“I’m not so sure it is a hoax.” Chief Yates was speaking. “It sounded like a warning to me. It sounded like whoever spoke knows something.”
Yates nodded emphatically as he made this statement. The others were momentarily impressed by his words. Then opinion changed as Rufus Cruikshank spoke quietly.
“Gentlemen,” said the mayor, “I shall abide by your decision. You represent the Public Safety Committee. We have made our plans. Now, from an unknown source comes a voice of warning. Shall we heed it, by appropriating special funds for the prevention of unmentioned crime — or shall we choose to regard it as a useless, freakish utterance that shall have no bearing upon our course of action?”
“There are other appropriations necessary—”
“We rely on your good judgment, mayor—”
“We’re well equipped for crime, anyway—”
These were the stumbling responses that followed the mention of a special appropriation. Now that the warning voice was no longer present, the apprehensive men were changing their opinions. Mayor Cruikshank rapped upon the table.
“The meeting is adjourned,” he declared.
The men filed from the room. The lights were turned out. The officials of Seaview City had made their decision. They had failed to accept the warning of The Shadow!
A SHORT while afterward, a young man entered the obscure Green Room of the Hotel Pavilion. He found his way through the dark until he reached the switch by the wall. He plugged in the loose cord.
“Vincent speaking,” he said, in a low voice. “In the Green Room. The others have gone.”
“Remove connections.” It was Burbank’s quiet voice that replied. “Detach dictograph. Remove equipment from your room. Pack, and return to New York.”
From beneath a corner rug, the young man detached an instrument that was connected with an unused lamp cord. He went back to the wall, and placed his hand upon the plug.
As he hesitated, he heard the low, whispered sound of an echoed laugh, which ended abruptly. The young man removed the plug. No longer could The Shadow hear what was said in this room. No longer could The Shadow speak to those who might be present.
Then Harry Vincent, operative for The Shadow, was gone. The room was empty and still. The Shadow’s mission was ended.
The Shadow knew. The Shadow had heard. The Shadow had spoken. He had warned men against crime, and his words had passed unheeded.
What menace threatened Seaview City?
Only The Shadow knew!
CHAPTER III
FOUR KINGS AND AN ACE
THE SHADOW had spoken facts!
While Rufus Cruikshank, mayor of Seaview City, was still talking to his companions in the palatial lobby of the Hotel Pavilion, master minds of crime were gathering beneath that very roof!
Two men were seated in the living room of a suite de luxe in an upper story of the great hotel. One was a huge bulk of a man, past middle age. He still carried a youthful air and smiling face; yet his heavy, bluff countenance had a hard-set look, that belied the friendly twinkle in his eyes.
Many persons in other parts of the country would have recognized this man, but he was a newcomer to Seaview City, and virtually unknown there. He was “Big Tom” Bagshawe, proprietor of a chain of palatial gambling houses, located in many parts of the United States. His most famous establishment was in Florida, where Big Tom was usually seen.
Where money was, Bagshawe was also. His presence in Seaview City denoted that he expected to accumulate wealth from this prosperous resort.
The other man was of a totally different type from Big Tom Bagshawe. Short, pasty-faced and possessed of shifty, cunning eyes, this individual had none of the friendly expression which characterized his big companion.
He was a fiend of the underworld, whose operations were so cunningly conducted that police had never managed to place their hands upon him. “Shifter” Reeves he was called, and his connection with questionable enterprises had always been a matter of speculation on the part of investigators.
These men were conversing in low tones. Both of them were cautious in their statements. Evidently this meeting had served as their first introduction. Big Tom was eyeing Shifter with a curious expression, and the pasty-faced man constantly turned quick glances in the direction of his companion.
Three soft raps sounded on the door. Shifter Reeves darted another sharp glance toward Bagshawe. With a slow, indifferent attitude, Big Tom arose to answer the knock.
“Three raps,” he said. “That’s Number 3.”
When Big Tom opened the door, a stocky man entered. He was well dressed, and carried himself with a challenging air. He closed the door behind him, and studied both of his companions. Satisfied they were the men he expected, he introduced himself.
“I guess you’ve heard of me?” he announced. “They call me Hooks Borglund. You’re Big Tom Bagshawe” — he glanced at the gambler as he spoke — “and I suppose you’re Shifter Reeves. Where’s the other fellow?”
“He’ll be here next,” answered Big Tom. “He’s Number 4. After him comes—”
“Hooks” Borglund nodded as though he understood. He sat down and lighted a cigarette nervously. All conversation ended; the three men were waiting.
THE silence did not last for long. Four raps sounded at the door. Big Tom answered the demand for admittance.
The man who entered was tall and well built. He had the manner of a gentleman. While the others looked prosperous, even wealthy — yet common — this man formed a contrast, because of his aristocratic bearing.
He was attired in a perfectly fitting dress suit, which he wore with the easy air of a man of the world. His clean-shaven face was handsome. Even the three who awaited him were impressed by his guise.
This man had an air of superiority that was not an affectation. He did not introduce himself as Hooks Borglund had done. He seemed to take all for granted as he sat in the chair, paying little attention to those about him.
Big Tom, seeing that the newcomer intended to make no statement, decided to supply the introduction himself. He did it in the form of a question.
“You’re Herbert Carpenter?” he asked.
The newcomer nodded.
“My name’s Bagshawe,” declared Big Tom. “This is Shifter Reeves, and this is Hooks Borglund. We’re the three that you were supposed to meet.”
“Glad to know you,” answered Carpenter.
Before any one could add further comment, there were five slow raps at the door of the suite. Big Tom cast an anxious eye about him to make sure all the others were properly seated.
“It’s him,” he whispered. “That means lights out, understand?”
The others nodded. Bagshawe extinguished the lights. He slowly opened the door, and a man walked in. Only his outlined form could be seen against the dim light of the outer passage. This quick flash ended as the man closed the door behind him. As Big Tom sidled back to his chair, the new visitor found a seat for himself.
A match flickered, but it did not show the fifth man’s face. His head was turned down as he lighted a cigar. Then all that denoted his presence was a small moving glow of fire that traveled up and down as the man intermittently raised and lowered his cigar.
“All here?” came the low question from the man with the cigar.
“All here,” answered Bagshawe.
There was a short silence, during which the fifth man seemed to be forming a plan of speech. In the darkened room there was a tenseness as though this newcomer was sizing up the men whom he could not see. The others waited for him to speak, a positive indication that he was the one most vitally concerned with this meeting.
“YOU know who I am” — the voice came in a harsh emphatic tone, as the obscured man made his first remark. “My name is Bryant. That’s enough. Never mind my first moniker; there’s lots of other guys have the same. They call me Wheels Bryant. That’s the name they give to big shots.”
Despite the fact the other four men constituted a group of self-confident individuals, there was no challenging response to the boastful claim which had been advanced. The other four unquestionably acknowledged “Wheels” Bryant as their leader.
“This is my lay,” resumed Wheels. “I’m working it my own way. I got everything fixed, and I’m giving all of you a cut-in. Whatever I say goes.
“Each of you is a specialist, and I am the one to pick the spots. I don’t want any complaining if one guy gets a lot to do and another has it soft. That’s all part of my game.
“I’m working from under cover. I can find out what’s going on in this burg. That makes it easy for the rest of you. I’ll handle it so that the bulls won’t bother you, and if you get in any jams, I’ll get you out.
“There’s the terms; I’ve put them up to you separate, now you’re hearing them together. If you’re set, we’re ready. If any one of you has a squawk, make it now.”
The silence that prevailed showed they were all satisfied. These men had evidently received individual communications from Wheels Bryant, and all knew what they were to expect.
“We’re going to ride this town,” declared Wheels Bryant gruffly, “and we’re going to begin by working the gambling end first. Big Tom likes to make soft money. We’re going to let him do it, and the profits come into headquarters.
“For a while it’s going to look like Big Tom is furnishing the gravy, but that won’t last long. His pickings will be small change when we get riding high.”
Grunts of approval sounded among the listeners. Wheels Bryant ignored the sounds. His cigar light cut a fiery arc as it shot through the air and disappeared out the open window.
“You’ve got your lay, Reeves,” declared Wheels. “That old display building, out on the end of Seaview Pier, is your place. You go in there to-morrow, and hire it for storage of boat equipment. The building has been condemned until next year, and they will be glad to rent it to you. Understand?”
An affirmative response came from Shifter Reeves.
“Shifter is handling dope,” announced Wheels. “That’s for all of you to know. He’s going to make a big clean-up. That house on the end of the pier is fixed up just the way he wants it. They used it for submarine observations last summer, and it’s fixed right for bringing in the hop. Shifter has got his men, and outside of them, we’re the only ones who are going to know about it.
“As for you, Borglund — I’m holding you for a while. When your chance comes along, it will be the grand clean-up. We’re not going to run any chances by running any kidnappings until we’re ready. Every good racket lasts just so long, and we’re going to spill yours in a big way, when the time comes. Get me?”
“All right with me,” affirmed Hooks Borglund.
“But in the meantime,” added Wheels Bryant, “you’re going to be busy, Carpenter. I hear you’re a pretty foxy bird. Like to work alone, and all that. Give you the right pickings, and you’ll knock them off.
“Well, Seaview City is just the spot to find a lot of rich playboys, all set for a blackmail job. It’s up to you to get them. When Big Tom opens that swell joint of his, you’ll find it a handy hang-out. Right?”
“Excellent,” remarked Herbert Carpenter.
“Sounds good, Wheels,” observed Big Tom Bagshawe. “The only thing is, how wide-open can I run? There’s a reform administration working in this town. Do you think they’ll be likely to close me up?”
“That’s my lookout,” responded Wheels, in a testy tone. “Seaview City is a resort. They aren’t going to bother any place that looks good from the front. Keep the rowdies out of your swell night club, and be careful who you let into the gambling joint, upstairs. Lay low when you get the word from me, and open up wide otherwise.”
There were no further comments. Every man seemed to understand his part. Wheels waited until he was convinced that all understood and were satisfied. Then he laughed gruffly, as he stepped across the room.
A tiny shaded light appeared above a telephone table as Wheels Bryant pressed the button. The leader of the five was barely visible behind the light. His face could not be seen. He reached forward and laid five playing cards upon the table. The cards were face downward.
“I want you boys to know how you stand,” he declared tersely. “I’m going to show you how I figure it. Just a little souvenir for you to keep until we hold the next meeting, up in Big Tom’s joint.”