The room was empty, but the intruder saw the thickness of cigar smoke. A curling wreath was bending upward from a cigar that lay on an ash tray.
Carpenter went to the desk. He picked up the smoldering cigar. He recognized the aroma. It was the peculiar brand that Wheels smoked. The big shot had been here tonight — but now he was gone, for the room was empty!
STANDING beside the heavy, flat-topped desk, Carpenter wondered. Then, realizing that he might be discovered, he hastened to the door. He turned out the light with his left hand, while his right clutched his pocket revolver.
Outside, Carpenter saw that he was safe. Big Tom had not returned. There was no wisdom in tarrying here. The former blackmail king left the premises.
Back in that darkened office, a soft laugh resounded after Carpenter’s departure. It was the laugh of The Shadow! A cloak swished as the mysterious being emerged, unseen, from behind the cabinet door which was so often open.
A double mystery existed where Herbert Carpenter saw only one. The coming and going of Wheels Bryant — apparently impossible in that isolated spot — was duplicated by the arrival and departure of The Shadow!
Five minutes after Herbert Carpenter had gone. Big Tom Bagshawe arrived in the office. He entered and turned on the light. He sat at his desk and chewed the end of an unlighted cigar. Then, with a broad smile, he locked the desk.
Three kings and an ace! They would be the winning hand to-morrow night.
Big Tom Bagshawe was pleased. He glanced toward the safe in the corner. That metal box was filled with ill-gotten funds. Tomorrow night it would bulge, for all the spoils would be in Big Tom’s possession.
Tomorrow night, the gambling king would be retired. He would sit here, like a huge spider, waiting to feed on new wealth. His wheels, his tables, his machines would all be gone, packed and away — to-morrow night!
Wheels Bryant — biggest of the big shots — would turn the trick. He had been here tonight. Hooks Borglund had taken his instructions.
Not once did Big Tom’s mind turn to Herbert Carpenter, the king who had been tossed into the discard. Nor did he suspect the presence of The Shadow!
Wheels Bryant — ace in the hole — had three kings. The Shadow — the great unknown — had one.
Tomorrow night, those hands would be matched!
Yet only The Shadow knew that fact!
CHAPTER XVI
EIGHT FOUR EIGHT
EIGHT FOUR EIGHT!
The meaning of those numbers was obvious to Herbert Carpenter, as he sat in his room at the Hotel Pavilion. They meant Room 848, in this same hotel. There, Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves were due to meet tonight at nine.
Nearly twenty-four hours had elapsed since Carpenter had entered and left Big Tom Bagshawe’s office above the vaulted dome of the Club Catalina.
It was nearly nine now. Carpenter rose and gripped his pocket revolver. He had not been idle to-day. He had found the layout of Room 848, and had discovered a most vital point about it. The room had a balcony, extending to Room 850. The latter was vacant.
Carpenter was no cracksman; but he was shrewd. That morning, pretending that he had lost his own key, he had obtained a master key from an attendant. Before returning it, he had gained an impression by pressing the key in a small box of wax.
An obscure locksmith had made a key from the impression. Herbert Carpenter was equipped to enter Room 850.
Walking through the corridor toward the desired room, Carpenter again found himself wondering about The Shadow. He felt that he was out to gain important information. He must use it alone, should he obtain it. There might be trouble tonight — and The Shadow would not know!
Carpenter felt a strange exultation. It was not one of vengeance. Its inspiration was a new sensation. For once, he was working for the right!
Never in his life had Carpenter felt the urge to turn detective. He had held a contempt for professional sleuths. But now, pitting his wits against those of double-crossing crooks, he experienced a satisfaction that he had never before known.
He realized that he had been a rat in the past. He had been like Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves, the men whom he was out to thwart tonight.
The present Herbert Carpenter felt a contempt for the Herbert Carpenter of the past; and he felt very little pity for the Herbert Carpenter of the future — the one who would go back behind the bars.
There was work to do — after that, prison would be the reward. Flight? It had occurred to Carpenter, but he had dismissed it. The menace of The Shadow had influenced him at first; but after that, he had felt a disdain toward himself for having thought of it.
He, Herbert Carpenter, had been double-crossed. He was out to smash the double-crossers. A being greater than he had given him the chance — The Shadow. Why should Carpenter, who hated double-crossers, attempt to double-cross the master who had befriended him and given him the money that he needed?
That was the train of thought passing through Carpenter’s mind as he neared Room 850, at the end of a long, dim corridor.
With Carpenter, crime had been a profession. He had shown no regard for those who had been his dupes; at the same time, he had always played fair, in his own twisted way, with his associates in crime.
Now, he had crossed the fence. He would play fair there, too. He was working for The Shadow, obedient to all commands, despite the inexorable judgment of the mysterious being in black — the judgment that meant Carpenter’s return to prison walls.
As he opened to door to Room 850, Carpenter failed to notice a huge, broad patch of black that stretched along the floor from the end of the corridor. He did not even glance in that direction, where two burning eyes gleamed from the blackness of the wall.
The Shadow was watching!
HERBERT CARPENTER entered the darkened room. He closed the door behind him. He softly opened the window and crouched upon the balcony. He could see the light from 848, and observed, from an angle, that the window of the adjoining room was also open, but he was too cautious to advance closer.
A long, tedious wait. A distant clock struck nine. A few minutes later, Carpenter heard sounds from the adjoining room. Voices were talking near the window. Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves were conversing!
“All set, Hooks?” questioned Shifter.
“Right, Shifter,” replied Hooks. “How about the pier? Everything ready down there?”
“You bet. I’ve got the boat in the submarine elevator. All set to go. We used to bring stuff in by that route. We’ll use it for a getaway tonight.”
“Just like we arranged last night.”
There was a pause. Herbert Carpenter set his lips. Was this to be the end of the conversation? He wished that he had been in on last night’s conference! Evidently, everything had been fully discussed at that time.
“Pretty near time for you to get along,” said Shifter.
“Nine thirty,” responded Borglund. “That’s when I leave.”
“Right on the dot, eh?”
“Not quite. I’ve got my own way of working, Shifter.”
“Yeah? So has Wheels Bryant.”
Another pause; then Shifter resumed:
“I figure Wheels will spring his stunt at ten o’clock. Say — that’s a big one, eh? That dumb committee up at Cruikshank’s house — putting an end to crime!
“Old Pop Yates gets full privileges. Away he goes, to raid Big Tom. Nothing doing there.
“And while he’s down there, while the fat-head committee is on its way, in steps Wheels and walks away with Rufus Cruikshank himself. Boy! It will cost Seaview City a couple of hundred grand to get their dear mayor out of hock!”
The revelation brought a silent gasp from Herbert Carpenter, crouched on the balcony. That was Wheels Bryant’s game tonight! The big shot was pulling one himself!