Wheels was going to kidnap Rufus Cruikshank at ten o’clock, or shortly after! Hold him for ransom — make the Seaview citizens come across!
Shifter Reeves was chuckling in the other room. Carpenter listened intently.
“Great gag, eh?” Shifter was saying. “Big Tom, sitting here — butter melting in his mouth — no longer a gambler — no connection with anything. Of course, they’ll think of him as the intermediary. They’ll beg him to advertise that he’ll pay dough for the lost mayor. He’ll get the cash — Rufus Cruikshank will be brought back! Leave it to Wheels — he knows the lay!”
“What about me?” demanded Hooks. “Guess I’m doing nothing tonight, eh? Before Wheels pulls his stunt, I’ll have that beautiful young heiress all loaded on the boat, waiting for Wheels to show up.
“If Cruikshank is worth a few hundred grand, the jane is worth more than half a million. Big Tom will work that racket, too. A double job.”
Carpenter was more nonplused than before. There would be two kidnappings tonight — the first, by Hooks, at nine thirty; the second, by Wheels, at ten, or shortly after! But who was the girl that Hooks had mentioned?
“They don’t call me Hooks for nothing,” Borglund was growling. “This is my racket, Shifter. You want to know how I’m working it tonight? I’ll tell you.
“I’ve got ten men on the job. Stationed down the line from the girl’s room. Ready for a getaway — ready to stop the bulls if they try to crash. Two of them are going in — may be there now. They’ll get the girl. At nine thirty, sharp, I show up. If there’s been any slip, I’m out of the game entirely.
“That’s how I play safe. But there won’t be any slip. I’m walking down to Suite 600, and when I go out, Miss Lois Grantham will be carried along like a sack of wheat.
“Easy, eh? Looks easy, but it takes brains. That’s all, Shifter. Slide along down to the pier, or I’m liable to beat you there. We’re going to load that jane into a closed rolling chair, and give her a nice easy ride right out to your dockyard—”
HERBERT CARPENTER was no longer listening. He was back in the room, breathlessly waiting by the door. He knew that it must be after nine fifteen now. The kidnapping squad was at work. Soon, Hooks Borglund would be with them.
This called for quick action. Carpenter knew that he must surprise the kidnapers. A swift attack — a big alarm — a getaway — that was the game. Then, if luck stayed with him, he could warn Mayor Cruikshank against Wheels Bryant’s plot!
Carpenter heard a door close in the hall. That was Shifter Reeves, leaving for the pier. No chance to do anything there. Let Shifter wait. A full minute went by. Cautiously, Carpenter opened the door and started down the hall.
There was no strange shadow in the corridor, now. But Carpenter would not have seen it had it still been there. He was thinking only of his mission.
Suite 600 was at the front of the Hotel Pavilion. Carpenter knew of its location. He also had heard of Lois Grantham. She was here with her father, a man of tremendous wealth.
Evidently, some arrangement had been made to decoy the father away; also, the crooks must have made sure that the heiress would be in the suite at the desired time.
Reaching the sixth floor, Carpenter found himself in a perfect location. He had come down by the front stairs. He faced a broad hall. It had two doors, one for each side. On the left was the door numbered 600. The other was numbered 690.
Carpenter was familiar with the arrangement. These two palatial suites each occupied half of the hotel front. The doors evidently led into anterooms, side by side.
Then there were projecting extensions, so that the windows of 600 and 690 faced each other across a narrow court.
All windows must either front on the street or on that court; for there were other suites that took the outer corners of the hotel.
Carpenter saw no signs of watchers. He was sure he knew the reason. This little-used stairway was the path by which Hooks Borglund was to come.
Boldly, with steady step, Carpenter walked across the hall and turned the knob of the door marked 600. The door opened. Carpenter entered.
He had been right about the anteroom. He encountered a blank wall, with a doorway to the left. He went through and found himself in a living room. His entrance, easy and quiet, was perfect in every detail.
Revolver in hand, Carpenter stood in the dimly lighted room. Two men looked toward him from the opposite side. There, on a couch, lay an unconscious girl. One of the men was holding a large cloth in his hand. The odor of chloroform pervaded the room.
Before the two men could make a move, Carpenter was speaking. His stub-nosed revolver glittered in keeping with his words.
“Stick up your mitts!” ordered Carpenter. “One word out of either of you and — it’s curtains!”
The men obeyed. Carpenter had taken them entirely by surprise. They had entered here; they had overpowered the girl; they were expecting Hooks Borglund. A rescuer had come instead.
Covering the men with his revolver, Carpenter walked toward the door, where a telephone table stood. He placed one hand upon the instrument. He knew what lay before him.
A call to the house detectives — to the police — telling them of the situation. They would make a rapid invasion. They would be met by the outlying mobsters. Here, in this room, Carpenter must cover the two who had done the job.
The great menace would be an attack by the outer mob. If that came, there would be but one alternative. Shoot these thugs and defend the door until the police arrived. Carpenter was ready for such action, if it proved necessary. His blood was boiling as he saw this heinous crime in the making.
“One move” — Carpenter’s warning was low — “and I’ll give you the works! Both of you—”
As he reached to raise the receiver of the telephone, he saw one of the gangsters move his lips. The man was staring toward the door. Carpenter turned — too late. A powerful body was hurling itself through the air. Herbert Carpenter went down, his back to the floor.
Staring upward, he saw the face of the man who had overpowered him. It was Hooks Borglund!
CHAPTER XVII
THE HIDDEN SHADOW
HOOKS BORGLUND was giving orders. He was standing in the center of the room. Before him, hands ceilingward, stood Herbert Carpenter. Borglund’s gun was prodding him in the ribs.
“Watch the girl,” said Hooks, to one of the gangsters. “Give her a shot of that dope. Chloroform wears off too easy. You get to the door” — Hooks was speaking to the other ruffian — “and be ready for the getaway. I’m finishing this guy — then I’m with you.”
Brutally, he shoved his prisoner through a doorway into a bedroom toward the front of the suite. Here, in the light of a small lamp, Borglund pushed his enemy into a corner.
Hooks took his stand beside an open window. He cast his eye across the little court, and noted that the opposite windows were dark.
“So it’s Carpenter, eh?” sneered Hooks. “Trying to queer our game, eh? We knew you were out of the big house, but we didn’t think you’d be fool enough to run down here. Thought you were safe in your disguise, too. Well, you didn’t fool me!”
Carpenter said nothing. He stared past Hooks, toward the open window.
“Nobody’s looking at us,” jeered Hooks. “That suite’s empty. We know all about it. You’re going to get the works. One shot will finish you.
“It’s going to be sweet for us. The girl gone. A guy found dead. Who is he? Herbert Carpenter, convicted blackmailer. Pulling a kidnapping — shot in the act. Great stuff, Carpenter. You took the rap — you kept mum — you’re the goat, now.”
Carpenter’s eyes shifted to the revolver in Borglund’s hand. That weapon would decide his doom. A single shot would mean the end.