The Living Shadow s-1 Read online

  The man with the jewel box strode across the room and moved the bloody face with his foot.

  “Say,” he cried. “I know who this is!”

  “Who?”

  “That phony taxi driver I told you about!”

  The men were on their feet.

  “Maybe it’s The Shadow!” exclaimed Jake.

  “It ain’t The Shadow,” was the reply from the lips of English Johnny. “No, sir. It ain’t The Shadow. But this fellow is a bad egg.”

  “What’ll we do with him?” inquired Tony.

  “Bump him off,” suggested Spotter.

  “One moment,” interrupted Ezekiel Bingham. “This is serious business. Do not talk of murder. Let us say, instead, that it would be advisable to dispose of this man purposely. Now, who will do it?”

  “I grabbed him,” declared Jake. “I’ve done my share.”

  “How about you, Tony?”’

  “Swell, I can do it; but I don’t have a car to lug him away in.”

  “Spotter?”

  The little man shook his head.

  “You’re right,” he affirmed. “This ain’t no foolishness. I ain’t no hand at bumpin’ ‘em off.”

  Ezekiel Bingham looked questioningly at English Johnny.

  “So it’s up to me, eh?” laughed the big man. “Up to English Johnny? Well, I’ll take care of him. I ain’t saying what I’m going to do with him. Maybe I’ll give him a job in a lunch wagon - and maybe I won’t.

  “Now, I’ll steer you fellows right. I’m leaving now. Lay him in the back of my car, leaning against the door. Now, I’m going by a road that goes over a long bridge, nobody there at night - and the water there is forty foot deep.

  “It ain’t too far from here, and it ain’t too near. Now suppose I should happen to open that back door right where the bridge curves -“

  He stopped. The others nodded in approbation of his scheme.

  While the men had been discussing his fate, Harry Vincent had regained consciousness. He suppressed a groan as he opened his eyes and saw the leering face of English Johnny. His eyes shut again.

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  ENGLISH JOHNNY DEPARTS

  The men gathered around Vincent’s body and openly expressed their admiration of English Johnny’s scheme.

  “It takes nerve to do it, through,” asserted Spotter. “English Johnny’s got nerve, boys, and don’t forget it.”

  The big man smiled at the compliment.

  “Yes,” he said, “I got nerve; and what’s more, I got it in for this fellow. I oughta been here when you caught him. I’d like to pound him a bit, but it ain’t no use now since you fellows finished the job.”

  Jake suggested that heavy stones be tied to the body of the prisoner. This was done, and more rope was employed to truss the body so that it would roll easily when released.

  Harry had again lapsed into unconsciousness. His mind was spared the details of this scene.

  “Outside with him, boys,” came the order in the voice of English Johnny. “No lights, though. Put him in the car; lean him against the door on the right.”

  “How about in front?” questioned Jake.

  “No. In back. Better there. I’ve got a long arm. I can reach it.”

  Tony and Jake lifted Harry and started to lug him to the door. The added weight of the stones caused trouble. They were removed, and Spotter carried the stones to the car, where they were attached again.

  “I think he’s dead already,” whispered Jake, looking at Harry’s face.

  “So much the better,” said Tony. “Just a case of dropping the body, then.”

  They saw Ezekiel Bingham coming to the car with English Johnny. The big man had the jewel case. He tucked it in the pocket of the front door.

  “Right handy there,” he remarked.

  English Johnny entered the car, pressed the starter, and the motor began to hum. He turned the automobile on the grass, and the headlights gleamed upon the four men. English Johnny clicked them off again.

  He stopped the car at the end of the walk that led to the front steps, and as his companions gathered close he leaned from the window so that his face joined them in the darkness.

  “Leave it to me,” he said. “English Johnny will do the work. This here in the back seat - one second does the trick. You forget all about it, because I’m going to forget it. Then I’ll be in New York, and you can bet that those sparklers will be in the right hands before midnight.

  “But I’m going to tell you something you don’t know. I saved this to surprise you. Didn’t want to start a lot of excitement while we had other things on our minds.”

  Even Ezekiel Bingham drew closer. The old Lawyer sensed that he would hear amazing news. Something in the tone of English Johnny’s voice indicated it.

  “Listen,” said the man at the wheel “You know this Shadow we talked about? He’s real, all right. He’s real, and I know where he is.”

  “Where?” asked Spotter.

  “Right where you can get him.” The voice of English Johnny was low and definite. “Bring a lantern, Tony, and follow me. Then I’ll explain.”

  The man hurried to the house and returned with the light. It revealed English Johnny’s face, grinning with a knowing, sinister smile.

  “The Shadow is real, boys,” repeated the man in the car, “and what’s more, he was here tonight. But he’s not the fellow here in back. He’s laying up yonder by the house.

  “Wait! Don’t go yet! He’s safe where he is. How he got here, I don’t know. It was dark; I don’t even know what his face is like. I know he was The Shadow, though, because he came out of the night just like a shadow; and he landed on me. But he met his match this time. Met his match when he tackled English Johnny.

  “You got this fellow that we put in back. I promised to get rid of him for you. Well, I caught The Shadow. I’m leaving him to you. It’s up to you to finish him. That makes it a bargain. Will you do it?”

  “Yes,” declared Spotter, bringing his face into the light. “What did you do with him?”

  “Knocked him cold,” was the sneering answer. “He may be dead for all I know. Strapped him with his own belt, and mine, too - it’s a trick I can do quick. Gagged him with his own handkerchief. There he is, waiting for you, done up like a suitcase, right where I nabbed him. Take a peek at him, all of you. Tell me what he looks like. He’s right there besides the steps; right where he popped out and tried to jump on me!”

  Jake had run to the steps and found the human form.

  “Here he is,” he called. “Bring the light, Tony!”

  Tony hurried with the lantern. Jake was holding the prisoner’s body; the light shone down upon the muffled face. Spotter was leaning forward with eager eyes. This man who knew so many faces was anxious to recognize the one that he had never seen. Ezekiel Bingham peered from behind the others.

  “Pull off the handkerchief,” they heard English Johnny call from the car. “See what he looks like!”

  Spotter’s hand jerked the gag down to the neck of the huddled form. There was silence for an instant, then the lantern swayed in Tony’s hand. None of the four men could speak.

  The first cry came from Spotter.

  “It’s English Johnny!”

  The realization of what had happened burst upon them. But as they stood stunned by their unbelievable discovery, the car at the end of the walk shot suddenly forward, whirled off along the makeshift road toward the lane that led to safety.

  The truth had dawned upon Ezekiel Bingham and his crew of gangsters as they grouped about the limp bulk of their comrade, English Johnny.

  The Shadow must have overpowered English Johnny before the big man had been able to enter the building. Then it was The Shadow, disguised as English Johnny, who had talked with them, and to whom they had given the box of gems. It was The Shadow who had agreed to murder the man they had captured at the window!

  And it was The Shadow now who was driving away in English Johnny’s car; The Shadow wh
o had deceived them; despoiled them; and who was mocking them.

  For from the swiftly moving sedan came a peal of taunting laughter; a long, loud laugh that echoed through the night and died away among the trees.

  CHAPTER XXXV

  AT HEADQUARTERS

  “Saturday night,” said Inspector John Malone. “The end of another week.”

  He emphasized each word as he spoke, sitting at the table, his eyes staring vacantly at the wall before him.

  “And it’s the last week, Malone.”

  The voice was that of Joe Cardona, the detective.

  “Are you trying to make it harder for me, Joe?” asked the man at the table reprovingly.

  “Certainly not, inspector. I’m with you to the last minute. But that last minute is midnight. You know that.”

  “You’re right, Joe. I’m through, all right. One hour more and it’s demotion - maybe worse.”

  Cardona moved slightly from his position near the window.

  “It’s all in the game,” he remarked. “All in the game, Malone; but it’s tough, just the same. I feel like I was responsible for it, too.”

  “Don’t say that, Joe.”

  “I can’t help it. This Laidlow case has been your finish. If we could have found anything at all, it might have worked out. But not a clew - not the trace of a clew.”

  “You were up against it, Joe. You couldn’t help it. But it is tough to lose out this way.”

  “Well, there wasn’t anything in that Chinese idea. You have my report. I went through the chink district and did it right. But I couldn’t find a thing.”

  “Maybe the crook still has the jewels, Joe.”

  “Not a chance, Malone. No crook will hold onto them this long. Especially a small-fry burglar like the fellow we think cracked the safe. It isn’t the murderer I’ve been after lately; it’s the gems. If we could bring in those sparklers, we’d have something. You would be the big noise on the force, inspector.”

  “Why talk of that, Joe? Only an hour more and I’m through.”

  “Why don’t you go home, old man? This is no place for you tonight.”

  “The boys know I’m through, Joe. I want them to know that I’m standing by to the finish.”

  The detective shrugged his shoulders.

  “If there was only some way, Joe,” pleaded the man at the table. “Just some way to start something - I won’t get the news until Monday, you know; but I go off duty tonight, and it’s my last chance.”

  The detective began to pace up and down the floor.

  “You know, Malone,” he said suddenly, “I believe you were right about some big mind being behind this. That’s just why we’re up against it. If there is a big mind in back of it, Diamond Bert Farwell was just a beginner compared to this fellow. Why, we can’t get anything from either end. No clew from the murder; no trace of the stuff.”

  Malone eyed the Italian thoughtfully.

  “I figured that right from the start, Joe,” he said. “There’s more than one hand in this, but the stolen goods will reach the hand that’s behind it. Do you know what I think? I believe the fellow is so clever that even if we found the gems on him, we wouldn’t be able to convict him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’d have to prove how he got them. Like as not he’s put himself in a position of an honest man. We could arrest him, all right; but he’d have some alibi - some way out of it.”

  “Probably. But why worry? It won’t be your job to get him, Malone. I hate to talk this way. You’re the best inspector we’ve ever had.”

  “Well, Joe, I’m here for the last night, anyway. It isn’t the job that matters, though. Every one knows I’m here. The boys know I’m no quitter. But the hard part is that I’ve failed. I hope you never go through it, Joe.”

  The detective slapped his hand against his superior’s shoulder.

  “I’m sticking here, too,” he said. “It may not mean much, because you’re going to lose out and I’m not. But I’ll be here to say good night when you leave at midnight.”

  Malone glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past eleven. The phone bell rang. He lifted the receiver listlessly.

  “What’s that?… I can’t understand you… Yes. This is Inspector Malone. You’re in a hurry? Calling from out on Long Island, eh?”

  He passed the telephone to the detective.

  “Hello,” said the Italian. “What?”

  His eyes glistened with interest. Sharp, quick words came from his lips. He glanced sideways at Malone. The inspector was resting his elbow on the table, his cheek upon his hand.

  The detective was talking excitedly.

  “Go on… Yes… Yes… I got you… Better tell me who you are… No? Well, I’ll take a chance on it, anyway.”

  He slammed down the receiver and dove for his coat.

  “What’s up, Joe?” asked Malone in sudden interest.

  “I can’t wait to tell you,” shouted the Italian, shaking his fists in wild excitement. “Can’t waste time, Malone. It’s a tip-off - a tip-off on the Laidlow jewels. It may have been a crank - maybe it wasn’t. I’ve got the men downstairs. We’ve just got time. A long way to go and a short time before midnight.”

  He dashed from the room.

  Inspector Malone slumped back in the chair. After all, why should he worry? He had been disappointed before on this case. Now, at the eleventh hour, there had been a tip-off - and it would mean nothing.

  The Laidlow jewels! Perhaps Joe Cardona would find them some day, but Inspector Malone would not be around when he did.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE GEMS’ DELIVERY

  A man strolled up the street in front of Wang Foo’s tea shop. Something bulged beneath his coat. He glanced cautiously right and left before he entered the building. The street was deserted; it usually was at eleven thirty, especially on a Saturday night, when most persons were occupied elsewhere.

  Loo Choy stared without interest when he saw the big man enter. He had seen the man before; why should he be interested? Life was tiresome here at Wang Foo’s; in fact, Loo Choy had been moping for two days because his cousin, Ling Chow, had gone back to the place called Yonkers.

  The big man stopped at the counter and looked at Loo Choy. From beneath his coat he drew a box and set it in front of the Chinaman. Then he beckoned with his finger. Loo Choy advanced to see what was wanted.

  The red-faced man extended his hands and clutched Loo Choy by the neck. With a powerful movement he swept the little Chinaman upon the counter. A piece of rope lay handy.

  In less than two minutes the guardian of Wang Foo’s tea shop lay helpless, with a gag in his mouth.

  The big man lifted him with ease and deposited him in a convenient resting place, out of sight behind a stack of tea boxes. He walked calmly through the shop and found the door at the back.

  He stepped back in the corner, and, extended his long arm, rapped four times upon the door.

  The panel opened. A face appeared - the face of one of the giant Mongols who guarded the stairway to Wang Foo’s sanctum. The Chinaman peered through the door. Seeing nothing, he thrust his head through the opening. A firm hand slapped against the top of his head and pressed his throat against the bottom of the open panel. The Chinaman emitted a choking gasp.

  The big man released him. The guard slumped inside the door. Then a hand reached in and found the latch. The door was opened and the visitor stepped in.

  He walked boldly up the stairs and strode into the room of Wang Foo. The old Chinaman looked up from the desk. “Ah,” he exclaimed, in his evenly spoken English. “My friend. My friend, Johnny.”

  “None other.”

  “I note a box beneath your arm. Do I understand that you have brought me -“

  “You’re exactly right, Wang Foo. Take a look.”

  He laid the box on the table and lifted the lid. The glittering array of jewels would have brought a cry of amazement from the most lethargic person; but not even an expressi
on of interest appeared on the face of the Chinaman.

  “Spread ‘em out,” said the visitor, removing some of the jewels and placing them on the desk. “What do you think of them, Wang Foo?”

  “Excellent,” replied the Chinaman, in expressionless tones. “They are very good. They are worth the price that I have agreed to pay for them.”

  “Thought you’d like ‘em. The old boy got hold of them quicker than he expected. I got a note from him the same night I was here - after I’d gone home. So we got together in a hurry; and here they are.”

  “I trust your meeting was held in a wisely chosen spot,” said Wang Foo with a faint smile.

  “Don’t kid me, Wang Foo. You know the old boy well enough to bank on that. Besides, I bet you know all about it. Where we got together, I mean.”

  Wang Foo did not reply. He was examining some of the precious stones.

  “Well, I pulled the trick,” said the big man. “English Johnny came through with the goods. Say, Wang Foo, where are your big chinks tonight? You oughta have them around with all those sparklers on your hands.”

  He strode to the curtained wall as he spoke, and brushed the covering aside.

  “One of my men was downstairs,” remarked Wang Foo. “Did you not see him?”

  “Sure I saw that fellow. He knew me and let me come up. But you ought to have your other blokes with you.”

  “I do not need them.”

  “Why?”

  In reply Wang Foo pushed a button on his desk. A portion of the wall revolved on a pivot, five feet to the Chinaman’s right.

  “That leads up into the house,” he said, with his thin smile, “Before any one could enter this room, I would be gone.”

  The big white man marched across the room and glanced through the curtained doorway. Then he turned as though making an entrance, and looked at Wang Foo.

  “You’re right,” he said. “Nobody would have a chance to get you. You could hop out all right. But what about the jewels? You couldn’t take them with you.”

  “Step forward, Johnny. Come this way.”

  The red-faced man obeyed.

  “Now look behind you,” said Wang Foo.