"All right now, sir," said the officer. "He was lucky that he didn't get killed. He got caught in the middle of a mean gunfight. They were battling in and out of his car. Go right up, doctor." Savette went into the house and ascended the stairs. He arrived at Glade Tremont's bedroom, and entered to find the lawyer propped up on a stack of pillows.
No one else was in the room. A glass and bottle of medicine indicated that another physician had left. Quietly, Savette closed the door and sat down beside the bed.
"I received your message," he said, in a low voice. "They told me you wanted me here — as your physician. This is a professional call."
He smiled, then added reflectively:
"It is fortunate you managed to communicate with me before midnight."
"I am fortunate to be here myself," returned Tremont. "We struck a Tartar tonight, Gerald. We finished him, though. That's one satisfaction."
"Tell me about it."
Briefly, Tremont narrated the events up to the time of The Shadow's mad flight. That was the point at which the lawyer's observation had ceased. Skipping the story of the fight on the dock, Tremont came to what had happened afterward.
"When I came to," he said, "they were dragging me out of the coupe. I couldn't figure where I was at first — then I realized I was on the little dock at the end of the old lane. The policeman recognized me. He knew my car, too. It didn't take me long to think up the right sort of story."
"Which was—"
"That I had driven down to the dock to look at the Sound. Just as I was turning the coupe, two cars came swinging down the lane, one in pursuit of the other. Then the guns started.
Gangsters, battling. Two of them piled into the car. Something hit me on the head. I dropped — and that's the last I knew about it."
"A good alibi," declared Savette, nodding
"A perfect one," said Tremont. "Accepted without question."
"Why is the policeman here?"
"Just to see I'm all right," smiled Tremont. "He will be leaving soon. I called Biff Towley while you were on your way here."
"Yes?" Savette's eyebrows betrayed his eagerness to hear about the gang leader's report.
"He didn't talk long," declared Tremont, "but he told me all I want to know. One of his men nailed The Shadow. He was on top of my car.
"He smashed Biff in the face with his revolver. No shots left, evidently. Then one of Biff's mob fired pointblank, and The Shadow fell from the end of the dock."
"How did Biff's mob fare?"
"Badly. Jake Bosch was killed. Some others, too. Nearly all were wounded. That man was a fighter — but the odds were too great."
"Amazing — his scheme of posing as you. I don't think it could have deceived me, however."
"He entered through a cellar window," observed Tremont. "Captured one of Biff's men and tied him up. The fellow managed to get free, just about the time they were bringing me back from the dock.
"I'm glad about that; it wouldn't be well for him to be down there now — or even in this vicinity. He arrived at Biff's headquarters and told him all about it."
Doctor Savette became pensive. He seemed to be reviewing the scattered details of tonight's events. He was picturing the battle on the pier. He nodded slowly as though a definite thought was coming to him.
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of raindrops that began to spatter on the sloping roof outside of Tremont's window. Savette noticed that the window was open slightly.
The noise of the rainfall became a heavy torrent. It had been cloudy ever since the afternoon; now a storm was breaking.
Savette gazed idly at the blackened window; then he resumed his meditation. Now, it was Tremont who interrupted. The lawyer emitted a low, gleeful chuckle.
"It worked out for the best," he declared. "It was a stalemate; now the game is ours. We can take our time. As for that fellow Marsland—"
Tremont made a gesture to indicate that Cliff would be obliterated from the horizon.
Savette shook his head.
"Don't act too quickly, Glade," he advised, in a crafty tone. "We can never be too sure. I agree with you that we can take our time. But I am not yet satisfied that The Shadow is dead."
"There's no doubt about it. Biff talked with the man who shot him."
"People do not always die when they are shot. If The Shadow is dead, I want to be sure of it. Wait until they find his body, drifting in the Sound."
"They may never find it," answered Tremont. "There are heavy currents along this part of the shore. You cannot count on that."
"I am not counting on anything," asserted Savette. "That is the very point I am trying to make you consider. You are right when you say the game is ours. We want to keep it ours."
"How?"
"By continuing to hold Marsland. We have him safe. You gave The Shadow your ultimatum. So long as Marsland lives, we are protected, even though The Shadow may have escaped."
"That is right," acquiesced Tremont. "Marsland can do no harm; he may be useful if we keep him. We have too much at stake to allow a single loophole. You took chances tonight. You are lucky to be alive. Be guided by my advice from now on."
Tremont realized the wisdom of Savette's remarks. He sensed that his colleague in crime was about to propose a definite plan. He listened intently.
"You need a vacation," declared Savette, assuming a professional air. "I suggest that you go away for a trip. Destination unannounced. Actually, it will be Glendale.
"Take Biff Towley with you. Put him in charge of forces up there. Forget New York for a while. Concentrate on getting results through Orlinov.
"We have accomplished what we set out to do. Our past is covered. There are only two who have ever tried to interfere — Sharrock and The Shadow. We drove the first away. We have apparently killed the second.
"I shall remain in New York. You will be with Orlinov, making sure that all goes well. With Towley in charge of the guards there can be no mutiny, nor easing of the watch. Then Orlinov can drive those slaves of his. Make them produce."
There was a steely glint in Savette's eyes as he concluded his statement. Tremont chuckled.
"Orlinov knows how to drive" declared the lawyer. "He is getting results as effectively as possible. He is handicapped by only one item. Money."
"I know that," said Savette thoughtfully. "I intend to rectify that situation. I can do it better alone, at present. Our real work is ended. It was difficult with the others, because we had set our minds on the ones we wanted. But money—"
He laughed knowingly. Tremont saw a new sparkle in the physician's eyes.
"Sharrock crossed us," added Savette. "Otherwise, we might not have started on our new venture. If we had him now, we would be all right. But it would be dangerous to go after him. There are easier ways; and I can find one."
"The need is imminent," declared Tremont.
"I understand that," said Savette. "Nevertheless, we must not be hasty. Give me three weeks — perhaps a month. By then I shall have a perfect plan. It may take me less time. When I need assistance, I shall communicate with you."
"Have you found any suitable persons as yet?"
"Several," said Savette, "but each one presents an obstacle. That is why I have been waiting. It would be a grave mistake to choose one, then find another who would prove more profitable. We want the one who will be easiest to work."
"That is up to you," said Tremont in a tired voice. "Do your best, and let me hear from you. I shall leave for Glendale tomorrow."
Savette arose and bade his companion good night. He went downstairs and donned his raincoat. He stepped from the door. The policeman, a poncho on his shoulders, was standing on the edge of the porch. He saluted the physician and Savette hastened through the pouring rain and reached his car. The policeman watched the physician's automobile drive away. The officer had been instructed to remain here during the night. Glade Tremont was an important resident in the locality. The head of the local police force regretted his neglect in leaving this section unguarded.