Giving Cranston's name, The Shadow asked for Count Fondelac. The clerk called the suite where Five-face was entertaining his lieutenants, and soon announced that Mr. Cranston could go upstairs. Before turning to the elevators,
The Shadow laid his package on the desk.
"Kindly call the Cobalt Club," he requested, in Cranston's style. "Ask them to send my limousine over here. And by the way, will you turn this package
over to your doorman and ask him to deliver it to my chauffeur?"
Upstairs, Five-face was stepping out from behind the bar, which filled an alcove in his living room. He was urging his lieutenants to finish up their drinks. Gesturing to the alcove, he added:
"Get in here, all three of you, and keep quiet. I know this fellow Cranston; he's worth a few million bucks, and he's been invited to the reception. That's why he's stopping by. Watch me handle him."
The lieutenants moved behind the bar. Five-face pulled the screen in place, completely hiding them, though they were able to see through the cracks and watch what happened in the living room.
There was a buzz from the door. Five-face answered it. Immediately, he was
Count Fondelac, sophisticated of face, bowing in manner, as he shook hands with
the gentleman whom he addressed as "M'sieu' Cranston."
Behind the screen, the lieutenants watched in admiration. It was impossible to guess that Fondelac was anyone other than himself. The same applied to Cranston, though they did not guess it.
Here was a historical meeting: The Shadow, foe of evil, shaking hands with
Five-face, master of crime, under the gaze of the super-crook's own lieutenants!
Fortunately, only The Shadow knew the full details of the situation.
Neither Five-face nor the others guessed his real identity.
Posing as Cranston, The Shadow invited Fondelac to ride with him to the reception, and the count agreed to go. But behind the mask of Fondelac, a keen brain was at work, and The Shadow knew it. He had expected that it would be.
Five-face was taking The Shadow's bait.
"Ah, M'sieu' Cranston" - Fondelac's tone had a pleasant purr - "this is one excellent meeting. You are the man who can tell me what I wish to know. I have some French government bonds, which Albertina gave me, of which I must dispose, since Albertina insists that I never return to la belle France.
"Perhaps they would be a good exchange for some American securities. But I
know nothing" - he shrugged - "of your investments here. I may lose money, but
-
pouf!" He snapped his fingers. "What is money to me, when I have my Albertina?"
The question was logical enough, and provided its own answer. No one ever thought of Albertina Adquin except in terms of money, and that in big figures.
As Fondelac expected, Cranston showed immediate interest.
He asked more about the bonds. Fondelac recalled their year of issue, and finally set a price on them, which was about two thirds their actual value.
What he did not mention was the fact that he had already told his lieutenants; that the bonds in question were counterfeits.
"Suppose we meet tomorrow night," suggested Cranston. "We can get together
at the Cobalt Club, say about eight. Bring the bonds along, Count, and I shall have some American securities to show you."
THE two were talking in hundred-thousand-dollar terms, as they left the suite together. It was Fondelac who closed the door; his face dropped its suavity, as he grinned back toward the screen and gestured to the hidden lieutenants.
Cranston had set the place, even the hour, which was all the lieutenants had to know. As soon as the door went shut, they came from hiding. Pushing back
the screen, Banker suggested that they have another drink before they cleared out.
"We'll do a sneak from here," declared Banker, "and get the mob away.
This
Fondelac stunt is the best bet that Five-face has staged yet. He can count on us
at the right time tomorrow."
Outside the hotel, two members of the picked mob had sneaked away from the
rest. Cliff and Hawkeye were conferring in an alleyway, wondering why they hadn't heard from The Shadow. The lapse of time made them think that Fondelac had been abducted, and that The Shadow had run into grief trying to save him.
Suddenly, Hawkeye gripped Cliff's arm, pointed from the mouth of the alley
to the front of the hotel. The Shadow's agents stared in utter amazement at two
men who came from the main door and entered a waiting limousine.
One was Lamont Cranston, otherwise The Shadow. He was arm in arm with a suave-looking friend, who could only be Count Raoul Fondelac. Rescuer and victim were leaving the Hotel Bayonne as if nothing at all had happened!
There was added mystery when the agents rejoined the mobbies and found that the lieutenants had returned. It was Banker who simply said that the job was off and that the crew could have cash that had been promised them.
That Fondelac was Five-face did not occur to Cliff and Hawkeye. The fact would have puzzled them even more, considering Cranston's friendly departure with the pretended count. It would have told them, however, that tonight's strange events would bode even stranger consequences.
With The Shadow and Five-face matching wits in each other's company, anything might happen!
CHAPTER XVII
BEFORE EIGHT
IT was late afternoon and Commissioner Weston was leaving his office, accompanied by Lamont Cranston. All afternoon, Weston had been talking to the financiers who had been robbed by Barney Kelm, trying to get any sort of clues regarding the missing fight promoter.
With the Barney matter a total blank, Weston decided to check on previous cases, as a matter of routine, even though he had no expectations of results.
"We'll go to Breddle first," said the commissioner, "and see if anyone at the Diamond Mart can remember anything about Flush Tygert. After that, we can drop in at Melbrun's office and thrash over the case of Jake Smarley."
The Shadow smiled at the commissioner's use of the word "thrash." The term
"hash" would have been better. Nevertheless, The Shadow was willing to encourage
Weston. He wanted the commissioner to be in the proper mood for the coming evening, when The Shadow intended to introduce the law to Count Fondelac and surprise the pretended nobleman in a fashion that would end his career as Five-face.
THE trip to the Diamond Mart took more than half an hour. It was nearly six when the commissioner and Cranston arrived at Melbrun's office, to find the
importer hard at work.
Melbrun was planning a trip to Buenos Aires, to open up new channels in South American trade. He had practically forgotten the matter of Smarley.
"I'll be tied up here for the next couple of hours," said Melbrun.
"Suppose I see you tomorrow, commissioner. Of course, if the matter is important, I could stop by at the club this evening."
"It is not important," returned Weston. "Besides, I shall not be at the Cobalt Club tonight. I have been invited to a banquet, and will have to go there."
"Why not stop off anyway, Melbrun?" inquired The Shadow, in Cranston's fashion. "I happen to have something urgent on my mind, and you are the very man to help me with it."
"What can that be, Cranston?"
"Some French government bonds," replied The Shadow. "I intend to exchange some American securities for them. I would like the opinion of a man versed in international exchange. You are the very person, Melbrun."
Melbrun agreed to be at the club soon after eight o'clock. The visitors left, and Weston promptly inquired why Cranston happened to be buying foreign bonds. The Shadow mentioned that he was purchasing them from Count Fondelac.
"I might suggest that you slip away from the banquet shortly before eight," added The Shadow. "I would like you to be present, too, commissioner."
"Just why?"
"Becau
se I don't trust Fondelac," was the reply. "It would also be an excellent idea to have Inspector Cardona outside, with a picked squad. But impress upon him that he is to restrain himself. Fondelac is very clever; he might have friends on hand to warn him if police were about. The fellow strikes
me as being an experienced swindler."
The thing intrigued Weston. Watching the commissioner, The Shadow noticed his flickers of expression and read them correctly. Weston did not, in any wise, class Count Fondelac with such crooks as Smarley, Flush and Barney.
Therefore, the commissioner could be depended upon to handle his part of the job in smooth style.
Weston could be smooth enough under proper circumstances; and that applied
to a chance meeting at the Cobalt Club, where the commissioner was a member and
therefore likely to drop in at any time.
Dropping off at the club, The Shadow strolled about, looking over strategic spots. He knew that tonight's task would be no set-up. It wasn't just
a case of dealing with a smart swindler, as The Shadow had led Weston to believe. Five-face would have his usual quota of reserves, headed by his three lieutenants.
The master crook was anxious to dispose of the Fondelac personality; to efface it forever, as he had three others. He wouldn't care if he identified himself with mobbies in a spectacular style. The law had not guessed that three
previous crimes had been staged by one master crook.
Fondelac, of all people, would never be linked with Smarley, Flush or Barney, no matter how he staged the coming crime.
In looking over the setting, The Shadow remembered that his agents would be present, as actual members of a crooked horde. He saw ways in which they could play a part. When he called Burbank, The Shadow included special instructions that were to go to Cliff and Hawkeye.
Others, too, were given orders. Harry Vincent, long in The Shadow's service, was an agent who could come to the Cobalt Club at Cranston's invitation. Clyde Burke, a reporter on the New York Classic, was another who could logically be in this neighborhood. As for Moe, he and his cab would certainly be on hand.
Down the street was a small apartment house where a uniformed doorman could take a post without exciting suspicion. Tenants in the building would merely think that the management had decided to make the place fashionable. So The Shadow ordered Burbank to contact Jericho, a big African, and tell him to put on a fancy uniform for this evening.
Five-face would be walking into a double mesh when he came to the Cobalt Club as Count Fondelac. The police formed one net; The Shadow's agents, the other.
DINING as Cranston, The Shadow forgot the clock. Fondelac was to arrive at
eight, the hour that The Shadow had set for Melbrun. If anything, the count would probably be late, in keeping with his rather indifferent character.
Hence it was a mild surprise, even for The Shadow, when an attendant entered the grillroom, at quarter of eight, to announce that Count Fondelac had
arrived to see Mr. Cranston.
The grillroom was the proper meeting place. Telling the waiter to clear the table, The Shadow gave word to show Count Fondelac downstairs. When Fondelac arrived, he saw Cranston rising from the table, holding a leather portfolio beneath his arm.
"Sorry to be early," purred Fondelac. "But it is on account of Albertina.
She insists that she must go to the theater this evening. So instead of coming at eight o'clock, I find that I must leave by then."
There wasn't a slip in Fondelac's manner to indicate that he had obtained any knowledge of The Shadow's preparations. It might be that his mention of Albertina was the truth, and not an alibi. In his turn, The Shadow was very careful to give no indication that he wanted to hold Fondelac past the hour stated.
Five-face produced the French bonds. They were very clever counterfeits, but they did not deceive The Shadow. He had been to his bank that afternoon and
had examined French bonds thoroughly. Glaring from Fondelac's bonds were various
errors, tiny to the ordinary eye but magnified to The Shadow's gaze.
In the detection of false securities, The Shadow had no equal. At Cranston's home in New Jersey he kept a collection of counterfeit stocks and bonds, trophies of his battles against crime. He had gone over them thoroughly,
this very morning, looking for samples of French forgeries.
There had been none in The Shadow's collection, though he had many varieties of worthless paper. At least, Five-face was using judgment in peddling a new brand of counterfeit, which had never before been foisted in America. But The Shadow's inspection of genuine French bonds enabled him to know that Five-face was going through with the swindle.
Five-face was supremely clever. Smart enough, in fact, to change his game at the last minute. The Shadow had foreseen that the crooked count might even walk in with genuine bonds, if he suspected Cranston's bait. To make this transaction complete, The Shadow had to be sure that the bonds were counterfeit, before he took them. That part of the game was certain.
Fondelac rated the bonds at two hundred thousand dollars, a third less than their face value. They were an issue that was soon to mature, and the French government would surely meet its obligation, Fondelac insisted, despite wartime conditions. Apparently convinced that the deal was a good one, The Shadow opened his portfolio.
He spread various issues in front of Fondelac: stocks in copper mines and established oil companies; bonds guaranteed by large, thriving concerns. He even helped Fondelac pick out the ones that seemed best. Then, in Cranston's style, The Shadow remarked:
"But this is only my opinion, Count. For your benefit, I have invited a gentleman named Arnold Melbrun to join us. I think that he will render an impartial judgment."
There wasn't the slightest change on the face of Fondelac. His expression indicated that he had never heard of Melbrun. In fact, The Shadow did not expect such mention to bother Five-face. But there was another reason for Fondelac's indifference.
"I must keep my engagement," the crook insisted. "I am sorry, but I cannot
remain to meet your friend - What was his name, m'sieu'? It has slipped me."
"Arnold Melbrun," repeated The Shadow. "He should be here at any moment.
Wait, Count - here he is!"
IT wasn't Melbrun who stepped into the grillroom. The arrival was Commissioner Weston. Again, The Shadow was watching the features of Fondelac; they were not at all perturbed. In fact, Five-face simply gave a pleased nod when Cranston introduced Weston as the police commissioner.
"It is one honor, M'sieu' Commissioner," said Fondelac, with a profound bow. Then, turning to The Shadow: "I shall take these that you offer."
This time, The Shadow caught a sudden gleam from the eyes of Fondelac.
Five-face was watching Cranston put away the French bonds. On the table lay Cranston's securities, double the amount that the trade required.
To give Fondelac his choice, Cranston had brought negotiable stocks and bonds that totaled considerably more than half a million dollars!
Would Five-face walk out with only half of those, letting the transaction appear bona fide until the fraud of the French bonds was discovered?
Or would he show his hand in full, by seizing all of them and taking to headlong flight, as he had done on other occasions?
The Shadow already knew the answer. Five-face would swallow the full bait.
Nevertheless, he knew the risk and sensed that this might prove a trap. To some
degree, he had to play the role of Fondelac; even more, he wanted to know that flight would prove sure.
It was Weston who paved the way for Five-face. Turning to The Shadow, the commissioner remarked in a brisk tone:
"Inspector Cardona is coming here, Cranston. I told him that I wanted him to wait outside for Melbrun. I've been worried about Melbrun lately."
Weston meant what he said. Rather than crimp the Fondelac matter, he had actually told Cardona to look out for Melbr
un. The commissioner did not realize
that such instructions could nullify the trap, so far as the law was concerned.
But Five-face recognized it.
Like a flash, the slow-moving Fondelac became a human dynamo. With a sweep
of his left hand, he scooped all of Cranston's bonds from the table and jammed them underneath his coat. Spinning toward the stairway, he whipped his right hand from his coat tail, bringing out a revolver.
There was a murderous glint in the eyes of Five-face, as the supercrook began his sensational departure. He was ready to kill if either Commissioner Weston or Lamont Cranston made a single gesture to halt him!
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BANISHED TRAIL
UNTIL that instant, Five-face could not have known that Cranston was The Shadow. If he had, he would have shown his hand before. In all his guises, Five-face had encountered stern opposition from The Shadow, and could have asked nothing better than to slay his mortal foe in combat.
Had Cranston's hand gone for a gun, Five-face would have known what it meant. His own revolver already drawn, the master crook would have been prompt with the blast. It was impossible, under present conditions, for The Shadow to stop the pretended Count Fondelac.
Such a move, however, was possible for Cranston. He showed just what could
be done, in a very surprising style.
Cranston was seated; his hands, having laid aside the portfolio, were on the table edge. They clamped, as he made an upward, forward lunge. The light table came with him, launched in a powerful fling for the darting figure of Fondelac.
Completing that upward hurl, The Shadow ended it with a dive to the floor,
tripping Weston with a side-swinging foot.
Five-face didn't see that clever finish, which might have told him that Cranston was The Shadow. Half dodging, Five-face opened fire, splintering the cloth-covered table that was flying toward him. He thought that those bullets would reach the men beyond, not knowing that they had flattened beneath the level of his fire.
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