After The Shadow had left him on that fateful night, Herbert Carpenter had known a new enthusiasm. Provided with money, unrestricted in action, he had obtained the opportunity for vengeance. Yet with that opportunity had come a sudden sense of caution.
Carpenter had started out, prepared to beard Big Tom Bagshawe in his lair. He had gone no farther than this table. Here, he had stopped, to ponder. Since then, this table had been his nightly observation post.
Herbert Carpenter was playing a waiting game. That, he realized, was the best way in which he could serve The Shadow. He had sent four thousand dollars to Jerry Stevens; he had kept the other thousand for himself. Relieved by the fact that his family was well provided with cash, sure of his own financial status, Carpenter was ready for determined action.
The Shadow had given him no instructions. Evidently, the black-garbed personage expected Carpenter to use his wits. That was exactly what he was doing now. He was waiting until he knew that something was brewing among those master crooks whom Wheels Bryant headed.
This was the fourth night — and no sign of any of the kings except Big Tom Bagshawe. Carpenter had seen the gambling king go upstairs to the den. He knew that if a meeting was to take place, it would either be here, or Big Tom would have to leave to attend it. Hence this was the place to watch.
From the background, out of the limelight, Carpenter was sure that he could foil any new plans that were developing. The gambling den was coining money — that was a self-evident fact; at the same time, Carpenter knew well that Wheels Bryant would be after bigger game than the shekels that clanked across the roulette board and the faro tables.
Finished with a light meal, Carpenter signaled to a newsboy who was standing close by. It was after midnight; the lad was selling copies of the early morning edition. Carpenter bought a copy of the Seaview Gazette, and pretended to be deeply engrossed in its outspread pages.
As a matter of fact, his pretense was not entirely feigned. He was actually reading — short paragraphs at a stretch — and then watching the stairway that led to the second floor.
An item caught Carpenter’s eye. It was a statement about Police Chief George Yates. The official was reported ready to turn in his resignation. A meeting of the Public Safety Committee was being held to-morrow night, at the home of Mayor Rufus Cruikshank.
Carpenter stopped his eager reading to peer toward the stairway. A man was heading there, from the outside door. Hooks Borglund! One of the crime kings! He was going up the steps now!
CARPENTER’S eyes went back to the Gazette. Yates, he learned, was criticizing the Public Safety Committee. They were restricting him from interference with such places as the Club Catalina.
Yates had banished crime from Seaview City. Now, he had been ordered to keep hands off — so far as gambling and lesser offenses were concerned.
Another man was walking toward the stairs. Carpenter did not recognize his mustached face, but he did recall the man’s gait. It was Shifter Reeves, wisely disguised! The dope king was here!
Again, Carpenter studied the newspaper. He saw an account of veiled remarks that were attributed to Police Chief Yates. The official had inferred that certain members of the Public Safety Committee were responsible for the restriction of the police.
Reporters had interviewed committeemen. Their statements also appeared. Louis Helwig and Raymond Coates had expressed indignation. So had Graham Hurley. Promoter — real-estate operator — hotel proprietor — all these had declared that the interests of Seaview City were their interests; that they were opposed to crime, but that now it had been eliminated, they felt the popular resort should not be subjected to petty restrictions.
A show-down was coming to-morrow night. Until now, the Gazette said, Mayor Rufus Cruikshank had let himself be guided by the sentiment of the committee. But if it came to an issue between the committee members and Police Chief Yates, Cruikshank would unquestionably side with the official in whom he had so much confidence. Mayor and police chief had been in private conference this very night.
A sudden understanding came to Herbert Carpenter. The crooks were meeting tonight to forestall the committee meeting. Carpenter laid the Gazette aside and thought deeply as he watched the foot of the stairway.
Tomorrow, in the evening, Chief Yates would not resign. He would turn in his resignation, but Mayor Cruikshank would not accept it. Instead, the reform mayor would overrule the vacillating Public Safety Committee. Yates would be given full authority to close all gambling houses.
Big Tom’s place would close down before that committee meeting ended! He had seen the handwriting on the wall. Hence the crime kings were now in conclave. Their easy graft was through. Tonight in Bagshawe’s office, they were plotting some great crime to wind up their syndicate activities.
Blackmail was out. Dope was out. It was Hooks Borglund’s turn now. Hooks Borglund — and perhaps Wheels Bryant, too! The ace in the hole! Carpenter knew the lay. Tomorrow night, hard on the heels of the Public Safety Meeting, unprecedented crime would burst!
THINKING deeply, Carpenter knew that Wheels Bryant must have had some close contact with the Public Safety Committee of Seaview City. One of the recalcitrant committeemen — Helwig, Coates, or Hurley — might be his agent. Perhaps all three!
All these thoughts formulated themselves in Carpenter’s mind, and then were crowded by perplexity. Did The Shadow know or suspect these matters? Perhaps yes — perhaps no. Where was The Shadow? Carpenter felt a sudden desire to meet the weird avenger; to tell him what he suspected; yet that was impossible.
The Shadow had vanished. Phineas Twambley was gone from the Hotel Pavilion. The departure had been a mystery. Carpenter realized that he was — to all appearances — playing a lone hand, without the aid of The Shadow. He must rely upon his own initiative.
Wheels Bryant! Where was he? To Carpenter, the big shot was almost as great a mystery as The Shadow. Carpenter had watched all who had gone up those stairs. Not one could have been Wheels Bryant. Yet with the three kings in Bagshawe’s office, the ace must be there, too!
Some one was walking down the steps. Hooks Borglund! Carpenter dived out of sight behind the newspaper as the hard-faced crook moved to a table close beside him. Peering toward the stairs, Carpenter saw the disguised Shifter Reeves coming down them.
The dope king passed close to the spot where Borglund was sitting.
“Tomorrow night?” It was Shifter’s voice that Carpenter heard.
“O.K.,” came the reply of Hooks Borglund. “Nine o’clock, eight four eight.”
Shifter Reeves was gone. Hooks Borglund was watching the dance floor. Herbert Carpenter folded his newspaper and walked away. He paused at the foot of the stairs. Cautiously, he went up.
The crime meeting had ended. No one who might have been Wheels Bryant had either come or gone.
Carpenter remembered the mysterious ways of the big shot. He had always been in Bagshawe’s office before the meetings. He had always remained there afterward. Always in the dark — save for that slow-moving cigar light, and the flicker of matches that did not reveal a face.
The roulette wheel was still in operation when Carpenter passed the barrier of the gambling den, using the card that bore the name of Howard Seabrook. Watching from a group of players, Carpenter saw Big Tom Bagshawe come out of the little office. An attendant spoke to the gambling king. Big Tom walked away, forgetting to lock the door.
In a swift, easy manner, Carpenter gained the door of the office. He entered. The room was dark. He softly closed the door and turned on the light.