Gray Fist s-48

by Maxwell Grant

  Landis Glascomb seemed on the verge of collapse. He leaned forward, trembling. His whole frame seemed to tremble as he heard the news.

  "I feared that, too," he quavered. "I feared it. You have the list - with you -"

  "Here in my pocket," interposed Cardona.

  "You have not made my name public?" There was anxiety in Glascomb's tone.

  "No," returned the detective. "No one else has seen the list. I am willing to show it to you—but only after I know what it is all about."

  "I can tell you," nodded Glascomb.

  "About Cowry—or Varden—or Preston?" quizzed Cardona.

  "About them all"—Glascomb was emphatic—"about them all—and many more!"

  "The others on the list?"

  "More than that," he declared solemnly. "More than that. I can tell you about -"

  "About the man behind the game?" asked Cardona as Landis Glascomb paused.

  "Yes." The old man's voice was hollow. "I can tell you all about Gray Fist!"

  A pause.

  "Gray Fist!"

  The name gasped from Glascomb's lips for the second time. A terrible fear seemed to sweep the old man. Cardona felt the dread that was in Glascomb's tone.

  Instinctively, the detective knew that he was to learn strange facts regarding a supercrook whose sway was backed by death!

  CHAPTER XX. MOBSMEN STRIKE

  "GRAY FIST!" Landis Glascomb shuddered as he spoke. "Gray Fist is the enemy whom I fear. His power is beyond belief. He holds me in his clutch!"

  Cardona stared as Glascomb made a closing gesture with a pair of withered hands. The old man sank back into his chair.

  "Who is Gray Fist?" inquired the detective.

  "I do not know." Landis Glascomb shook his head wearily. "I do not think that any one knows—any one who is alive to-night."

  "He is a crook?" queried Cardona.

  "A great one," returned Glascomb. "One with whom I could not hope to cope."

  "He killed Varden?"

  "I think so; but I do not know. No one knows. No one but Gray Fist."

  "I figured a big shot behind this," asserted Cardona. "I've got some facts to work on. I want more. Let's have your story, Mr. Glascomb."

  "You will protect me?"

  "As far as I can."

  "I swear that I have done no crime."

  "Then you can count on my full protection. Only, though, if you let me know the story."

  The old man nodded. He glanced about furtively as if expecting some terrible fiend to leap forth from the wall. At last his courage returned. In a calm, restrained voice, he began to speak.

  "Some time ago," he stated, "I was visited by Seth Cowry. The man told me he was a racketeer. I expected blackmail, particularly when he pointed out financial transactions in which I would experience great loss if he told all about them.

  "Cowry came to terms. He merely wanted me to act as aid to an unknown individual whom he termed Gray Fist. I was to follow all the instructions that I received from this master. I accepted. Then came letters."

  "You have them?"

  "No. I was afraid, and I destroyed them. They were on gray paper, of double thickness. They had to be held to a strong light in order to be read."

  Cardona did not recall the gray sheet in Varden's study. At the same time he wondered if he had passed over such a message during his inspection of Varden's papers.

  "Gray Fist threatened me," declared Glascomb. "He cowed me. Yet all the time I was wise. I made negotiations so that my financial transactions were clear. I was ready to risk exposure of my business plans without experiencing great loss.

  "That was because I realized what was coming. Some day—I knew it well—Gray Fist would make demands. He would force me to aid his criminal plans. To refuse would mean death. Death. It means death now" - Glascomb's tone was a hoarse whisper—"to be talking to you. But I am risking it. I am free of Gray Fist's original threat. I want to be clear of his insidious power."

  THE old man paused and drew deep breaths. He rubbed his wan hands together; then managed to steady himself. He stared solemnly at his visitor.

  "I knew that there were others under Gray Fist's power," resumed Glascomb. "I wanted to know who they were. Seth Cowry no longer came to see me. But I received a mysterious message from Gray Fist, left beneath my door by some minion. It said that I could not expect to see Cowry again.

  "I knew that Cowry must have been slain. That was probably the price he paid for attempted treachery.

  All was quiet until after Varden disappeared. Then I received another note from Gray Fist. It mentioned no names. It contained only seven words: Traitors beware the doom that I deliver.

  "I happened to hear that Worth Varden, an importer with whom I had some business dealings, had suddenly left town. I wondered if he could be the one whom Gray Fist meant. Then, last night, came another note telling me to leave New York at once.

  "I remained. I sent my bags away with my servants—all except old Philo, whom I kept here. I read the newspapers. I learned that an acquaintance of mine, Ruggles Preston, had been killed by gangsters.

  "Then I saw the truth. Preston was in Gray Fist's employ. His work was to watch those whom Gray Fist held. That is why Preston pretended to be a friend of mine.

  "I was afraid to move. I wanted to call the police. I was sure that Gray Fist's other dupes had obeyed his bidding. But I knew that they were still under Gray Fist's total power. I realized, too, that Preston's death must have caused some difficulty to Gray Fist."

  Again the old man paused. Joe Cardona smiled grimly.

  "I've got the trouble," he asserted. "It's this list—the one I took from Preston."

  "That explains it," agreed Landis Glascomb. "But now that I have brought you here, I am terribly afraid."

  "Of Gray Fist?"

  "Yes. I still have the urge to flee. I have told you all I know. It is not much, but it will aid you in your search for this terrible fiend."

  "What do you intend to do?"

  "I want to leave New York at once. To do what Gray Fist thinks I have done. My luggage went to Florida—it is on its way there with my servants. I should like to leave to-night."

  CARDONA considered. He could see no objection to Glascomb's suggestion. The old financier was guiltless, apparently; if he had held back any of his story, there was certainly no way in which Cardona could prove the fact. After all, Cardona was not inclined to blame the man for covering up any financial business that might cause him unfair loss.

  "If you leave," decided Cardona, "you will be out of range of Gray Fist's power."

  "No," said Glascomb wearily, "I shall fear his power wherever I may go. Yet I shall be safer if I have appeared to have followed his command."

  "Then go," urged Cardona.

  "I am afraid," pleaded Glascomb. "That is why I told you to come here—one reason, at least. I thought that in return for my statement, you would see that I reached the station in safety."

  Cardona arose.

  "Come on," he said. "We'll ride down there in a taxicab. I'll be on the lookout for any tough birds that Gray Fist puts on your trail."

  Landis Glascomb accompanied the detective to the door. Philo, the servant, brought his master's hat and coat. The detective and financier went downstairs. Philo cautiously opened the door. The pair departed from the house.

  Glascomb's step seemed quick and firm as they walked toward an avenue. The protection of the detective had given the old man new courage. At the avenue, Cardona hailed a cab. They rode to the Pennsylvania Station.

  Glascomb arranged to take a train to Washington; there to await a through train for Florida. He wanted to be out of New York. Cardona could not blame him.

  The detective watched the old man through the gate. Landis Glascomb looked pathetic as he went away alone. Cardona smiled. He realized that Glascomb had told him of a definite menace; at the same time, Cardona had an idea that the old man had exaggerated the power of Gray Fist.

  The arch c
rook had mobsters under his control. Cardona was positive of that fact. But Joe had encountered others before who had used mobsmen to aid their schemes of villainy. As he walked from the Thirty-third Street entrance of the station, Cardona turned eastward, feeling sure that Glascomb's plight was chiefly imaginary.

  Cardona did not realize that his attention had completely engaged with Glascomb on the way here; and that now, his thoughts of what the old financier had told him were crowding other impressions from his mind.

  In reviewing all that he had heard; in planning action against Gray Fist, Cardona was deeply absorbed.

  His natural caution was ended. He did not realize what was due to happen.

  A soft whistle sounded from in back of Joe Cardona. As the detective turned, unconsciously scenting danger in the sound, men rose suddenly from the wall beside him. Three ruffians fell upon Joe Cardona en masse.

  The detective went down under the rush. As his senses swam, he felt himself thrust into a waiting car.

  Then came the roar of the motor; after that, a blow against the head that dropped him groggy to the floor.

  Detective Joe Cardona was in the power of Gray Fist!

  CHAPTER XXI. YAT SOON RULES

  YAT SOON, the arbiter of Chinatown, was standing in his paneled reception room. Despite the splendor of the place, there was no furniture. Yat Soon, when he received visitors, made it a custom for all to remain standing.

  There was a musical clang from without. Yat Soon stepped to the wall and pressed a hidden release. A panel rose. Two tall Chinese stepped into the room. Yat Soon recognized them as important tong leaders.

  The entering men bowed before the one whom they recognized as ruler. At a command from Yat Soon, one began to speak in Chinese. Yat Soon listened placidly. The other spoke. When he had finished, Yat Soon replied in the native tongue.

  "Yat Soon has ordered," was his statement. "Yat Soon expects you to obey. There is one whom I seek as a prisoner. He must be brought hither before another night descends."

  The tong leaders babbled pleading replies. Yat Soon was obdurate.

  "You say that you have searched everywhere," he said. "That is no answer to Yat Soon's order. Go. Find my prisoner, or be lowered from the powers which you now hold. Yat Soon has spoken. Yat Soon rules."

  The tong leaders bowed. They backed from the room as the panel opened. The brass gate descended silently. Yat Soon remained alone.

  Despite his statement to the tong leaders, Yat Soon was troubled. Never had any one within the realm of Chinatown been able to balk his power. This intruder—one whom they called The Shadow—had been the first to show a strange ability in eluding the powerful arbiter.

  Yet the tong leaders could certainly have spared no effort in their search. Where could The Shadow be?

  A troubled look appeared upon the face of Yat Soon. Again, the ruler raised the panel. He summoned one of his Chinese guards.

  "Be ready," he told the Mongol. "I, Yat Soon, shall lead a search. As an example, I shall bring the tong men here. I shall show them through my secret rooms, that they may learn of hidden places beyond their dreams. Be ready, should I call."

  Stepping back through the brass door, Yat Soon closed the panel. He stood in deep meditation, and his yellowed face showed a sternness. It was some subtle inkling that caused Yat Soon to suddenly look up.

  A PANEL was closing at the side of the secret room. Yet Yat Soon's view of the dropping entrance was only partial. The chief portion of the panel was obscured by a form that intervened. Yat Soon was staring at a figure clad in black. His own fixed eyes were met by blazing orbs that stared from beneath the broad brim of a slouch hat.

  A hand, gloved in black, projected from a cloak of the same hue. In that hand was an automatic. The weapon loomed before Yat Soon's gaze. Yet the Chinaman made no motion. He did not stir even when he heard the whispered tones of a shuddering laugh that echoed through that square-walled chamber like a sinister cry from the grave.

  Yat Soon stood inflexible as he saw the one whom he was seeking as his prisoner: The Shadow!

  "Yat Soon." The whispered voice was weird. "You have sought me. I am here. You have found The Shadow."

  The Chinaman's face remained inflexible. Others might have quailed at this dread meeting; not so the stern man whose word was law in Chinatown.

  "I have come," resumed The Shadow, "to end your quest. If you prefer life to death, Yat Soon, you will make no effort to prevent my departure."

  The flicker of a smile appeared upon Yat Soon's lips. Stolidly, the Celestial made reply, his words a paraphrase of those which The Shadow had uttered.

  "If you, The Shadow," was his statement, "prefer life to death, you will become my prisoner."

  The Shadow laughed. Yat Soon did not appear troubled. His smile remained.

  "I know now," declared Yat Soon, "where you have been in hiding. You, The Shadow, found your way to the one place where we did not think of searching. You have been lurking within the portals of my own secret abode.

  "You were wise. You were safe here. You have acted craftily to elude my guards. But now you are a prisoner. Those who enter this room can never leave without the will of Yat Soon. The portals are closed against you. I, Yat Soon, alone possess the secret of reopening any of them."

  The Shadow could see that Yat Soon had spoken the truth. Face to face with one of the craftiest of all Chinese, The Shadow had discovered a formidable opponent. Yet The Shadow's threat was ready in return.

  "You have spoken well, Yat Soon," declared the black-clad master. "But you forget your own condition.

  Perhaps death may await me should I try to leave this room. But remember, Yat Soon! Before I make such an attempt, you will be dead upon this very floor!"

  The threat was ample. Yat Soon's smile faded. It was stale-mate. The Shadow could not escape without Yat Soon's aid. Yat Soon, should he fail to obey The Shadow's order, would die at The Shadow's hand!

  Minutes moved slowly by while Yat Soon faced The Shadow. Then, with a short bow, the Chinaman made his decision.

  "Very well," he remarked, in his perfect English. "We must die."

  THERE was a strange acceptance in the Chinaman's tone. It brought a steady glare from The Shadow's blazing eyes. Yat Soon was able to resist that gaze; but he caught a question in the gleam. Unresisting, he answered it.

  "The word of Yat Soon has been given," declared the Chinaman, in simple tones. "I have promised to deliver you to Gray Fist. I must obey; even though my life may be the sacrifice. Gray Fist must have The Shadow. Alive or dead."

  The statement was given in a tone of fact. It showed the simplicity of Yat Soon's nature; it revealed the justice that had made this one Chinese the arbiter of all Chinatown. The question still appeared in The Shadow's eyes.

  "Gray Fist once aided me," explained Yat Soon. "A young man—from China—was in danger. Gray Fist, in return for aiding him from the country, demanded that I, Yat Soon, serve Gray Fist."

  "And you agreed," came The Shadow's whispered tone.

  "I did agree," resumed Yat Soon, "but only to one promise. I told Gray Fist that I would accede to a single request. He did not ask it until recently. Then he sent word that you were in Chinatown. He demanded that I turn you over to him, as a prisoner. Alive or dead."

  There was no doubt that Yat Soon intended to keep his promise. Silence pervaded the room, until The Shadow spoke. His hissing tone was solemn.

  "Gray Fist," declared The Shadow, "once offered me a promise. He agreed to loose two prisoners—men who served me—if I would yield to his demand. He has not done so."

  "You are not his prisoner," rejoined Yat Soon.

  "That is true," announced The Shadow. "But should I aid you in keeping your promise to Gray Fist, you, in turn, must assure me that Gray Fist will keep his promise to me."

  Yat Soon blinked solemnly. With his steady mind, the arbiter considered the proposal. At length, he bowed, in acceptance of the terms.

  "If you enable me to ke
ep my trust," he said, "I shall plead with Gray Fist to abide by his terms with you."

  "That is not enough!" The Shadow's tone was stern. "This, Yat Soon, is a new pact. It lies between us alone. I shall become your prisoner. I, by my own willingness, shall see that your promise to Gray Fist is kept.

  "But I must have your aid—your fairness—to see that Gray Fist deals with me as he has promised.

  Should he perform no treachery, he may take me, even though it means my death."

  "What is your plan?" inquired Yat Soon doubtfully.

  The Shadow's whisper resumed. This time, the black-garbed phantom moved closer to Yat Soon. The words that The Shadow uttered were not in English. They were in perfect Chinese, to the amazement of Yat Soon. The Celestial nodded; wonder, then admiration, appeared upon his face. When The Shadow's discourse was ended, Yat Soon understood. He bowed.

  "All is fair," he replied in English. "I shall perform my obligation to Gray Fist. I shall give him the opportunity to prove that he will keep his word. You will become his prisoner as I have promised. Yat Soon agrees."

  The Shadow's automatic disappeared beneath the black cloak. Yat Soon went to the rear of the room and pressed a switch. Another panel arose. It revealed a small room, beautifully decorated in Chinese style. Yat Soon bowed for The Shadow to enter.

  "This," declared Yat Soon, "will be your prison, for the time. I shall give the order to reach Gray Fist. I shall return, to speak with you, before he has arrived. I, Yat Soon, shall keep my word with The Shadow. Yat Soon has spoken."

  The Shadow stepped through the threshold into the little room. The panel descended as Yat Soon pressed the switch. Alone, the Chinaman blinked solemnly. A bland smile appeared upon his yellow face.

  Yat Soon was ready to keep his promise to Gray Fist. The Shadow would soon be in the power of the superfiend!

  CHAPTER XXII. GRAY FIST ARRIVES

  LONG hours had passed since The Shadow's interview with Yat Soon. Once again, the wise Mongol stood within the portals of his reception room. A clang at the door. Yat Soon opened the panel to admit Snakes Blakey.

  Yat Soon's expression showed that he had expected the sneaky gangster's arrival. Snakes, feeling more confidence than he had shown before, began to speak as soon as the panel had dropped.