“What’s this, Hodgson?” demanded Bob. “Put down that gun! Understand?”
“You will go away from here!” declared Hodgson, in a quavering voice. “Go away — and do not come back! You do not belong here. You are not the man you claim to be—”
“That’s nonsense, Hodgson,” interrupted Bob Galvin. “Give me that gun and get out of here!”
“You must go away!” repeated Hodgson, voice quavering but determined. “I have suspected you ever since that night you went out with another man. You are not Robert Galvin—”
The young man laughed. After his first surprise, he did not fear Hodgson. He did not think the old man would shoot without provocation.
“Mr. Mallory was here,” he declared. “He knows that I am Bob Galvin. Your eyesight is bad, Hodgson, that’s all. Call up Mallory and ask him who I am.”
For a moment the old servant hesitated. He looked puzzled; but the doubt soon faded from his face and he became more determined than before.
Bob Galvin noticed the change. He realized that a sudden understanding was coming into Hodgson’s mind.
“I shall not call up Mr. Mallory,” declared the servant, in a decided tone. “I shall not call him up, because — ” He interrupted himself quickly.
“I do not want to talk to you,” he said. “You must go now! I shall give you just ten seconds to leave this room!”
Bob Galvin stared but did not move.
“One—” said Hodgson, counting slowly, “—two—”
Bob Galvin was moving now, inch by inch. He was coming closer and closer to Hodgson, but the old servant’s eyes did not detect the motion. Hodgson kept on counting.
“—Eight—”
Bob Galvin’s hand swung suddenly upward. It struck Hodgson’s wrist. The revolver flew across the room.
Galvin leaped upon the old man. They grappled.
The odds seemed greatly in Bob’s favor, but he encountered a surprise. Hodgson’s feebleness lay only in his legs.
The old man’s grip was ferocious. He wrestled bravely with his young adversary. They fell to the floor. Hodgson was on top.
IT seemed that the old servant was due to overpower his opponent. Bob had one hand free, but he could not use it to advantage. He stretched his arm wildly and his fingers encountered the barrel of the revolver.
Bob picked up the weapon. With a quick twist, he freed himself for the instant. In so doing, he laid himself open to a new attack by Hodgson.
As the old man flung himself forward, Bob’s arm swung. The butt of the revolver struck Hodgson’s head. The servant sank with a groan.
With cruel viciousness, Bob swung again. He rose to his knees and battered the helpless man’s head with the revolver.
There was no limit to his fury. Hodgson was dead from the fourth blow, but Galvin kept on and on until Hodgson’s head had become a terrible sight.
Then, an ugly leer spreading over his face, Bob arose and looked down at his handiwork.
“You knew too much,” he said. “You know nothing, now!”
Bob laid the revolver on the desk. He sat looking at Hodgson’s body while he called a number on the telephone. Sure that he was talking to the person he desired, Bob Galvin gave a simple, quiet order:
“Come up to see ‘em as soon as you can,” he said. “I have changed my plans. There is work for us to do.”
He laid aside the telephone and sat grinning at the gruesome form on the floor.
CHAPTER V
“Tonight’s the night, Briggs!”
“So that’s what the Boss told you, eh, Bob?”
The two men who were talking sat in that same study that had once belonged to Theodore Galvin.
One of them was the young man who called himself Bob Galvin. The other was a big, powerful fellow, who was dressed in the quiet clothes of a servitor — almost the identical garb that Hodgson had been wont to wear.
“Yeah,” said young Bob decisively. “We’re going to make a stab at it tonight. At least, you and Clink are. I’m going to stay right here.
“As soon as Clink comes in, you and he go to meet the Chief. Get your final instructions from him.”
The big man nodded. His iron-jawed face was sullen. His eyes gleamed with a murderous look.
Bob Galvin saw that look, and a sordid grin appeared upon his face. The young man’s expression became one of brutality.
“After tonight,” remarked Briggs suddenly. “What then?”
“If things go right,” returned his companion, “it will be all jake. If they don’t, we’ll have to play the game like we figured it.
“You’ll be Briggs — Briggs, the butler, or whatever we call you — the guy I hired because old Hodgson was getting feeble.”
“He wasn’t so feeble three nights ago,” retorted Briggs.
“You’re right,” said Bob. “But people don’t know that. The girl is the only one we’ve got to bluff. I sent Hodgson off on a long vacation, that’s all. Thought he needed it. Big-hearted stuff, you know.”
“Briggs, the butler,” said the big man with a grin. “Well, Briggs is a good name and it happens to be my own.
“That makes it easy. No slip-ups. Briggs is my name, just like yours is Bob. Bob—”
“Galvin,” interrupted the young man at the desk. “Remember that part of it. No slip-ups there. Understand?”
BRIGGS nodded. He looked around the room, the grin still on his face.
“We’ve both done our bit in this place,” he said, “eh, Bob? I started it when I did away with Barker. Tried to double-cross us, the rat. Then you fixed this guy, Hodgson, when he tried to interfere. You acted kind of quick when you did that—”
“No quicker than you,” interposed Bob. “I guess there was only one way to handle Barker. But it would have been good if you had made him talk before he went out. He may have known some things we don’t know.”
“Couldn’t help it,” said Briggs sullenly. “He could scrap, that guy. So I didn’t give him a chance. Say” — he turned the conversation suddenly — “when’s the girl coming back?”
“To-morrow,” was the quick answer. “That’s why we’ve got to be ready to play the game. Remember, you call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Galvin’. Got that straight?”
“Sure enough. And she’s Miss Betty. But, listen” — Briggs spoke seriously — “what do you think, now, about that time she came in here. Do you really think she saw—”
“The Chief has figured it out,” interrupted Bob. “She may have been imagining things. If that’s the case, it doesn’t mean anything.
“But if she really saw some one, it’s probable that it was — well, you know who.”
“The Shadow!”
“Yes.”
Briggs shook his head doubtfully.
“He’s a tough guy to buck, Bob,” he said. “I reckon the Boss can do it. He’s a smart bird.
“But The Shadow ain’t no softy himself. He’s spoiled a lot of good lays for a lot of clever guys. He might not get at us — but he’s liable to cause a mix-up.”
“The Chief has doped it, Briggs,” said Bob, impatiently, as though he did not relish the conversation. “You know what The Shadow does — he looks in on a lot of jobs that the police have slipped up on. That’s his game, isn’t it?”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Well, figure it like the Chief does, then. This Barker proposition was passed up by the cops. They got nowhere with it. So The Shadow decided to look.
“But before he does, I’m in here! Bob Galvin, I am, come into my own. The girl’s O.K. - so’s old Hodgson. It’s not any person The Shadow’s after — it’s the scene of the crime.”
“That sounds O.K.”