Schultz and Spirak had escaped!
MARMOSA was voluble in his explanations, and the policemen nodded their understanding. One of them called up headquarters.
The death of Eddie Heeny had made it a serious affair. Harry listened to Marmosa’s words. The proprietor of the gambling den was telling a clever story.
“Two men came in here,” he said. “They came to get Eddie Heeny, who was up there on the balcony. He shot them, but they killed him. We ran out here to get them, but they were gone.”
“Who were they?” demanded one of the policemen.
Frank Marmosa shrugged his shoulders. Joe le Blanc duplicated the gesture. Harry and the croupier said nothing.
The men who had been gambling were coming down the stairs. They were not familiar with the affairs of gangland; they could not have told the names of the attackers had they been questioned. But Marmosa now had the situation under control. The guests were allowed to go.
Joe le Blanc drew Harry Vincent to a corner of the restaurant, and gave his explanation of the affair. The brief summary convinced Harry that Joe’s theory was correct.
“There’s another guy in this,” whispered Le Blanc. “Some pal of Schultz and Spirak. He must have sneaked in here and waited downstairs. Then Schultz and Spirak came out to attract Heeny’s attention.
“Heeny probably talked friendly to them, because they were out of the gambling joint. That gave their pal the chance to plug Heeny.”
“But what about Genara and Anelmo?”
“That was all figured in the game. Schultz and Spirak got back behind the pillar while their pal was finishing Heeny. One shot did it.
“Anelmo and Genara came out and saw the guy running from the restaurant. They went after him. That gave Schultz and Spirak the chance to do their stuff.”
The police were removing Heeny’s body. Marmosa was talking to a headquarters man, and the proprietor’s story seemed to be holding weight.
As the policemen left the place, Marmosa motioned to his three companions, and they went up the stairs, back toward the gambling room where the others still remained.
“Who was that bird?” questioned Marmosa, addressing Joe le Blanc. “The way he finished up Spirak and Schultz — “
“Who was he?” Le Blanc laughed loudly. “Did you ever hear of Monk Thurman?”
“Monk Thurman — from New York?”
“That’s the guy!”
Marmosa paused to mop his brow with a silk handkerchief.
“Monk Thurman,” he repeated, in wondering tones. “They say it was getting hot for him in New York. I didn’t know he was here.”
“Well, you know it now. Heeny brought him in. I didn’t have a chance to tell you who he was.”
“Wait until Savoli hears about this,” said Marmosa. “I’m going to call up Mike Borrango; I want him to come around to collect tonight. This Monk Thurman is a man that he can use.”
“And how!” exclaimed Le Blanc.
THEY entered the gambling room. The injured croupier was sitting in the corner; the bartender and the doorman had just finished binding his head.
“Where’s Monk Thurman?” demanded Marmosa.
“Who?” asked the bartender.
“The fellow who was up here — the guy that crippled Schultz and Spirak.”
“Why, he’s right over there, leaning against the bar — “
The bartender paused, wondering.
“I saw him just a few minutes ago,” he insisted. “Standing there, quietlike, saying nothing. I didn’t see him go out of — “
“He’d have to go downstairs,” replied Marmosa.
“Say!” Joe le Blanc had an explanation. “I’ll bet he went out with those other fellows — the ones who were playing roulette.”
“If he did, he’s a wizard.”
“That’s what he did. It’s the only way he could have done it.”
Frank Marmosa made no reply. He was speechless. The others made no comment. They looked at each other in wonder, and in silent admiration of the amazing Monk Thurman.
To Harry Vincent, the event was a revelation.
There had been five gangsters in that room. Two, the Homicide Twins, had been outwitted. The others, Schultz and Spirak, had been conquered single-handed by a man who held one gun against their four.
Now this amazing gangster had gone, quietly and unobserved, leaving wonderment behind him.
Monk Thurman!
The man was a supergangster. Chicago had never known another like him; that was Le Blanc’s strong statement.
But Harry Vincent was not comparing Monk Thurman with Chicago gangsters. He was comparing him with another person entirely. For Harry had seen another man who could act with such amazing promptness, and who had the ability to make mysterious departures which no one could fathom.
Monk Thurman was an incredible personage; his accomplishments seemed almost beyond human ability. Yet there was one other man as remarkable as Monk Thurman — a man whom neither Le Blanc nor Marmosa had ever seen.
Until this night, Harry Vincent had believed that only one human being was capable of performing the wonders just displayed by Monk Thurman — and that being was The Shadow!
CHAPTER VI
AT THE GRAY MILL
MARMOSA, Harry Vincent, and Joe le Blanc, were having lunch in a corner of the balcony the following noon. Monk Thurman’s action of the day before was on the minds of all of them.
Marmosa and Le Blanc were familiar with the havoc wrought by Chicago gunmen, and were forced to admit that this newcomer from New York had shown more finesse than any one they knew.
“Where can he be found?” questioned Marmosa. “Did he tell you where he was staying?”
Le Blanc shook his head.
“He didn’t talk much,” he said. “I never met him before. Heeny brought him in.”
“Heeny’s dead,” Marmosa replied. “We can’t learn from him — but I want to know.”
“We might learn by tracing Heeny. Some one introduced him to Heeny. We’ll learn who it was.”
“That’s right. See what you can find out, Joe.”
“Well, I won’t have much time,” Joe said. “I’m going out to the Gray Mill this afternoon.”
“That’s the name of his new road house,” said Marmosa to Vincent. “You remember? The one I was telling you about, eh?”
Harry nodded.
“I’ve got to be out there by eight o’clock,” said Le Blanc. “I won’t be able to be here tonight, Marmosa.”
“That’s all right,” said me big man. “Vincent can do the work this trip. I’m not going to open until late, and I’m going to be careful for a few days.”
“Maybe Thurman will show up at the Gray Mill,” said Le Blanc thoughtfully. “I was telling him about the place last night.”
“I wouldn’t talk too much about it, Joe,” observed Marmosa.
“Yeah, you’re right there,” replied Le Blanc. “But Thurman is O.K. You ought to know that. He proved it by the way he helped you out.”
“Maybe so, Joe. But you didn’t know that when you were talking to him. That was before he brought out his gat.”
“Well, Heeny brought him in. Any one that came with Heeny was O.K.”
“All right. Let’s forget it. That reminds me that I need another gorilla to take Heeny’s place.”
“I’ll get you one this afternoon.”
BIG Frank Marmosa leaned back in his chair, and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. He was evidently pondering upon something, and neither Vincent nor Le Blanc interrupted his meditation.
Finally the restaurant owner spoke the words that were in his mind.
“I’ll tell you how it is, boys,” he said. “I talked with Mike Borrango last night. I’d rather have talked to him than to the big boy, Savoli.
“Borrango has a tough job — enforcing. They don’t all pay, like I do. He has to use a lot of pineapples.”