Then came a sudden change. The man’s smile froze. His pudgy face turned white. He stood whimpering at what he saw in the mirror. There, reflected weirdly, was a form towering above his shoulder.
Desmond gasped as he saw the black-cloaked shoulders, the brim of the slouch hat, the glittering eyes that marked The Shadow. Beneath the brim of the hat were features that Desmond could not distinguish. Upon them rested a greenish glow, which formed a ghostly sight.
Desmond trembled as he heard the tones of a sinister, taunting laugh. It came from unseen lips and its echoes cast a weird, uncanny spell that filled the room.
To Desmond, that laugh brought terror. It was the laugh of The Shadow. Tonight, it marked the end of a traitor’s triumph.
CHAPTER XXV
THE DOUBLE CROSS
Two ships floated serenely on a placid sea. One was the yacht Cordova; the other was a rakish, lowlying rumrunner. In the fading light of early evening, they seemed like painted ships.
A plane came purring from the distance. As it neared the ships, it circled, headed toward the Cordova and zoomed downward. It came to rest upon the surface of the ocean.
A little boat put out from the yacht. It picked up two men who alighted from the seaplane. The motor roared and the amphibian took off, heading back to land.
The arrivals were brought to the Cordova. They came up the ladder and the men who manned the boat passed two bulky bags after them. Standing on the deck, the arrivals faced Rodriguez Zelva. The chunky South American smiled as he recognized the faces of his man Pesano and Frank Desmond, the traitor.
The bags belonged to Desmond. Zelva motioned to a member of the crew. The man took the bags below. Desmond, wearied in appearance, followed. Zelva gripped Pesano’s arm and took his man to a lower cabin.
There they found two others. One was Ellsdorff, the German agent in Zelva’s employ. The other was Alvarez Legira, stretched in a chair with his wrists handcuffed behind him. Pesano grinned at the plight of the consul from Santander.
“All worked good?” questioned Pesano.
“Very fine,” said Zelva. “I have the box here on the boat, in a very nice strong room which our friend Legira provided. Here is the key” — he dangled it from his hand — “and I shall keep it.”
“What about the crew?”
“Of this ship?” Zelva laughed and looked at Ellsdorff, who grinned in response. “They are on the other boat. They will not be there long.”
He made a gesture indicating a man being thrown overboard. Pesano smiled.
“It was very easy,” declared Zelva. “We captured this boat with no trouble. This man” — he pointed to Legira — “walked into the trap. I think we shall keep him — for a while. We will bring over more men to make a crew, when we are ready to leave. But first, we have business with another—”
He made a pointing gesture toward the door. Pesano nodded in understanding.
“You must listen to this, Legira,” said Zelva, in a pleased tone. “It will be one thing you will like very much. You were tricked by a man named Desmond. Very good. Very good — for us — but not for him. He is here now.”
Legira’s eyes flamed with hatred.
“This man Desmond,” continued Zelva, “is of no use now. So we shall finish him. You like that, eh?”
An expression of satisfaction flickered on Legira’s face. This, at least, would be one bit of justice. Desmond, the double-crosser, was to be double-crossed.
“Which of you two?” asked Zelva, politely, turning first to Pesano and then to Ellsdorff.
Pesano drew a sharp-bladed knife from beneath his coat. Ellsdorff produced an automatic.
“Which is best?” Zelva questioned Legira.
“The knife,” said the consul, his eyes gleaming with revenge.
Pesano looked at Zelva and pointed eagerly to the door. Zelva nodded.
“Give me some time,” said Pesano. “I have talked to him in New York. I shall be friendly. Let me do it as I wish. Where is his room?”
Zelva pointed.
“Up near the strong-room,” he explained. “It has the letter A on the door.”
Pesano nodded.
WHEN he had gone, Zelva leaned back in his chair and spoke thoughtfully.
“So you had a fine way, Legira,” he said. “A fine way to take that money. You were clever, but it has done you no good. It was very good for you to have this fine yacht. Where, may I ask, were you going?”
“To Santander,” declared Legira.
Zelva laughed. Crook that he was, he could not understand any one whose mind worked differently. He did not believe Legira’s statement. The consul became sullen and morose.
Zelva opened a small closet and discovered a bottle of liquor. He extended it to Ellsdorff, who filled two glasses that lay on the table.
“Thanks to you, my friend,” said Zelva to Legira. “It is too bad that you cannot have so good a drink with us. It would be too difficult for you to hold the glass.”
Minutes went by. The idle boat barely moved with the motion of the swell. Zelva began to look perplexed. He wondered why Pesano had delayed. He was about to rise, when Pesano came in the door.
“It could not be,” he said. “He was wide awake. It was too difficult, in that stateroom. He is coming here, soon. I told him you wished to see him.”
Ellsdorff uttered a grunt of contempt. He drew his automatic.
“It iss my turn,” he said in a guttural voice. “My turn, yah?”
Zelva nodded with the solemnity of a judge. Pesano shrugged his shoulders and helped himself to a drink. He stood close beside Ellsdorff.
“This will be good to watch,” declared Zelva to Legira. “You shall see this man die. Will that not be good to watch?”
Legira did not reply. He was staring grimly at the door. Ellsdorff was holding the automatic, calmly in readiness.
There was a knock at the door. Rodriguez Zelva smiled as he looked at Ellsdorff. The German raised the gun. He was covering the door, his gun hand half hidden by the form of Pesano.
“Come in,” called Zelva, pleasantly.
The door began to open inward. Ellsdorff’s finger rested on the trigger of the automatic. Pesano, standing beside Ellsdorff, was gripping the knife which he had not used. His eyes were staring toward the German, as though in envy of the part Ellsdorff was to play.
The double cross was ready for its climax!
Death awaited the man who was to enter!
CHAPTER XXVI
THE COMPROMISE
THE door of the cabin swung suddenly wide. Rodriguez Zelva stared in amazement. It was not Frank Desmond who stood there; it was a man garbed in black, his shoulders covered by a flowing cloak, his head hidden beneath a broad-brimmed hat.
“Shoot!”
Zelva blurted the command to Ellsdorff. The German, momentarily surprised, was about to obey. But Pesano was quicker. With a wild, sudden swing, the swarthy man hurled himself upon Ellsdorff and buried his knife to the hilt in the German’s body.
A guttural cry came from Ellsdorff’s lips. With wide mouth and staring eyes he turned his automatic toward his attacker and pressed the trigger three times. Then he rolled to the floor and Pesano crumpled forward upon him.
Rodriguez Zelva made a quick leap for the automatic. A voice from the door stopped him. Zelva looked at the man in black. He saw the burning eyes of The Shadow. He also saw the muzzle of an automatic that extended from a black-gloved hand.
Zelva moved back to his chair and sat down calmly. In this moment of unexpected adversity, he was, as ever, a schemer.
“Who are you?” demanded Zelva.
“One who came here as Frank Desmond,” returned The Shadow, in a whispered voice. “I learned his plans from his own lips. He was in my power. I took his place.”