“Possibly,” mused The Shadow, “Duncan thought that I was the impostor who calls himself The Shadow.”
“Possibly,” agreed the professor. “That, however, does not concern us. Let us forget Duncan, Mr. Cranston. Instead, picture my own position. I have always feared intruders here. Thieves — robbers — adventurers coming to steal my inventions. That is why I installed electric devices at every door.
“Duncan knew of the ones at front and back; but he did not know that I had also equipped the side door. Naturally, I was on guard after Duncan’s surprise departure. When you arrived tonight, you received the shock that I had prepared for my enemies.
“Having convinced me of your innocence, Mr. Cranston, you are entitled to my profound apology. I can assure you that your unpleasant experience will leave no ill after effects. But before you depart, I feel that we should come to a mutual understanding.”
The professor paused emphatically. He eyed the prisoner steadily. A fixed smile showed on The Shadow’s thin lips.
“I SUPPOSE, professor,” remarked The Shadow, calmly, “that you refer to the rather unusual circumstances which marked my visit here. I presume that you would prefer that they remain unmentioned.”
Professor Jark nodded soberly.
“Quite a logical request,” assured The Shadow. “I can readily appreciate your situation, professor. The very fact that you are still actively engaged in inventive effort is something which you do not care to have the public know.”
“Exactly! What is more, should the authorities begin prying into my affairs, I should be forced to go into lengthy, troublesome details. My work would be disturbed—”
“This matter, professor,” interposed The Shadow, rising, “does not concern the police whatever. I understand the point of your worriment. You require assurance that I shall not mention my experience to my friend, Acting Commissioner Barth.
“In fact” — the fixed smile was steady on The Shadow’s lips — “I feel that we both have mutual cause for indignation. Not only against your crooked secretary, but against the masquerader who calls himself The Shadow. If you, professor, could use one of your electrical devices to give that chap a lesson, I should be most gratified.
“Anything to rid me of his troublesome intrusion. He has annoyed me quite as much as Duncan has annoyed you. Well, professor” — The Shadow glanced at the clock upon the mantel — “it is considerably past midnight. Too late for me to visit the Cobalt Club. I should like to return home and call the club from there, simply to inform them that I was otherwise engaged this evening.”
The Shadow extended his hand. The professor received it in clawlike grasp. With his free hand, the old man clapped his prisoner upon the shoulder. Then Jark nodded to the crook servants.
“My men will drive you to New Jersey,” informed Jark. “I have a small sedan that will be suitable for the journey. Perhaps, Mr. Cranston” — the professor’s smile was subtle — “they may encounter this impostor who calls himself The Shadow. Should they do so, they will be instructed to bring him to me.
“I should like to talk with him; to inquire what he knows concerning Duncan’s treachery. Should I have the opportunity to talk with him, I shall convince him that it will be unwise for him to trouble you further.”
Professor Jark walked across the room and opened the closed door on the right. He watched his tall, leisurely, prisoner stroll out with a guard on each side. One of the gorillas looked back to catch a nod from Jark. The Shadow did not observe the professor’s order of assurance.
AS soon as the trio had left, Jark hurried back to the door on the left. The barrier opened as he approached it. Matt Theblaw stepped into view to give a commending nod.
“Good work, prof,” commended the tall crook. “You fixed Cranston, all right. He won’t do any squawking. He showed he was worried when he admitted he was in the wrong coming here.”
“He understands nothing about our plans,” assured Jark. “I watched him closely, Theblaw, all the while that I was speaking to him.”
“I’m following over to Jersey” — Matt made a gesture toward the doorway and three rowdies entered — “so we can clinch the proposition. Go on down, Louie, and slip this note to Pete.”
He handed a folded paper to one of the gorillas, who hurried through the far door after the pair who had conducted The Shadow.
“Tipping them off,” explained Matt, “so’s they’ll hang on to Cranston until after we’ve snatched The Shadow. That’s my part of the job. In the meantime, when you and Digger leave here, put in a call to the Cobalt Club. Give the message that Mr. Cranston has gone home. Tell them to pass that news to Barth. He’ll call New Jersey before he makes a visit here. So we won’t have any trouble.
“But, after all, why worry? Nobody knows anything. Just so long as we don’t have a search on for a wealthy guy like Cranston, there’s nothing to worry about. We covered the snatch when we grabbed Doc Baird. So if Cranston does any talking it won’t put anybody wise. Especially” — Matt spoke with assurance — “after we’ve got The Shadow.”
The tall crook crossed the room, followed by the other two gunmen. At the same moment, Digger Wight entered from the door on the left. Turning about, Professor Jark saw the little crook. With a dry smile, the old inventor joined Digger to prepare for their mutual departure.
IN a space behind the old house; The Shadow was smoking a cigarette as he sat in a coupe. Behind him, in the rumble seat, was one of the thugs whom Jark had termed a “servant.” The other rowdy was at the wheel. A man came up in the darkness and passed a folded slip to the driver. It was Louie, contacting Pete.
The driver read the note by the dashlight. He tore up the paper and growled his understanding. Louie stepped away; Pete shoved the car in gear and drove off. The Shadow, half reclining, could see Pete’s eyes watching him in the mirror.
From behind came the roar of another motor. A glance in the mirror gave The Shadow a glimpse of a second car following the first. The thin smile remained fixed upon The Shadow’s lips.
It was still wise to continue his ruse. A horde of enemies was still concentrated upon him. He saw that it would be well to prolong the game, postponing action until his captors were totally off guard.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SHADOW’S THRUST
“WE’RE going to stage it like a phony snatch, see?”
Matt Theblaw growled this news to the men with whom he was riding. Seated in the rear of a sedan, the tall crook was leaning over the back of the front seat, watching the tail-light of the coupe ahead. Louie was at the wheel of Matt’s car.
“The whole thing will look like a bum job,” continued Matt. “But it won’t be. Because there are two guys who look like they were each other. Just as much as if they were twins. When we grab the new bimbo, Pete drops the old one. That’s all.”
Matt paused to poke Louie’s shoulder. Pete’s coupe was drawing ahead past a turn in the road. Matt wanted the driver of the sedan to keep closer. Louie stepped on the gas.
“We don’t want a squawk,” explained Matt, “so we’re going after this guy in a hurry. No fireworks, unless he yanks a gat. But he don’t know we’re after him, so that gives us an edge. When you fellows snatch him, Louie and I will be sitting back with our rods. We’ll pump him if he gets tough.”
Louie chuckled.
“Bet you we will,” he volunteered. “Say, Matt — the way you talk about it, you’d figure this mug we’re after was The Shadow.”
Chuckles from the other mobsters. They liked the jest. Matt maintained silence. He had not wised his men to the identity of their prey. Only Digger and the professor had shared Matt Theblaw’s knowledge. There was no reason to give the information to these yeggs.