The Star of Delhi s-225

by Maxwell Grant

  "At seven o'clock," Margo heard Cranston say, in an even undertone, "the sapphires will be removed in an armored truck. It will be dark at seven, and the truck will be the natural target for an attack. It might be well for someone to follow the truck."

  Margo nodded. She could think of someone perfectly qualified: namely, The Shadow. Hence, Cranston's next words rather surprised her.

  "Tacking an armored truck would be too difficult," he said indifferently. "There will be no trouble outside.

  It would be interesting, though, to know where the sapphires go. Suppose you stay around, Margo. Then you can follow the truck, and find out."

  STILL wondering if her ears were hearing right, Margo forgot to use her eyes. She was looking at Cranston, not at Dwig. But, in his turn, The Shadow was watching Dwig Brencott. He saw the sleek man turning away from the counter, about to leave Walder's store.

  Outside, accumulating dusk promised Dwig an easy departure. It also offered The Shadow an excellent chance to follow him; hence The Shadow's casual instructions to Margo.

  Before Margo could argue that trailing trucks was not her idea of a pleasant evening, Cranston strolled away as if the whole matter had been settled. It was then that Margo discovered the coincidental departure of Dwig Brencott, and understood.

  In giving her one trail, Lamont was taking up an earlier, and more difficult, one. He was following Dwig Brencott, on the chance that he might learn enough to stifle coming crime before it even began.

  In either event, whether crooks planned to move tonight or not, Margo's task of trailing the truck would be reduced to a matter of routine. Should any threat of actual danger arrive, The Shadow would be the one to accept it.

  Of course, Cranston had neither stated nor implied that fact. He had a way of treating The Shadow as a different personality than himself, even though Margo had long identified them as the same. It was just another proof of The Shadow's perfect tact.

  Considering how crooks were always gunning for the black-clad avenger who so often crossed their paths, it was wise policy for The Shadow to deny the Cranston link, even among friends.

  Proof of his sagacity was being evidenced outside of Walder's store, where Dwig Brencott, turning to walk along the avenue, was taking a shrewd backward glance into the jewelry house. Had Dwig even suspected that Cranston could be The Shadow, he might have noticed Margo's hawk-faced friend strolling out with others who were leaving the exhibit.

  As it was, Dwig simply classed them all as curiosity seekers who had seen enough of the sapphire display. The sleek man was on lookout for persons who might be detectives, and he was quite sure that none such had followed him from the store.

  In the back of his mind, perhaps, Dwig might have been looking for a stealthy figure clad in black, but the lighted doorway of the jewelry store could have offered no concealment, even for The Shadow.

  When such a figure did appear, he came from across the avenue, where Cranston had gone, unnoticed.

  Stepping into one door of a taxicab, Cranston had entered as himself, and come out the other side as The Shadow, all in a matter of mere seconds.

  He was on the west side of the avenue, where the buildings cut off the last rays of sunset. Under the shroud of dusk, The Shadow was gliding, unseen, from doorway to doorway, keeping pace with his quarry, Dwig Brencott.

  Cloaked in black, a slouch hat drawn down across his eyes, The Shadow wore the famous garb that enabled him to stalk an unsuspecting prey. With darkness on the increase, every minute was improving the conditions that the cloaked investigator needed in his present expedition.

  With nearly an hour until seven o'clock, The Shadow was confident that he could learn the essential details of any crime with which Dwig Brencott, might be concerned.

  That was why a whispered laugh came from The Shadow's hidden lips. It was a tone that presaged trouble for men of evil, the sort of trouble that The Shadow could provide. As bait for thieves, the six sapphires had come up to The Shadow's expectations. The rest would lie in his hands.

  Perhaps The Shadow's tone would have lacked the prophetic touch had he known the full story of the Star of Delhi and the six blue gems that Raymond Walder was exhibiting as the carved components of the famous sapphire.

  That story could have given The Shadow an index to the startling and unexpected turn that crime was to produce at seven o'clock; events that even The Shadow would not quite fathom when they came!

  CHAPTER III. CRIME IN REVERSE

  "AT seven o'clock, in front of Walder's."

  It was the fourth time that Dwig Brencott had given those simple instructions from the telephone booth near the cloakroom in the Club Cadiz, which was one of the night spots that Dwig frequented.

  Just past the cloakroom was a stairway, and under its shelter The Shadow was listening to Dwig's smooth-purred tone, hoping that he would specify further details; but Dwig didn't. Furthermore, The Shadow had encountered another handicap.

  From his listening post, he could hear Dwig's voice, but the clicks of the phone dial were not audible enough to be translated into numbers, a favorite trick of The Shadow's. Hence, when Dwig left the phone booth and went to the bar to get a drink, The Shadow had gained a rather frugal net result.

  He knew only that Dwig had called four men, all obviously tools of crime, instructing them to be outside Walder's at the time when the six sapphires were to be taken away. Perhaps those four would bring others; in any event, the thing fitted with The Shadow's previous calculation that Dwig intended to trail the truck that came for the sapphires, either to take a crack at its contents, or to learn the truck's destination.

  At the bar, Dwig was chatting with cronies and building up something of an alibi. He was telling them other places where he intended to go, even suggesting that some come along with him and make the round of the hot-spots. They were all promising to meet Dwig later, the very point for which he had been playing.

  Seven o'clock was drawing close. By then, Dwig would be gone from the Club Cadiz, for the build-up that he was giving indicated, to The Shadow, that the sleek man intended to be at Walder's, too.

  But Dwig was making it very easy for himself to drop out of the night-club picture for the half-hour between seven and seven-thirty, and yet have friends believe that he had been at one place or another all during that period.

  Gliding out through a little-used rear exit from the Club Cadiz, The Shadow paused near a darkened corner and blinked a tiny flashlight. Its rays were green, and the flashes caused a parked coupe to come in The Shadow's direction.

  The man at the wheel was Harry Vincent, one of The Shadow's capable secret agents. Sliding in beside him, The Shadow instructed Harry to drive over to the avenue and park near the corner beyond Walder's.

  The Shadow had a purpose in choosing that corner. He was certain that the truck would stop at the side door of the jewelry store, on a one-way street, where traffic headed toward the avenue.

  Since Dwig had ordered his men to be in front of Walder's, they wouldn't be in a position to attempt a robbery until after the truck was under way. Then, they would logically come from the avenue and swing in back of the truck, to follow it.

  As for making an attack before the jewels left the store, that would be sheer folly. Dwig had looked over the lay; certainly he knew how strongly Walder's was guarded.

  Crooks wouldn't get past the front door, if they tried to rush the guards and reach the sapphire display before anyone came for it. Besides, Dwig had specified seven o'clock, which wouldn't give him time to organize such a foolhardy attempt.

  SEVEN o'clock.

  The hour had arrived. From his vantage point, The Shadow looked back along the avenue and saw a car sliding into a parking space. Evidently, some of Dwig's men had come by car, while others were to join them on foot.

  Glancing down the side street The Shadow saw a small armored truck stopping at the delivery entrance.

  Men in uniform, coming from the truck were meeting others from the s
tore.

  At the front door of Walder Co, guards were moving the last patrons out. The last of the lot was Margo Lane, and a taxicab wheeled in to take her as a passenger. The driver of that cab was Moe Shrevnitz, another of The Shadow's secret agents. Margo wasn't surprised to see Moe's cab arrive. It usually showed up whenever Lamont Cranston delegated Margo to special missions.

  About to enter the cab, Margo paused, as though she had forgotten something. She had a chance to look back into the jewelry store. The place had cleared, and she saw Raymond Walder superintending the removal of the burglarproof display case that contained the rare star sapphires.

  With Walder were a few other jewelers, taking a last look at the much-prized gems. Though those privileged visitors had not handled the sapphires, they were quite convinced that the six stones had been cut from the famous Star of Delhi. To them, the word of Raymond Walder - that he had seen and examined the great sapphire itself - was as good as the gold which formed the rings in which the six gems were mounted.

  Margo stalled until she saw the case go out through the side door. From his observation point, The Shadow watched the rapid loading of the truck. Immediately, the armored vehicle moved forward and kept straight across the avenue, along the side street. By then, Moe's cab was under way. It took the corner and followed the truck.

  Harry was sliding the coupe into gear. The Shadow's gloved hand restrained the start that the agent was about to make.

  Next in order was to be the crook-manned car, and after it passed, The Shadow would follow it.

  Meanwhile, Moe would be dropping from the trail, for The Shadow had given him a red blink from the little flashlight when the cab swung past the coupe.

  With crooks on the truck's trail, as The Shadow expected them to be, Margo wouldn't be needed. That was why The Shadow had ordered Moe to come with the cab. Moe, or Shrevvy, as they often called him, would explain to Margo that The Shadow was taking over.

  Like all The Shadow's plans, this one was well laid, but it was destined to go astray. Dwig's car was starting and the Shadow gave Harry the word to go, but to let the other vehicle swing past him. Then, abruptly, thugs made a stop directly in front of Walder's.

  Before The Shadow could do more than reach for the door of the coupe, mobsters were out of their car and across the sidewalk, dashing into the jewelry store. There were six of them, all masked, and their leader was about the build of Dwig Brencott. The Shadow had time only to glimpse the masked crew before they disappeared inside the store.

  The whole thing was crazy. Dwig must certainly have seen the armored truck pull away; he surely knew that the sapphires were inside it. This was the unexpected point that The Shadow had in no wise anticipated. Dwig's thrust was an attack upon an empty nest, from which the wanted prizes had been removed!

  AT least, Dwig had accomplished one thing. Without knowing that The Shadow was on hand, he had beaten the black-cloaked fighter to his goal - which happened to be Walder's store, not the armored truck. Dwig had gained a margin of only a few dozen seconds, considering that he and his masked companions were at the store itself, whereas The Shadow was up at the corner ahead. But the time was enough for crooks to get in deadly work.

  Guards were gone from the front door, for, with the truck's departure, their duty was ended. Walder held the center of the floor, where he was shaking hands with the visiting jewelers. While there were still some guards in the place, they had gone beyond the counters to change from uniforms to other clothes.

  It was Raymond Walder who first saw the invasion and gave a frantic yell to his helpless friends. The other jewelers went ducking for the counters, easy targets for the guns that masked men brandished, had Dwig and his murderous pals wanted to shoot them down.

  But they were choosing one victim only, Raymond Walder, and he was even easier than the rest. For Walder, brave when confronted by the grueling test, was holding his ground, shouting for the guards to return and aid him against the attacking tribe.

  Six guns spoke almost as one. Walder took the bullets from that firing squad. Riddled by the close-range shots, the drab jeweler was dead before he struck the floor. Inspired by that show of courage, guards were springing across the counters, some still in uniform, others not, but all with guns that they had hurriedly snatched.

  Mobsters were ready for them too. The masked leader gave a snarl, that no one could have identified with the smooth, affable tone of Dwig Brencott. Wheeling like a well-trained team, the killers were taking point-blank aim, each at a different human target. They intended to blast the guards as they had finished Walder: to leave no one to hamper their retreat to safety.

  It was a moment made for murder, a triumph for these killers who had arrived ahead of The Shadow.

  But their very surety was to be the factor that would end their delivery of further doom. They had wasted a few vital seconds; those seconds were enough to ruin them.

  From the avenue door came a fierce, defiant challenge - the mockery that crimedom feared and hated; the tone that made deep-dyed crooks forget all other purposes and seek only to meet the taunter in a duel of death.

  The laugh of The Shadow!

  CHAPTER IV. HALF AN ANSWER

  DWIG BRENCOTT and his masked companions had staged crime in reverse, by attempting what seemed a robbery in a place where booty could no longer be obtained. To that reverse, The Shadow was adding another twist. Announcing himself with strident, mocking challenge he was inviting enemies to treat him as they had done Raymond Walder.

  The trouble was, they couldn't. Though they outnumbered The Shadow six to one, he held advantages which, taken separately, were slim, but added together made a total that Dwig and his pals failed to calculate.

  Foremost of those advantages were The Shadow's guns, a brace of automatics, already drawn, that began a pointed tattoo while crooks were on the whirl. Two of the masked men ended their spins in sprawls before they could pull their gun triggers.

  Others, too, were at a loss. In Walder, they had found a close-range target who hadn't tried to dive away from their guns. The Shadow was more distant, and crooks expected him to dive. They fired for the doorway, to get him when he tried to fade. But The Shadow's momentary twist was only a feint that came with the recoil of his automatics.

  Instead of whipping back through the doorway, he took a long lunge forward, striking almost flat, but catching himself on his elbows as he slid along the tiled floor of the jewelry store. Bullets whizzed above The Shadow's head, high by feet rather than inches, while from the floor level he used each .45 to blaze answers at his adversaries.

  The Shadow's shots were quick ones, calculated to make crooks dive, rather than to drop them; but he succeeded both ways. Dwig and two others managed to do a frantic duck, but The Shadow clipped the fourth man. Coming up from elbows to knees, he was ready for more target practice with the remaining three; but, by then, it was unneeded. The final factor had come into the game.

  The final factor: namely, the guards who only a few seconds earlier had been facing cold-blooded death.

  Not only had they rallied, they were right in the paths that Dwig and his two unwounded pals were taking to get away from The Shadow's fire. Two to one, the guards were pouncing on the hapless crooks, intending to suppress them.

  Unfortunately, the guards were too ardent, as the crooks had been with The Shadow. While Dwig and the other two were trying to wrest away in among the counters, and losing their guns in the attempt, the guards heard shots.

  Wounded men were supplying them from the floor, and the guards didn't wait for The Shadow to suppress those cripples. Instead, they turned to blaze away at the incapable marksmen.

  The Shadow cleared a counter in one long leap, his only way to escape the misguided fire that the vengeful guards supplied. Dwig and his two unscathed companions dashed for the front door, hoping only for a getaway, since they were gunless.

  Coming up from the counter, The Shadow aimed to stop them, but by then the guards were in the way
, closing in upon the wounded men that they had already riddled.

  One guard saw the three escaping crooks and yelled. The rest flooded toward the door, firing as they started, thereby ending The Shadow's last chance of inserting timely shots. Once hurried, the guards were even worse marksmen than the crooks.

  Two masked men went safely through the door while bullets were cracking show windows on each side.

  The third of the fleeing tribe - the nervy Dwig - actually made a pause in flight, to pick up a gun that a guard had kicked from the hand of a wounded thug.

  Speeding to the side door, The Shadow looked along the street, saw Dwig's car make a two-wheeled turn from the avenue. The guards, by then, were shooting from the front door of Walder's, and a single gun was answering from Dwig's car.

  Coolly, The Shadow aimed at the spurting weapon, intending to put Dwig out of action and therewith demoralize the escaping pair who accompanied him. Again, The Shadow was forced to stay a timely shot.

  Another car whipped around the corner. It was Harry's coupe, taking up the pursuit, and it cut right into The Shadow's path of aim. The two cars sped along the street, and The Shadow watched them dwindle to a distant corner while the noise of guns trailed back from both.

  The chase was far beyond The Shadow's range of fire when he saw Dwig's car swerve around another corner. There were flashes of tiny guns and Dwig's car was gone, while Harry's coupe kept ahead and climbed a curb. Still watching, The Shadow saw his agent come from the coupe and stoop beside it.

  Dwig's shot hadn't clipped Harry; it had taken a front tire instead. But it meant that Dwig was off in the clear, free to make his round of night clubs, while the two thugs with him could return to hide-aways.

  Sirens were sounding in front of Walder's, telling that police cars had arrived. With a gloomy departing laugh, The Shadow took his way into paths of darkness.

  JUST as Dwig Brencott moved in a fancier sphere than the ratty crooks who had helped him in a scheme of murder guised as robbery, so did The Shadow frequent places much more exclusive than the night spots that Dwig patronized.