The Shadow's Shadow s-23

by Maxwell Grant

  "Why should I tell what I know?" questioned Zubian. "It is my own knowledge. Do not worry about your secret. Consider it still unknown. At the same time, it makes matters much simpler. To-morrow night, we will succeed despite The Shadow."

  "How?" questioned Carleton.

  "The Shadow," remarked Zubian, "is extremely clever—and amazingly capable. He has one failing, however. He cannot be in two places at once."

  "I grant that," retorted Carleton, thinking that Zubian was joking, "but what does that have to do with us?"

  "Much," said Zubian decisively. "Whether or not The Shadow knows our game, he is at least aware that a valuable collection of uncut diamonds reposes in the massive safe of the United Diamond Syndicate.

  Therefore, he knows that certain men of crime might be interested in making an attack upon the syndicate office."

  "That is the trouble," said Carleton.

  "On the contrary," corrected Zubian, "it is the very factor that will enable us to acquire the diamonds."

  "I do not understand," protested Carleton.

  "It is simple enough," said Zubian, with a laugh. "To-morrow night, at half past nine, we will open a raid upon the syndicate office. We will send Gats Hackett and his men to blow the safe and to cut down all opposition, in a mad endeavor to obtain the diamonds."

  "But the diamonds will not be there," objected Carleton. "They will be up at Devaux's -"

  "Of course," interposed Zubian, "but who will know it? Do you suppose that Milbrook will advertise the fact that two million dollars' worth of stones are at large?"

  "Of course not," said Carleton.

  "That is to our advantage," said Zubian, with his sordid smile. "You—I— Devaux—Milbrook—we are the only ones who will know. Therefore one other— The Shadow—will suppose, like Gats and his gang, that the diamonds are still in the safe!"

  "I begin to see it now!" cried Carleton. "You mean that while the diamonds are at Devaux's -"

  "Exactly," interrupted Zubian. "At the very time of the syndicate office attack—half past nine—masked men will enter and take the diamonds from Devaux's home."

  "And The Shadow -"

  "Will be at the syndicate office, battling with Gats. Another point to our advantage. Perhaps, this time, he will fail at last!"

  Douglas Carleton could not restrain his enthusiasm. His worry and his nervousness ended, he leaped up and seized Felix Zubian's hand. With glowing terms, he congratulated his shrewd companion.

  "Give me credit after to-morrow night," said Zubian, still smiling. "In the meantime, instruct Gats and Squint to make their attack. We have long had plans for it, but have kept them in abeyance. Incidentally, I shall need two or three men to help me. Let Squint pick them and arrange a meeting place."

  The two men walked to the door. Zubian watched Carleton leave the room on his new mission.

  Returning to his chair, Felix Zubian lighted a cigarette and smiled as he stared through the window to the twinkling lights that sparkled amid the glow of Manhattan.

  Somewhere out there was The Shadow—a formidable foe, that spectral shape in black. But Felix Zubian was not worried. His plans were made.

  To-morrow night, The Shadow would be outwitted by the strategy of the man who called himself The Shadow's shadow.

  To-morrow night would tell!

  CHAPTER XXII. CARLETON GIVES ORDERS

  AT four o'clock the next afternoon, Shelton Milbrook called at the home of Stanford Devaux. He frowned when he stood in the hall, for he could see the form of Douglas Carleton at the other side of the living room.

  A servant approached and ushered Milbrook upstairs to Devaux's study. Passing the living-room door, Milbrook caught a glimpse of Virginia Devaux, seated at the piano. The girl's bright eyes sparkled as she saw Milbrook glance in her direction.

  Shelton Milbrook was a man who did not hold mistrusts. Nevertheless, he did not like Douglas Carleton.

  It was not because he loved Virginia Devaux that made Milbrook feel this prejudice toward the girl's fiance. Milbrook was too fair-minded to feel antagonism on that account. He merely had the intuition that enabled him to detect Carleton's real character. He seemed to know that the man was crooked.

  Virginia Devaux was constantly in Shelton Milbrook's mind. He knew that the girl was unhappy. He had learned that she admired him. The thought that she would be forced to marry such a craven as Carleton was indeed disturbing.

  Milbrook had managed to talk to the girl during his recent visits to the Devaux mansion. She had given intimations that proved how greatly she detested the man to whom she was engaged. This had only served to increase Shelton Milbrook's dislike for Carleton.

  Stanford Devaux greeted the representative of the United Diamond Syndicate when he entered the study.

  The door closed behind them, and the two men engaged in serious conversation.

  "Regarding to-night," said Milbrook, "I must make sure that everything is properly arranged. You have told no one that you called me regarding the diamonds?"

  "No," responded Devaux. "I have spoken to no one since last night."

  "Then," said Milbrook, "it will be safe for me to bring the entire collection as you requested. You understand, of course, that uncut diamonds valued at two million dollars cannot be handled carelessly.

  Therefore, I shall be armed; and I intend to bring another man with me."

  "Certainly," agreed Devaux. "I expect you to use every precaution against possible trouble, although I am sure that none will occur."

  "Your purchase, Mr. Devaux," began Milbrook, "will certainly be large enough to justify the risk that I am taking!"

  "I expect to buy a half million dollars' worth," said the multimillionaire. "But I must see the entire collection in order to make my choice."

  "That is agreed," declared Milbrook. "I have one question more, however. Who will be here beside yourself?"

  "My daughter," responded Devaux, "and possibly her fiance, Mr. Carleton."

  Milbrook puckered his lips, and a frown appeared upon his high forehead. Devaux saw his expression and questioned it.

  "Do you object?" he asked.

  "No," said Milbrook thoughtfully. "In fact, I would prefer to have Carleton here—rather than somewhere else."

  There was a significance in the reply. Devaux frowned; then broke into a long chuckle. He arose from his chair and stepped forward to clap Milbrook on the shoulder.

  "So you mistrust Carleton!" he exclaimed. "That is laughable, Milbrook. Carleton is a man of high social standing. Worth a million in his own right!"

  "Have you ever seen the million?" questioned Milbrook pointedly.

  "What a preposterous idea," laughed Devaux. "Carleton is engaged to my daughter. I have approved their marriage. That is sufficient, Milbrook. I unquestionably know more about Carleton than you do."

  "All right," returned Milbrook reluctantly, "I shall make no objection to him being here. But if you happen to notice me watching him, don't raise a protest. I dislike the man."

  With that, Milbrook departed, after stating that he would visit the syndicate office some time later, to appear with the diamonds before nine o'clock.

  From the tone of his voice, it seemed possible that the diamonds had already been removed from the syndicate's safe in the Archive Building. Stanford Devaux did not appear to be at all interested in the matter. He was looking forward to the display of the diamonds in this room.

  PASSING the living room on the way through the hall, Milbrook caught another glimpse of Virginia. He knew that the girl had been watching for his return. A deep blush spread over her face when her eyes met Milbrook's.

  "I suppose you love that fellow," growled Carleton, a few minutes after Milbrook had gone. "That would be just like you, Virginia, to pick out a rowdy-faced brute like Milbrook."

  The girl stared defiantly toward her fiance. She arose and walked to the door of the living room. There she paused to fling a parting challenge.

  "You forget," she said, "that
you are in my father's home, and that Mr. Milbrook is my father's friend. If you are attempting to draw a contrast between yourself and Shelton Milbrook, I should advise you to study his courtesy and his deportment. You might learn much to your advantage. Shelton Milbrook is a gentleman—not in appearance only."

  The girl swept from the room. Carleton followed her with scowling eyes. Then he laughed, arose leisurely from his chair, and went up the stairs to Stanford Devaux's study. He sat down opposite the millionaire.

  "Ah, Carleton," remarked Devaux, in an easy tone, "a gentleman was just speaking to me about you."

  "Who?" demanded Carleton. "Milbrook?"

  "Yes."

  "What did he have to say?"

  "He doubted the advisability of your being here to-night. He says that he is not convinced of your honesty."

  "Yes? What did you say?"

  "I allayed his fears. It will be quite all right for you to be here - under his close observation."

  "Did he mention Virginia?"

  "No."

  Carleton was thoughtful. He looked at Stanford Devaux with a knowing glance.

  "She has fallen for him," said Carleton, in a low tone. "While Milbrook is around, it is going to be tough for me. He's a trouble-maker, that fellow. You didn't tell him that I suggested you have the diamonds brought out, did you?"

  "No," responded Devaux, with a quiet smile. "That might have made him change his purpose."

  "Hm-m-m," said Carleton. "We must talk about this later—after dinner. In the meantime"—he pointed toward the desk—"may I use your telephone?"

  "Certainly," agreed Devaux.

  The millionaire arose and left the room. He passed Virginia in the hall, and looked questioningly at the girl, suspecting that she had been listening to his conversation with her fiance. No words passed between father and daughter. They went downstairs together.

  Alone and unheard, Douglas Carleton spoke across the wire to Felix Zubian. His words were significant.

  They added a new duty to to-night's job.

  "Be sure," said Carleton in a low voice, "that Shelton Milbrook gets the works to-night. He knows too much!"

  CHAPTER XXIII. THE SYNDICATE OFFICE

  THE blue light was glowing in The Shadow's sanctum. Two white hands were at work making notations upon a sheet of paper. The fiery girasol threw its ever-changing sparkle from The Shadow's finger.

  The cryptic statements which The Shadow wrote were evidently references to the activities of certain persons with whom he had been recently concerned. Among them appeared names: Gats Hackett, Squint Freston, and those of lesser gangsters.

  Then, in new notations, The Shadow's hand inscribed the names of Douglas Carleton and Felix Zubian.

  Master plotters though that pair believed themselves to be, they had not managed to escape The Shadow's attention.

  Where Lamont Cranston had been watched, at the Cobalt Club, Henry Arnaud had become a watcher.

  He had connected many links in a broken chain of circumstances. Even now, he was fingering a sheet of paper that bore the names of other persons: Stanford Devaux and his daughter, Virginia.

  A tiny spot of light gleamed across the table. The Shadow's hands reached forward, and obtained a pair of ear phones. These disappeared into darkness, to be fitted upon an unseen head. A voice whispered into the mouthpiece.

  "Report."

  "Burbank speaking," came a voice from the other end. "Report from Cliff Marsland. He is established as a member of Gats Hackett's new gang. Job set for to-night. Ready to leave at half past eight. Clyde Burke is following. Will report upon signal from Marsland."

  The ear phones moved across the table. The tiny light no longer glimmered. The Shadow laughed softly in the darkness. His plans were working well to-night.

  The Shadow had anticipated Gats Hackett's next move immediately after the battle beneath the Tenth Avenue garage. Since Harry Vincent and Rutledge Mann were now known to The Shadow's enemies, he had placed those agents out of danger's way. But in New York, The Shadow had another pair of competent workers whom he had called to active duty.

  One was Cliff Marsland, who had entree to the underworld. Gangsters believed that Cliff was one of their own ilk. Hence when Gats Hackett had recruited his new forces—a step which The Shadow had foreseen— Cliff had been welcomed as a member of the replenished mob.

  The other was Clyde Burke, a newspaper reporter. He had been assigned to the job of following Cliff Marsland, so that the pretended gangster might flash him a signal when Gats Hackett's mob had assembled at a given spot.

  Minutes went by, while The Shadow's hands still moved among the papers. Shortly before nine o'clock, the little light made a tiny spot across the table. Again, The Shadow communed with Burbank.

  "Mob outside Archive Building," reported Burbank, in his quiet tones. "Attack planned on diamond syndicate office. Half past nine is zero hour."

  "Instructions to Burke," declared the voice of The Shadow. "Visit Cardona at headquarters. Keep him there on interview, until after nine thirty."

  The little light was gone. The large blue incandescent flicked out. The room was in darkness. A shuddering laugh swept through the blackness. A robe swished amid the shivering echoes. The Shadow was gone.

  FIFTEEN minutes later, an almost invisible shape moved inward from a window on the eighth floor of the Archive Building. The figure of The Shadow merged with the blackness of darkened corridors. It passed directly beside the half-opened door of an empty office. There, The Shadow listened.

  "Be ready, Squint," came the whispered voice of Gats Hackett. "We're holding it until nine thirty. That's when the boys outside will begin to act suspicious."

  "Yeah," responded Squint grimly. "They're goin' to bring The Shadow in on us, eh?"

  "Sure," declared Gats, in a brave tone. "He's going to run into my smoke wagons to-night, unless he gets nabbed on the way in. We're going to do it right this trip. I can blow the lid off that old kettle in two minutes. You scram with the sparklers. I'll stick with the mob to get The Shadow."

  "What if he don't get here?"

  "Him?" Gats was derisive. "That fox? You bet he'll be here! With Gaffer, Fuzz, Martin, and that guy Marsland roaming around the building, he'll spot something sure enough. Say—he's got to be good to get by those birds."

  The Shadow moved on. He passed by other spots where men were lying silent.

  Gats Hackett had spoken the truth when he had declared it would be difficult for The shadow to enter this building unobserved. As a matter of fact, The Shadow had not scaled the wall unseen. His long, mysterious form had been glimpsed by one man who was watching that particular portion of the building—The Shadow's own man, Cliff Marsland.

  A key jogged into the lock of the syndicate office. It was a formidable lock, one which Gats Hackett expected to crack with a powerful blow. But the hand of The Shadow opened the lock noiselessly. A tiny, black steel instrument performed the operation without any difficulty.

  Within the office, the door closed behind him, The Shadow continued until he came upon a strong safe in the corner. There, aided by the small round spot of a tiny flashlight, his left hand began its work upon the dials. The hand was ungloved; the sensitive fingers were unhampered. The mystic hues of the girasol sparkled with new radiance.

  The door of the safe opened. The spot of the flashlight, a circle no larger than a silver dollar, probed the interior. It came, at last, to a final stopping point.

  The inspection of the steel box was final and complete. The safe was empty!

  The light went out. There was a short pause, while a keen brain sought the answer to this unexpected enigma. Then, a soft, scarcely audible laugh sounded before the safe, and its tones were whispered back in the same weird fashion by the steel interior of the opened strong box.

  The door of the safe closed slowly and softly while the echoes still emerged. There, in the dark, it seemed as though The Shadow had locked his own mockery within the vault!

  The bl
ack cloak swished as The Shadow swept swiftly across the room. The flashlight glimmered upon a telephone. The light went out. A whispered voice was calling a number. A short space followed. The tones of a gruff voice came from the other end. Detective Joe Cardona was on the line.

  "Yes, room eight—six—four"—The Shadow's whispered voice was low and ominous—"in the Archive Building. Office—United Diamond Syndicate. Safe blowers here. Come at once."

  The receiver clicked. The Shadow's form moved toward the door. Invisible hands turned the lock and the knob. The door was opened. The way lay free for The Shadow's unseen departure.

  He had come here, this being of the night, to take the wealth of diamonds before the crooks arrived. He had come too late for he found the diamonds missing. Now he was setting forth to seek them.

  The Shadow stood still. Some one was coming down the hall. It was the watchman, going his rounds to see if all doors were locked.

  The door began to close, The Shadow still within the office. The door did not shut all the way. An interruption caused it to remain in its position.

  Vague men had leaped up from the silence of the corridor. One of them, striking in the dark, felled the watchman. The old man's lantern clattered to the floor.

  The cracked voice of Gats Hackett was giving a command. The gang leader, impatient, was directing the attack before the zero hour of half past nine!

  The door of the syndicate office was now closed. In the pale glow that flitted in from the window, the figure of The Shadow made a dim, fantastic silhouette. Both hands were gloved, and they were moving, drawing two huge automatics from beneath the folds of the black cloak.

  DOWN in detective headquarters, Joe Cardona was shouting orders like a madman. Men were rushing to do his bidding. Thumping on the desk, the star detective gave his final instructions. Then he happened to remember Clyde Burke. He turned to the silent reporter, who was staring in open-mouthed wonderment.

  "Come along, Burke!" shouted Cardona. "You want a story—you'll get it! I've got a tipoff. They're blowing a safe at the United Diamond Syndicate office!"