Slowly, Carpenter raised his head to face The Shadow’s glowing eyes. He saw that gaze, steady and merciless. He knew that he was speaking to a man of iron. Yet he no longer faltered.
“I came here,” he said, in a deliberate tone, “to demand funds for my family. I realized my hopelessness. I wanted money — money — so I could be free — for vengeance.”
“Upon whom?” came The Shadow’s whisper.
“Upon those four,” said Carpenter firmly. “Big Tom Bagshawe, Hooks Borglund, Shifter Reeves, and Wheels Bryant.”
The blackmailer’s lips fairly spat the last name. His own eyes were shining now — brilliant with fierce hatred. Carpenter had forgotten his own dilemma. His desire to gain revenge was growing to an inspiration.
“Let me get them.” His voice took on a pleading tone. “Let me get them. They double-crossed me. I know their ways. I was one of them. Big Tom had the gambling racket, up over the Club Catalina. Shifter Reeves had his dope joint out on the end of the Seaview Pier. I was knocking off the rich boys — here — in this hotel.
“They aren’t through yet, those double-crossers. Hooks Borglund has his game. He’ll play it yet. Wheels Bryant is still working. I’ve never seen him, the rat, but if I do—”
Carpenter stopped short as he heard The Shadow’s low laugh. He realized that he was pleading with a man who was adamant. He was suggesting that a crook could catch crooks. What did The Shadow need of such aid? How could he help this superman?
“Your pleas are useless,” declared The Shadow. “You were the first to reach the end of your crime. Your punishment was mild — compared with that which the others shall suffer.”
There was an ominous tone in the words. They seemed like a voice of judgment. Herbert Carpenter shrank away and shuddered. All his bravado failed.
He sank back upon the desk. Softened, his thoughts returned to those who loved him.
“I’m through!” he gasped. “There’s no way out! Send me back to prison — back for ten years” — the words took on a bitterness — “back where I can do no more crime. I deserved what I got. I’ll take it. But I’d go to jail for life if I could make amends. I want to see those four where they belong.
“But that isn’t all” — his voice broke — “not all. My wife — my children — what have they done? Why should they pay for my crime? I’d give my life for them. Life in jail — in the electric chair — anything, to keep them from suffering!”
Strange silence predominated the room. Carpenter, half raising his head, still saw The Shadow, unyielding. He knew what his fate would be.
A summons to the police. They would come here, to find Herbert Carpenter, escaped Convict 9648, slumped helpless in the corner of a room.
The Shadow would be gone. He would depart as he had that other night. He would remain the unknown quantity that had brought Herbert Carpenter back into the clutches of the law.
Escape? An attempt would be hopeless. Well did Carpenter know the fate of those who had tried to elude The Shadow. There were two alternatives. Prison or death.
A SUDDEN gasp came from Carpenter’s lips. Peering to his right, he saw the opened window. That was a way out — a coward’s way — but one that would end this hopeless existence. Back in prison, he could do nothing to aid his loved ones. It would be better for him to take his own life.
With a wild spring, Herbert Carpenter leaped to his feet. Let The Shadow use that automatic. Let him kill. What did it matter? Hurling himself past the being in black, Carpenter reached the ledge and prepared to throw himself into the depths below. He was over the sill, started on a wild dive to death!
Then something gripped him — an iron, viselike grasp that swung him back from the brink. Powerful arms hurled Herbert Carpenter back into the room.
The would-be suicide landed in the chair that he had left. The chair crashed beneath his weight, and Carpenter’s head struck the wall. Half stunned, he lay there, helpless.
“Death is not for you,” came The Shadow’s calm, low voice. “You will live — to suffer the penalty of your crime. Live, to return to prison walls. That is my judgment!”
There was no balking those fateful words. The Shadow had spoken. The Shadow knew. Carpenter, weakened and with broken spirit, could not resist.
“You are in my power,” declared The Shadow. “You have no alternative. You must obey my summons and my word. That is the verdict.”
Carpenter bowed his head in submission. He had told his story. The decision had been given. He would return to the penitentiary. His wife and children would remain in misery, his double-crossers would go unpunished.
Wearily, the helpless man closed his eyes. Pictures of grim gray walls conjured themselves before him. He was in the power of The Shadow — the man who dealt mercilessly with crime. Minutes went by; long, hopeless minutes. Carpenter gasped weakly, waiting for The Shadow’s further bidding. It did not come.
A strange wonder came over Carpenter. He opened his eyes weakly, and rubbed his forehead. His brains were swimming. For a moment, he could not grasp his surroundings. Then, as his wits returned, he looked up to face the being in black.
The Shadow was gone!
Amazed, Carpenter managed to draw himself to his feet. He looked about him, half expecting to see that phantom figure materialize itself like a spirit from the other world.
The Shadow did not reappear. The room was unquestionably empty. Carpenter, leaning back against the wall, placed his hand upon the desk beside him. He heard something crinkle. He moved his hand, and it touched metal.
Staring downward, Carpenter experienced a new bewilderment. Upon the desk, their edges fluttering in the mild breeze, lay crisp, yellow bank notes. Upon the stack of money rested the revolver which Carpenter had dropped.
With a startled cry, the man pushed the gun aside and seized the money. He counted it with eagerness. Five thousand dollars — all in one-hundred-dollar bills — fifty of them!
Astounded, Carpenter stared about him. He looked toward the closed outer door. He gazed at the half-opened door of his own room. He looked toward the window though which he had attempted to plunge to his death.
Then the answer dawned. The Shadow’s verdict had been given. Herbert Carpenter’s future domicile remained the same. He would return to the penitentiary, as The Shadow had announced. There, he would pay the penalty for the crime. There was no avoiding that just fate.
But his other pleas had been answered. No longer would the innocent suffer. The money — left by the unseen hand — would provide for the innocents who were in want.
That was the meaning of the bank notes. But the revolver? Carpenter’s puzzlement suddenly dwindled. He knew its meaning now. It would be his weapon of protection, while he did the work that he declared he would do.
Four criminals were at large. Three, Carpenter would find. Their trail would lead to the fourth — the hidden man who was the big shot — Wheels Bryant!
Prison would be Carpenter’s fate; but before he returned there, he would have his chance to work against crime. That was The Shadow’s one concession.
Grimly, Herbert Carpenter picked up the revolver. He thrust the bills into his pocket. Like a new man, he strode into his own room, and locked the door behind him.
He had work to do — and he must begin tonight. He was an instrument of vengeance — governed by The Shadow!
CHAPTER XV
THE MEETING
ANOTHER night had come to Seaview City. Herbert Carpenter was at the Club Catalina, seated at the table in the obscure corner. He was thinking — and watching.
Three nights ago, he had met The Shadow, and had listened to his judgment. Now, he was free, apparently unguarded. He was working on his own; yet he knew that somewhere, the specter in black was hovering.