The Shadow had recognized that fact long since Hawkeye’s trailing had shown definitely that Trip was in league with Rook and had therefore substantiated The Shadow’s assumptions.
Odd happenings were frequent in the affairs of the underworld. It was possible that Trip could have shown nerve enough to rub out Rook. On the contrary, it was probable that some other explanation could be found.
Searching the body that looked like Rook’s, The Shadow found no traces of a gun. Turning, he went back into the room where Trip’s form lay.
Trip’s revolver lay close by the opening to the elevator. It was a .32; that fact gave The Shadow a new impression. Certain killers might have ventured forth with a weapon of such puny caliber, but not Trip Burley if he had planned so momentous a task as the murder of Rook Hollister.
Turning on the light of the dressing room The Shadow looked about and spied the telephone that rested on a table. He lifted the instrument and dialed a number. A quiet voice came over the wire. It was Burbank.
In whispered tones The Shadow called for reports. He received one that Burbank had just gained from Hawkeye. The Shadow learned the details of the Chinatown meeting as Hawkeye had observed them.
He completed his call.
One thing was certain. Trip Burley, by his act of murder had placed himself in line for appointment in Rook Hollister’s stead. His haste hither could have been inspired by the belief that others of Rook’s lieutenants might also know of the secret elevator and be contemplating murder on their own.
That, however did not nullify The Shadow’s previous conclusions. Trip’s .32 still impressed him as a weapon of too trivial proportions. The mobleader might have used it to slay a harmless victim; but not to deal with Rook.
Burns on the murdered man’s shirt front showed a close-range shot. It was odd that Rook should have put up no fight while facing Trip at less than a yard’s distance.
A TABLE drawer was partly opened. The Shadow pulled it out. Inside he saw the glimmer of a gun. He removed the weapon. It was an expensive automatic, of medium caliber, with inlaid handle bearing the initial “H.”
Evidently a pistol that Rook had prized. One that he kept in readiness in case of intruders. The Shadow placed the loaded weapon beneath his cloak. His low-toned laugh indicated a new purpose.
The Shadow, like Trip Burley, had profited by a shot fired while a train was passing on the elevated. He had downed a murderer; but as circumstances now stood there was every indication that someone beside the two dead men had participated in gunfire.
The Shadow saw a reason to nullify that situation. He left Trip’s .32 beside the dead mobleader’s body.
That remained as an indication that Trip had actually slain the man in the living room. Moving in to where Manthell’s body lay, The Shadow performed two actions.
His first was to raise the dead man’s hands, each in turn, and press thumb and fingers upon the surface of a waxed paper that he produced from beneath his cloak.
That done, The Shadow took his own automatic — the .45 with which he had felled Trip Burley — and pressed it into Manthell’s right hand. Carefully folding the waxed paper, The Shadow placed it beneath his cloak along with the initialed pistol which he had removed from the table drawer.
Gliding swiftly into the dressing room, The Shadow extinguished the light. His sinister laugh sounded in a prophetic mirthless tone as he entered the secret elevator. Again The Shadow laughed.
The panel clicked shut as parting echoes faded in the hollowness of the dressing room. Then came the muffled grinding of the descending elevator. The Shadow had departed from this place where double death had struck.
CHAPTER X. THE NEW KING
HAWKEYE had returned to his post outside the garage. The Shadow’s agent had arrived there while his chief was still upstairs in Rook’s apartment; but even Hawkeye’s keen, observing eyes failed to detect the departure of the cloaked avenger.
Remaining at his post, Hawkeye kept wondering. He was sure that his brief trip to report to Burbank had not allowed time for either Rook Hollister or Trip Burley to come downstairs. Hawkeye decided that the two must have entered into a prolonged conference.
Twenty minutes passed. Hawkeye was getting impatient. Had Rook decided to remain in his apartment?
Did the big shot think that be would be safe there from mobland’s vengeance? Such might be the case; still that did not account for the fact that Trip had not emerged.
Analyzing Rook’s situation. Hawkeye decided that the big shot’s best bet was to send Trip back into the underworld as soon as possible. There Trip might learn of moves that others intended to make.
Hawkeye, therefore, regarded Trip’s long stay at Rook’s as a piece of poor strategy.
Ten minutes more. Hawkeye peered steadily as he saw someone approaching the garage. This was something that the little trailer had not anticipated. Instead of people coming out, someone was going in.
The lanky figure that Hawkeye saw looked familiar. Lamplight gave a glimpse of a pasty face. Hawkeye recognized the new arrival by his overlarge, flattened nose and the protruding effect of his chin.
It was Lingo Queed. What was more, Lingo’s goal was the garage. Hawkeye watched mobland’s interpreter sidle in toward the entrance to the secret elevator. Here was news for The Shadow. Lingo must either know or suspect that the secret entrance existed to Rook Hollister’s abode.
Hawkeye sneaked forward. He entered the garage and reached a spot where Lingo had turned from view. Peering into the little airshaft. Hawkeye spied Lingo at the tin wall.
As Hawkeye watched, Lingo gained success. The metal-covered barrier moved upward. Hawkeye saw Lingo step into an elevator. Hawkeye ducked away as Lingo turned about.
A few seconds later, there was the rumble of machinery. Taking another look, Hawkeye saw that Lingo had closed the opening behind him.
This meant another report to Burbank. Hawkeye hastened on his way wondering just what Lingo’s visit meant. He felt sure that the gabby mobster could not be another tool of Rook’s. Therefore there was but one other answer. Lingo with many contacts in the bad lands, must have been lucky enough to find out about Rook’s secret elevator. It might be that he was on his way to take a chance on killing the big shot and thus usurp the kingship of the underworld.
HAWKEYE, had he followed Lingo, would have been treated to a strange sequence of events. Up in Rook’s apartment the door of the elevator had opened. Lingo stepping forth, had come directly upon Trip Burley’s body.
Standing in the gloom of the little dressing room, Lingo looked down at the dead form. Then he closed the door to the elevator and went into the living room. There he viewed Donald Manthell’s prostrate body. Lingo’s lips formed their sour smile.
The tuxedoed dead man looked like Rook Hollister. The .45 in his loose hand had every appearance of being the gun that had brought doom to Trip Burley. Turning, Lingo surveyed the distance between living room and dressing room. His gaze seemed expert.
An elevated train rumbled by. Lingo cocked his head to one side and listened as the windows rattled.
Once more he smiled sourly. Then he paced across the living room and back again. From his pocket he drew an old revolver. It was a .38.
Drawing a grimy bandanna from his other pocket. Lingo began to polish the handle of the .38. While doing so he walked into the dressing room. There he laid his own gun on the floor and picked up Trip Burley’s .32. He polished the handle of this weapon; then gripped it in his fist and smiled.