Desks and tables were ancient, yet in perfect condition. The inner office was floored by an Oriental rug that Dokeby probably regarded as a prize possession. The Shadow’s chief interest, however, lay in the safe that stood in the corner.
ALTHOUGH its paint was unscratched, this safe was of a vintage even older than the strong box in the penthouse of Theobald Luftus. It was further proof that lawyer Dokeby was a fossilized individual whose ideas of modern mechanics had stagnated during the gay nineties.
The merest apprentice among modern cracksmen could have tapped that safe with ease. Beak Latzo and his henchmen were coming to find a set-up. A made-to-order job that represented the utmost in simplicity.
It seemed plain to The Shadow, however, that Dokeby used this safe but little. It looked like a storage place for ordinary records that would be of no value to marauders. Probably the old attorney kept his funds and important documents in some safe-deposit vault.
Temporary circumstances alone had made the safe the repository for huge funds. Dokeby, unwitting that his safe was junk, but knowing that his possession of the funds was a matter unknown to the public, had probably decided that there would be no danger in keeping the wealth here for delivery to the library committee.
Men of crime were headed here tonight. The Shadow had learned that fact. He knew, through his agents, that henchmen would be posted on the front street. That was why he had chosen the rear entrance. The path along the roof would also offer a quick mode of departure.
Here in this office, The Shadow had found opportunity to trap Beak Latzo and whoever might come with the dangerous mobleader. The Shadow had left the details of action until his arrival on the scene. Hence his survey of Dokeby’s inner office was sufficient cause for whispered mirth from The Shadow’s hidden lips.
WHILE echoes of a soft, sibilant laugh still clung to the room, The Shadow approached Dokeby’s safe and began to turn the dial. Head close to the steel door, he could hear the click of the dropping tumblers.
Slowly, easily, The Shadow continued his manipulation.
The door of the safe swung open. Using a tiny flashlight, The Shadow probed the interior.
The stabbing glare showed neatly arranged stacks of letters and legal papers. One sheet alone was out of place. This was a dusty document that had drifted loose from a high stack at the right. The single sheet had dropped upright above smaller piles of letters.
Evidently some one — possibly Dokeby — had dropped the final pile of letters at the right and the top sheet had fluttered free.
That interested The Shadow. His gloved hands raised the stack at the right. The move resulted in a prompt discovery.
The stack was supported by half a dozen brick-shaped bundles. These were covered with heavy wrapping paper, and they were tied with heavy cord. The knots were gummed with thick chunks of sealing wax, which bore the impression of a metal stamp that The Shadow had noted on Dokeby’s desk.
These bundles were the only objects other than letters and typewritten or printed documents. The bundles were alike, with one exception: The topmost package at the left displayed a tear in its paper wrapper.
Folding the torn paper back, The Shadow saw what he had expected. Through the opening in the paper he viewed the green-printed surface of an engraved bond; the top member of a thick packet.
These bundles contained the boodle. An easy grab for arriving crooks. It was plain that they could bag the swag and make a prompt get-away, leaving the useless documents that formed the remaining contents of the safe.
Two courses lay open to The Shadow. One was to leave the wealth here as bait and trap the crooks when they obtained it. The other was to remove the bundles and let the raiders find an empty nest.
Before deciding on either course, The Shadow found interest in that single sheet of paper that had fluttered from the stack of letters. The flashlight, guarded in front of The Shadow’s stooped form, showed that sheet of paper as a printed document that was slightly soiled and dusty.
Plucking the sheet with gloved hand, The Shadow examined its printing. It was nothing more than an ordinary legal release, a printed form that resembled others in Dokeby’s safe. It might have been dropped at random on the stack from which it had fallen.
Turning over the sheet, The Shadow made a discovery. On the back, at each side, were the impressions of finger-tips, barely discernible to the keen eyes that studied them. Apparently, some one had picked up this sheet, glanced at it, then dropped it.
Carefully, The Shadow folded the printed paper and placed it beneath his cloak. A soft laugh sounded hollow, caught by the confining walls of the safe. The Shadow’s gloved fingers picked up the bundle that had a tear in its upper side.
Extinguishing his flashlight, The Shadow arose. His gloved hands squeezed the bundle in viselike grip as he moved toward Dokeby’s desk. Fingers managed to move the cord over one end of the bundle.
Carefully, The Shadow opened the unsealed portion of the packet and drew its contents halfway from the sheathing wrapper.
Turning the bundle over, The Shadow saw another bond on the under surface. He riffled the ends of the papers in between, as one would do with a pack of playing cards. A soft, knowing laugh of discovery crept through the room.
A bond at the top. A bond at the bottom. Between the two lay a thick stack of blank paper!
SLOWLY, carefully, The Shadow pushed the worthless mass back into its sheath. Again a powerful grip enabled him to slide the stout cord back in place.
He carried the bundle to the safe and put it where he found it, the torn side of the wrapper still upward.
Again, The Shadow laughed. His keen brain was making a rapid deduction.
Finger prints on the printed legal form indicated that some one had surreptitiously examined the contents of this safe. The torn wrapper of the uppermost bundle was proof that a person had removed the real swag and left wrapped packets of blank paper in its place.
That top bundle with its cunning tear was intended to deceive any one who might pry into Dokeby’s safe.
The lawyer himself had not done the deed. The committee that would receive the bundles could not be deceived, for the bundles would be opened by that same committee. Those faked packets were here to fool people who would not take time to examine them. Beak Latzo and his crew!
A double cross? The Shadow’s laugh was negative. Chances were that Beak would forward the bundles unopened. Dokeby, whether he suspected crime or not, would have no need of bluffing crooks who would later find that they had been duped.
To The Shadow, the key lay in the important fact that Beak Latzo was working for another person, as evidenced by the letters that had come to Beak in Steve Zurk’s scrawl. Another point was the trouble that Beak had encountered in his attack on Theobald Luftus.
Beak’s mob had been ordered to come here tonight, to cover Beak when he grabbed the swag. Beak was an instrument, not the brain behind the game. Hence plans could have been changed without Beak’s knowledge.
Some one had come here before The Shadow’s arrival. That person had tapped Dokeby’s safe. A simple job. The same intruder had taken the real swag. But he had left the dummy packages — obviously the boodle— so that Beak would go through with his job.
Had it been too late to inform Beak of the change in plans? Was the purpose to make the rifling of the safe look like a mob job? Another negative laugh from The Shadow. Beak, like the man ahead of him, would be able to tap this safe without leaving traces.
A momentary pause. Then came another whispered tone of mirth. It bore a strange touch. As The Shadow laughed, he swung up from the safe, pressed the big door shut and spun the dial with gloved fingers.
With a swift sweep, he headed toward the windows. Lights from the garage roof showed automatics looming in his hands.