Cardona eyed Fred for a while; then gave an indifferent grunt.
"We'll find out all we want to know," he promised. Then, to Francine, he said: "What we want right now, Miss Melrue, is a description of the stolen jewels. Maybe I can get them back for you in a hurry."
Joe Cardona never fulfilled a promise more rapidly than he did that one. As Francine started to describe the gems, Cardona shoved his hand into his big overcoat pocket, to find a small note book that he carried there. His hand came out clutching a well-stuffed platinum purse.
"My platinum bag!" exclaimed Francine. "Where did you find it, inspector?"
Cardona's fingers clicked the clasp; the bag popped open. It almost fell from Joe's loosened hand. As the bag tilted, a flood of jewels went clattering to the table top, while Cardona gaped in complete amazement.
It never occurred to Joe Cardona that the bag had been neatly dropped into his pocket from the window of the very cab that had brought him here. Like other gifts from The Shadow, this one had come mysteriously, leaving no trace of its donor.
In Cardona's opinion, the real solution of a robbery came with the restoration of the stolen goods. That was why the ace had come here; to reclaim the missing Melrue jewels.
Thanks to The Shadow, Joe Cardona found the solution tucked in his pocket.
CHAPTER V. DUKE COLLECTS
THE next day found Joe Cardona still pondering over the mysterious return of the Melrue jewels. Joe had covered his own surprise by simply stating that he "happened across" the gems and brought them back to Francine.
The result had been some excellent newspaper write-ups, praising Cardona's cleverness. Around headquarters, everyone expected Joe to have a swelled head; but the ace remained modest and noncommittal.
If Cardona's success entitled him to a swelled head, Duke Unrig's failure should have given that big-shot a headache. Oddly, it didn't. Seated in a garish apartment, Duke Unrig was in the best of humor as he enjoyed a late breakfast of ham and eggs.
Duke was a husky individual with the build of an ox. His heavy, bushy-browed face was one that could glower on the slightest provocation. That made it all the more surprising when Duke chuckled over the newspaper that told of his broken crime.
A tough looking bodyguard announced two visitors: Wally Drillick and Cliff Marsland. Duke said to show them in. They arrived. Duke laughed heavily when he looked at Wally.
The smooth crook was haggard and unshaven, the clothes that he wore were cheap and baggy. Wally certainly made a pitiful contrast to his usually natty appearance.
Cliff Marsland was a well-built fellow, with chiseled features and a square-set jaw. His eyes had a coldness that went well with his poker-faced expression. Duke surveyed Cliff with approval; then introduced the visitors to each other.
"This is Wally Drillick," Duke told Cliff. "The guy the bulls are after, for trying to snatch the rocks that belonged to that Melrue dame."
To Wally, Duke stated:
"This is Cliff Marsland. I'm getting him to take over Nogger's job. I'll need a good guy on that trick."
Wally and Cliff shook hands. Wally had heard of Cliff; but had never met him before. Cliff, however, had seen Wally as recently as last night. Cliff was one of the two men who had stowed Wally in the basement of the empty house. Since Wally had been unconscious at the time, it was not surprising that he did not remember Cliff.
To the underworld, Cliff Marsland was a reputed killer; as tough and as dangerous a fighter as any big-shot would want for a lieutenant. Secretly, Cliff was an agent of The Shadow. He had been waiting for a long time to gain the opportunity of joining up with Duke Unrig. Nogger's death had provided the opening.
"WHAT soured the job?" queried Duke, addressing Wally. "I mean, before The Shadow breezed into the picture."
Wally gave the details of his capture. He remembered The Shadow's tactics in the cab. Later, Wally had awakened to find himself bound and gagged in an empty basement. It had taken him until dawn to get out of his bonds.
"I couldn't go around in a tux," completed Wally, "and I was too jittery to head back to the apartment.
So I cracked into a tailoring shop and ditched the glad rags. I took this suit instead."
"You must have been jittery," snorted Duke, "or you'd have picked a better fit! Well, Wally, the racket's finished, now that The Shadow is wise to it. Here" - Duke drew a sheaf of bank notes from his pocket -
"take this dough and lam!"
There was fully a thousand dollars in the wad. Wally muttered grateful thanks for Duke's generosity. The big-shot thumbed toward the door. His laughter had ended; his face was showing a glower, that indicated he might change his mind about the money. Wally made a hurried departure.
Duke's lips fixed in a hard, ugly smile.
"Just another guy that went yellow in the pinch," the big-shot said to Cliff. "It don't matter, though. I'm through with the fancy stuff. The Shadow's queered it! What Wally told me was worth the grand I paid him."
Duke drew a sheet of paper from a table drawer and wrote out details with a fountain pen. He folded the paper and put it in an envelope; gave it to the bodyguard. He said something that puzzled Cliff.
"That's the report on Wally," stated Duke. "There'll be a guy around to pick it up. It covers everything.
We know why the job was stalled. It wasn't Wally who slid into the dame's apartment. It was some stooge that The Shadow sent in Wally's place."
Why Duke had sent a report somewhere was something that Cliff could not understand. He knew that Duke was an independent big-shot who ran his own game and took orders from no one. Cliff hoped that Duke would explain further; but the big-shot had other things on his mind.
"A lot of big fellows have tried that high-class stuff," declared Duke, "and they've been running into trouble from The Shadow. Once that game gets cracked, it's through. Only I'm not washed up, like those other bimbos.
"I've been waiting for something like this to happen; and all the while, I've been set to play something different when the time came. I'm going to stage some old-style jobs; and I'm counting on you, Cliff.
What I needed was a guy as brainy as Wally and as hard-boiled as Nogger. You're the guy!"
DUKE produced a sheet of paper and began to draw a rough chart in pencil. The diagram showed streets and avenues in Manhattan. Duke drew a circle around a corner north of Times Square.
"This is the uptown branch of the Gotham Trust Company," explained the big-shot. "It stays open late on Friday nights. Takes in a lot of dough in deposits. Down here" - Duke ran his pencil to the vicinity of Twenty-third Street - "is the main bank. At ten o'clock every Friday night, an armored truck leaves the branch building and comes to the main banking offices."
Leaning back in his chair, Duke wagged the pencil and added, with a hard grin:
"That truck brings the dough. The finger men have been looking into it. They found out that two chain stores close their books on Friday afternoons and shove their cash into that branch bank. There's been an average of better than two hundred and fifty grand going downtown in that truck, every Friday!"
Cliff nodded as he studied the diagram. He pointed to the uptown circle.
"I get it," said Cliff. "You'll case this joint up here and tip me off when the trip starts. Down here" - Cliff tapped the lower circle - "I'll handle the truck when she shows up."
Duke reached across the table to deliver a hearty thwack on Cliff's shoulder.
"That's the way I like to hear a fellow talk," chuckled Duke. "You're ready to take the tough part of the job! Good stuff, Cliff! Only, I'm handling the job myself. Down here at Twenty-third Street. I'll have five men with me. Your job is to cover up with another crew, and see that we make a get-away."