader, Chenville. The intruder swung about to face the giver of the command, while Ellen’s heart churned, madly. Would the drunken brute ignore the other man, and enter to discover her in the act of freeing their prisoner? What mercy might she expect at his hands if he did?
The queries were answered a moment later when the fellow turned again toward the prison room.
“Aw, nuts, Chenville!” he flung back over his massive shoulder. “I’m goin’ to see if the snooper’s okay, that’s all!”
Ellen’s finger tightened upon the trigger, her heart sinking as the big man lunged forward through the doorway!
Chapter 4: A Framer Framed
A COOLNESS settled upon Ellen Patrick as she faced one of the most crucial situations of a lifetime of adventure.
Her lovely bosom rose and fell with her accelerated breathing beneath the black cape which she had tightly drawn about the white frock.
Great eyes were fixed in an unwinking stare upon the doorway. Her slender fingers trembled a little as they contacted the safety catch of the automatic to be sure it was down. She was prepared to shoot it out with the black-hooded devils, no matter what the ultimate outcome!
But the drink-drugged intruder was spared a quick end.
Chenville was evidently the man in charge, and a subordinate’s disregard of orders infuriated him. As Lucas came through the doorway, a heavy hand was clamped on his shoulder, and he was roughly jerked back into the other room.
A push sent the big man spinning across the floor.
“Damn you, Lucas!” snarled the leader, harshly.
“You’ll obey orders or take the consequences! I’m in charge here, and don’t forget it! One more funny move out of you, and you’ll get what Gorsh gives the others!” His outburst was cut short as he slammed the door behind him, leaving Ellen and the investigator in darkness again.
Ellen heaved an immense sigh of relief. “Whew! That was a bit too close for comfort!” she breathed, as she helped Paul Cathern to his feet.
“You said it!” agreed the sleuth, softly. “I thought for a moment we were goners. You’re one nervy little person.”
&n
bsp; Paul Cathern staggered and would have fallen but for her steadying arm, so cramped were his limbs from long hours beneath the bindings.
She helped him to the window, across the sill, and joined him a moment later. Outside, she leaned close to him, and he caught his first glimpse of her costume and the identifying mask.
“The Domino Lady!” he exclaimed, wonderingly.
“At your service!” she returned, evenly, her soft voice tempered to a lazy, disguising drawl for Cathern’s benefit. “And having a crack at the Black Legion, and its unscrupulous political backers! I’ve tried to help you, Paul Cathern; will you help me in return?”
“Name it!” he said, quickly, earnestly, “and the life you’ve saved will be risked in its accomplishment if necessary!”
She laughed softly in the darkness.
“The help I ask,” she said, “will bring about the downfall of the Black Legion and the complete ruin of the higher-ups in this state, Cathern! We must move fast! Come —”
Without another word. Ellen Patrick set out in the direction of the road, and Paul Cathern followed after her.
As the rear door of the sedan swung open, and Ellen’s pencil flash sprayed the interior with white light, Paul Cathern’s lips curved in a pleased grin. He stood for a moment looking down upon the bound figure of J. Riggs Saint without a hint of compassion in his gray eyes.
Then he shot a questioning glance at The Domino Lady.
“The Black Legion owes much to this man,” drawled Ellen in explanation. “He’s one of the higher-ups who provide protection! It’s my idea that he should pay as they have made other victims pay!”
“Just what is your idea?” whispered Cathern, meaningly.
Ellen laughed, liquidly. “Have you noticed the similarity in size and coloring between you and Saint?”
The investigator started. “You’re right!” he exclaimed, “though I’d never noticed it before! Just what —”
“They were going to torture you,” she interrupted, evenly, “and this scoundrel had assured them of immunity! What could be more appropriate than a quick switch of clothing, plant Saint in your place, and his brutes do as they will with him! By the way they looked tonight, I have a feeling that they’ll fail to recognize him. And J. Riggs Saint will get a sound flogging; a dose of his own medicine.”
The special investigator grinned. “All the way!” he cried, softly, “and then some! Let’s get busy!” He began peeling off his coat.
Ellen busied herself with the bulky briefcase she had taken from the politician.
By the dashlight, she gave its contents closer attention than before. She was astounded by the scope of damaging evidence it contained. Evidently the district attorney had been an active organizer and a charter member of the Black Legion in the state!
His intimate papers went into detail, mentioned prominent names, some of them political figures of highest power!
She turned at the sound of Cathern’s voice to find him garbed in the district attorney’s natty tweeds, his own rumpled worsted gracing the figure of the politician.
The latter was now conscious, and his eyes rolled in fear from one to the other of his captors. Cathern had again bound him, securely.
The tape prevented him from speaking, but he squirmed frantically about, struggling with his bonds.
The investigator bent, placed the handkerchief mask upon the upper part of the attorney’s face. Thus rigged, no one could possibly tell the politician from the young detective!
And, since the Legion usually bound and taped a masked prisoner before torturing him, it looked as though J. Riggs Saint was in for a dose of his own medicine!
IT WASN’T far to the window. Cathern was small but wiry, with spring steel rippling along shoulders and legs. He had no particular difficulty in lifting the flabby form of the district attorney to his shoulders. Guided by Ellen, he moved noiselessly toward the house with his burden.
Sounds of maudlin singing came from the lighted room as they hefted the figure over the sill, and into the interior of the prison. Evidently, the heavy drinking Lucas had reached a state of inebriation where song alone could express his feelings. Ellen was glad.
The sounds of their movements were masked completely by the off-key bellowing of the drunken Legionaries!
They placed the still squirming form of the politician in the exact spot where Paul Cathern had lain.
A moment later, they were again outside the building, the window closed. They hurried toward Saint’s sedan. Ellen would have liked to remain in the vicinity to witness the surprising denouement when Saint’s men discovered that their victim was the district attorney, himself, but the need for retreat was pressing.
Too much depended upon a quick return to the city, and safe disposal of the incriminating evidence to think of tarrying for the sake of pleasure!
So it was that she backed the car in a noiseless half circle, and allowed it to glide toward the distant concrete highway without engine power.
Once at a distance from the torture house, she throttled the engine to a steady, mile-eating pace, headed for the city.
There was little conversation between them as they hurtled along through the night. Ellen thought she understood why Paul Cathern was so quiet.
He was an employee of the sheriff’s office, and the Domino Lady was reputedly outside the law. She had saved his life, and he couldn’t very well question her or attempt to establish her identity!
He looked out of the window, away from her, his long fingers testing the toughness of a two-day growth of dark beard on his lean cheeks.
AS THEY crossed the city limits, and neared a cab stand, Ellen laughed swiftly, and slowed the sedan.
“Obviously, you must leave me here,” she told him in the assumed drawl, “since I must remove the mask before driving farther into the city. And I must ditch Riggs Saint’s car, you know! You should have no difficulty in getting a taxi to your apartment.”
For the first time in minutes, he looked at her, intently.
“Certainly!” he returned, quickly.
“I understand! But before we part, let me assure you of my undying gratitude for this night’s work! I’ve heard some pretty awful things about The Domino Lady in the past.”
She interrupted. “And you believed them, of course?”
Cathern grinned.
“Perhaps I did,” he admitted, “but never again! You’re aces with me! If I can ever help you in any way, please call upon me. I owe a lot to you.”
Again Ellen interrupted, as she drew the sedan to the curb.
“Forget it!”
And then, “It was all in the night’s work. I’m amply repaid if you’re convinced that I’m not the creature my enemies would have everyone believe. But there is one favor you can grant me, if you will.”
“Just name it!” he said, eagerly.
Ellen held out the briefcase to him.
“Take this,” she said, “and see that it gets into the right hands. It contains a lot of vital information which will help to break up the Black Legion in California. It contains dates, rituals and a complete list of political office holders who are secretly members of the clan.”
“But the credit?” interpolated Paul Cathern, soberly.
She gestured with gloved hands, briefly. “Who cares about that? It was only to defeat the political machine that I became interested. If you will take this evidence I’ll be more than satisfied. As an officer, the credit will set well on your shoulders.”
He had climbed from the car, briefcase in hand, but now he leaned through the window, and grasped her hand. Her red lips pursed a charming:
“Goodbye.”
“Till we meet?” he breathed, with an engaging grin.
“Quien sabe?”
She meshed the gears, rolled from the curb, pulling the domino from her round cheeks as soon as she was out of range of his vision. It was one o’clock when she parked the sedan, got out and walked away. Twice she looked behind her, fearf
ul that some prowl car might connect the abandoned Saint car with her. But her fears were groundless; the streets were deserted. A short time later, she had descended from a cab and entered the exclusive apartment house which she called home.
Chapter 5: The Domino Lady Triumphant
IT WAS evening of the following day when Ellen Patrick moved across the heavy Boukhara of her living room and opened the outside door. Paul Cathern entered the room He carried a folded newspaper, and he was grinning, widely. He took off his gray felt as he closed the door, then followed Ellen to the center of the room.
The powder-blue negligee she affected set off her shapely rounded body to perfection, and Cathern’s eyes were freighted with frank admiration as he followed the intoxicating undulations of her figure as she sank down upon a crimson chaise lounge. She smiled, motioned him to sit beside her.
“Suppose you give an account of yourself, big boy?” she said, pertly, brows arched in interrogation. “Haven’t seen you around.”
Paul Cathern had such an engaging grin, and it broadened to show his white teeth as he dropped down beside Ellen. He unfolded a late edition of the Express, handed it to her.
“Perhaps this will explain,” he said.
Ellen feigned complete amazement as she looked at the paper. Little sounds of excitement and pleasure escaped her ripe lips as she read the information emblazoned upon the front page:
BLACK LEGION DEFINITELY DOOMED!
Charter members fleeing after exposé by ace sleuth from sheriff’s office.
Indictments out for leading political figures;
J. Riggs Saint, District Attorney, is mysteriously missing!
June 7. Following a startling exposé of Black Legion activities in the state, by Paul Cathern, special investigator from Sheriff Bonsill’s office, indictments have been sworn out for some of the leading politicians, including J. Riggs Saint, District Attorney, and Leo U. Gorsh, State Representative.
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