“Bryant?” questioned Big Tom.
“Mayor Cruikshank,” corrected Yates sarcastically.
“He’s not in here,” disclaimed Big Tom, in a wondering tone. “I’ve been in here alone—”
“No hokum,” insisted the police chief. “We’ve got you, Bagshawe. We know everything. Carpenter’s here in town. He spilled the story.”
A hunted look came over Big Tom’s face. Carpenter! Wheels had said nothing about him!
Slowly, the gambler knew new amazement. He had been double-crossed by Wheels Bryant! He was to be the goat!
He slumped back in his chair. Yates laughed. So did another police officer who had entered. But now the police chief was active. He was ordering men to search this office.
“We saw Bryant cut in here,” growled Yates. “Get him, men. He can’t be far. You know whom you’re after. The crook that called himself Rufus Cruikshank. Our honorable mayor!”
The search took less than two minutes. It was obvious that the room was empty. In the hurried, tense inspection, the police were forgetful of Big Tom. They were expecting to see Wheels Bryant pop out of some corner, armed.
Thus it was that Big Tom Bagshawe made his break. He knew that he was trapped; that his part in crime would soon be known. He had been double-crossed. Wheels Bryant had gone with the swag. Big Tom’s only hope was escape.
The picture of dejection, he eluded watchfulness. Suddenly, his big form came to life. Bagshawe leaped to his feet, pulling a revolver from his pocket. He lunged toward the door, turning to fire at the officers. To a man, they ducked.
A policeman, entering the office, blocked the gambler’s path. Big Tom shot at him. The officer fell. But Police Chief Yates, who had dropped behind the desk, came up to aid. Big Tom, framed in the doorway, was a perfect target. The automatic went off. The huge gambling king crashed to the floor.
Chief Yates sank into the chair behind the desk. Coldly, he looked at the distant form of Big Tom Bagshawe. Others were bending over the gambling king.
“He’s dead,” came the information.
“Just as well,” said Yates.
The police chief pressed his hand against the desk. His thumb encountered the key that Big Tom had left there. Yates turned it in the lock, wondering its purpose. He leaned his hands upon the edge of the desk while he peered over to see if there was a drawer upon the other side.
The flat top slid suddenly, and the police chief was nearly precipitated into the hollow space. He found himself staring down into a black shaft. “Say!” he shouted. “This is the way Wheels Bryant went! Down through here!”
EAGER men were staring into the hole. Yates pressed the lever. The sound of the rising elevator was heard. The policemen exchanged surprised glances as they heard the noise.
“But how” — one asked — “say — the Club Catalina is right under here — how does that work out? It doesn’t go through the middle of the dance floor right—”
Chief Yates uttered a raucous laugh. He had the explanation. He pointed downward, just as the lift came into view.
“Those big pillars!” he shouted. “Thee of them — right in the center of the night club. This goes down the middle one. Down into the cellar! Right through, with five hundred people all around!
“Get in there, one of you fellows. This is the way Wheels Bryant took. Say — chase down and watch under the board walk. That’s the way he’s gone. Send searchers everywhere. Emergency orders are still on!”
Yates watched as one of his men started down the shaft — that ingenious passage, the secret of which had been shared by two men — Wheels Bryant and Big Tom Bagshawe. Through this, Wheels had paid his mysterious visits to and from the meeting room, unseen by any one.
There was another who had used that method also. Until now, he had been the third to know of its existence. The Shadow — watching in the dark — had learned the secret. Through this elevator, he, too, had attended the meetings of the kings of crime!
Men were taking up the chase. Chief Yates knew that his surmise must be correct. Using this exit, Wheels Bryant was on his way to safety. Could they catch him now? Yates set his teeth grimly. They must catch him — the archfoe of justice!
Vainly, the police chief racked his brain. To his thoughts came the voice of the mysterious man who had first warned — months ago; and who had later exposed — this very night.
The Shadow!
Who was he? Where was he? Could he not help again, in this time of need?
Even as Yates wondered, the telephone rang upon Big Tom Bagshawe’s table. Eagerly, Yates seized it. He half expected to hear the tones of that whispered, sinister voice. Instead, he was listening to Graham Hurley, the proprietor of the Hotel Pavilion.
“That you, Chief Yates?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t nailed Cruikshank — I mean Bryant — yet?”
“No.”
“Well, here’s a tip. Work quick. He may be on the end of the Seaview Pier.”
“The Seaview Pier?”
“Yes. I’m up here at the mayor’s house. This fellow Carpenter has come to. Kind of dazed after the punch he took. He just told us that Shifter Reeves — the other of the crowd — is using that old submarine mechanism as a boathouse. That’s where the dope used to come in. Now it’s ready for the getaway—”
Chief Yates hung up the receiver. He shouted to his nearest men.
“Down to the Seaview Pier. Out on that old shack on the end. That’s where Bryant is! Get him!”
As men scurried away, Yates grabbed the telephone and called the harbor. He talked quickly to the man who answered the call.
“Put the police boat on the job. Call out every ship in the place. Police Chief Yates giving emergency orders. Head for the end of the Seaview Pier. Intercept any boat that tries to leave there!”
Hastening from the office, Yates was grim and determined. The harbor was nearly four miles away. It would take time for the boats to arrive.
HE saw it all now. First the dope king; now the kidnapping racketeers were using that pier; all under Wheels Bryant’s management. The big shot had made a getaway. The pier was only a few blocks distant.
“Get Wheels Bryant!”
That was the police chief’s determined cry as he hurried to lead the attack from land. But a great worry filled his mind. Yates knew that he was dealing with a supercrook. The greatest task lay ahead — and it was doomed to failure on the face of it.
Unless some one was on hand to slow that escape — unless a miracle should happen — both forces would be too late to intercept Wheels Bryant.
Chief Yates groaned as he hurried on. He felt sure that success had eluded him. He was doomed to lose the final triumph.
The police chief’s mind was a strange paradox. What he thought of one moment, he neglected the next.
In this particular moment, he had forgotten the presence of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XXI
THE SHOTS FROM THE TOWER
SEAVIEW PIER was a mighty, man-made promontory that thrust its long projecting line a thousand feet to sea. The huge dance hall, fronting on the board walk, was flanked by broad decks. Then, after a stretch of open space, came the motion-picture palace. Beyond that lay the exposition building.
This structure filled an enlarged square space some six hundred feet from the shore. It, too, was surrounded by decks. Then the pier narrowed to a long, straight stretch of foam-swept walk. At last, it spread again to form the last outpost — the square upon which the closed submarine observation building was located.
One odd feature gave the pier a most unusual appearance. That was the eighty-foot tower that spanned the center of the open stretch between the last two buildings. This structure, a miniature of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, had been erected for the big pageant that was to close the present season. It was studded with lights, ready for its first illumination.