“How do you figure that, Matt? That gun stunt ain’t goin’ to work. An’ if it does, how’ll we use it?”
“We’re getting the benefit of it right now. The improved coils that the prof fixed for his gun were just the ticket for this machine. I had him put a set of them in the disintegrator. That’s why it’s moving so fast.”
Already, the machine had eaten so deep a hole that Matt was crawling in to keep it going forward. Digger, crawling after, kept up conversation while they worked.
“LOUIE’S seein’ Cully?” questioned the dynamiter.
“Sure,” replied Matt. “Luke’s staging the stunt; but Cully’s covering. This is one job we don’t need any cover up for, So it leaves Cully loose.”
“And we’ll have him waitin’ after tonight, until we pull other jobs.”
“Other jobs nothing. We’re through with this business after we clean out Reisert’s vault. When we land Marsland, we’ll have a line on The Shadow. Luke’s going to be with us from now on; between him and me, we’ll figure a way to get The Shadow after Marsland talks.”
“Goin’ to put the heat on Marsland in a hurry?”
“We’ll take our time, maybe. It all depends. But I’ve got other ideas, Digger. I think the prof will like them. We’ll be close to a million, after we make this haul.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Yeah, but not enough. But it fixes us so we can lay off New York.”
“And hit around the country?”
“No. Take a trip abroad. The prof was suggesting that we ought to make another move. Maybe he’s right. We could go to London, for instance, live swell, and figure how we could take a crack at some joint like the Bank of England.”
“But the prof’s goin’ to be missed. And Baird—”
“That’s just it. If the prof writes Tellert from England, saying he’s quit inventing, and sending dough to pay off the investors with a profit, that whole business can be settled nice, without anybody getting wise. See the idea?”
“But won’t Tellert have to say the prof is phony?”
“Why? He’s got a reputation, hasn’t he? He’d be acting dumb to shoot it, wouldn’t he? It’s the natural way out for him as a promoter. He’ll tell his clients that the prof is where he can’t be reached. An unproven swindle, with money returned, won’t allow a chance for extradition. What Tellert will do will be to talk things over with his clients. They’ll all be glad to get better than an even break when they realize how eccentric the prof has been.”
“What about the sawbones?”
“Baird? The prof can handle him. You remember how we listened in while they talked.”
“The prof sure handed out the soft soap.”
“The old boy’s sure been warmin’ up as we go along. I thought he was kind of goofy at first, when he began spillin’ his ideas. But the way he’s stepped up is somethin’ nifty.”
“I’ll say it is! Look at this new baby burn!”
THE improved ray machine had been going steadily onward; Matt and Digger had followed it well beneath the street. They were more than halfway to their goal — the rear of Montague Reisert’s mansion.
Digger crawled back through the hole. He was gone for a dozen minutes. When he returned, it was with the news that Pike’s men had arrived. These were all members of the gang that was hiding out with Matt and Digger at Professor Jark’s new headquarters.
Matt told Digger to stand by. A few more minutes passed. The glow from the machine began to widen, forming an aura around the edges. Matt clicked off the switch. Waiting a few moments, he turned the machine edgewise and flashed a torch.
They had reached Reisert’s lowest vault. Locked cabinets showed where the swag was housed. Matt entered. Breaking a lock, he opened a cabinet to reveal stacks of golden dishes that looked like mammoth coins. Matt blinked the light through the tunnel.
Digger and the helpers came through the shaft. Sacks were laid flat on the floor. Mobsters set to work on each cabinet that Matt cracked. Spoils, literally worth their weight in gold, were passing into the hands of these lawless raiders.
The rifling required fifteen minutes. Matt, the last to leave, passed Digger in the cellar of the old house. The little crook had brought in new boxes from the truck, handling them gingerly. He was ready to set the charges.
Outside, Matt found the golden harvest stored in the truck that now had Pennsylvania license plates. He took two mobsters aboard; the rest joined Pike in the car that was to serve as rear guard. Matt waited at the wheel of the truck until Digger joined him.
The truck rolled away at a signal from Bevo on the sidewalk. The patrolman, Henderson, had passed ten minutes before, suspecting nothing. At the corner of the avenue, Matt blinked the tail-light. Bevo gave a signal to Pike. The car — a sedan — rolled out to the street and Bevo sprang aboard.
A dozen minutes later, the loaded truck was chugging through upper Manhattan. A hidden spare tire had been fitted on the rear wheel during the stay at the parking lot. That had been Pike’s job. The old dilapidated vehicle was actually much more powerful than its appearance indicated.
Digger’s time-fuse was a slow one tonight. There was no need for rapid results, since a cover-up crew was absent. The blast was due to go an hour after the crooks had made their get-away. Then the police would have a new dynamite mystery on their hands.
Matt Theblaw was chuckling at the wheel of the truck. But the tall crook was not thinking about the coming explosion. He was considering events that were due to happen elsewhere.
For, as a climax to successful robbery, another important piece of business was in the making. Luke Cardiff was due to spring a fast one that would leave The Shadow guessing.
CHAPTER XVII
THE TRAP SPRINGS
WHILE Matt Theblaw and Digger Wight were wending from their latest scene of crime, Cliff Marsland, agent of The Shadow, was at the beginning of what he believed would be a successful trail.
Cliff was again a visitor in the office of Luke Cardiff. The gambler was passing him news that promised to be important. For Luke was emphatic in his statement that he had located Bats Dilladay, mob leader so recently in stir.
“Bats is no dummy,” said Luke to Cliff. “He’s got a real hideout. But there’s a way to reach him. You know where Crazy Tochler’s pool room is?”
Cliff nodded. The place was well known. It was a joint near the Bowery. “Crazy” Tochler, the proprietor, was an ex-pug who had been punch-drunk from so many bouts that he had apparently gone half goofy. He had invested earnings in a pool room, which had promptly become a loafing place for toughs.
“Bugs has a lookout posted there,” resumed Luke, referring to the pool room. “Go down to the joint and let a quarter hit the sidewalk when you’re going in. A guy will grab it up for you.”
“What then?”
“You’ll hear him say: ‘Here’s your two bits.’ That’s his password. And you say: ‘Two bits? I thought it was a dime.’”
Cliff nodded. A man dropping a quarter accidently might mistake it for a nickel but not a ten cent piece. Cliff could guess what would follow; but he listened to make sure.
“The guy will walk away,” explained Luke. “You go along, too. He’ll tip you off to the hideout and how to let Bats know a friend is coming in.”
Concluding, Luke gave a nudge toward the door. It was time for Cliff to be starting. The Shadow’s agent strolled out and left by way of the gambling room.
Hardly had Cliff departed before Luke Cardiff sprang to his feet. He opened a door at the side of the room. It was a passage that afforded a private exit. Cully Freer was standing there, grinning.