Manhattan’s low-hanging red glow showed above the house, giving the building a silhouetted effect. The old structure was three stories high at the front; but the top floor did not extend clear to the rear. Jutting back from the side was a brick wall; in it, a tightly-nailed gate.
While Hawkeye was moving from the side court, going to examine the front of the house, The Shadow scaled the wall. He peered down into the cracked cement of an inner court. There he saw a back door that might afford a mode of entrance.
But The Shadow had another choice. He took to the wall of the house itself. In limber fashion, he reached the flat roof that topped the rear second story. There, he discerned iron-shuttered windows that were evidently barred on the inside.
That was not all. The Shadow observed the outline of what appeared to be a large, coffin-shaped box close by the wall at the front of this low roof. Coos sounded as The Shadow glided close. The white forms of pigeons appeared beyond a wire-fronted door in the box.
Diamond Bert’s carriers! This house was the residence of Throckton Rayne. Here was the headquarters to which Diamond Bert had dispatched his messengers. The slippery crook had evidently decided to use it as a hideout also.
STEPPING upon the high pigeon-box, The Shadow gained a hold upon jutting bricks above the shutter level. Beetlelike, his blackened shape moved upward until it reached the upper roof. Here, above the third floor, The Shadow appeared as a fantastic phantom, his form outlined by the glow above the housetops.
A trapdoor was set in the roof. It was firmly fastened; but The Shadow loosed it. Using a jimmy, he wrenched the slab from its moorings. He dropped down into the complete blackness of a third-story room.
A tiny flashlight blinked. The Shadow found a door. He opened it and spied a dim light coming up a pair of stairs. He moved down to the second floor. There his keen ears detected buzzing voices in a front room. The Shadow approached a half-opened door.
Though the barrier obscured the men within, The Shadow could tell them by their voices. One, who spoke in a harsh, firm tone, was certainly Diamond Bert. The other, whose voice betokened caution, could have only been Throckton Rayne.
“Don’t worry,” Diamond Bert was growling. “This job’ll be the last. Why shouldn’t it be? It means more than a million in one trip.”
“But last night—”
“I know what you’re going to say. We ran into a mess. But that was just a bad break — and anyway, we got the swag, didn’t we?”
“Yes. But The Shadow—”
“Say, Rayne, I was a dub to talk to you about The Shadow. If I had kept mum, you wouldn’t be scared to-night. Listen. I’ve slipped The Shadow so far. I’ll keep on slipping him.”
“He eluded Tam Sook’s trap—”
“Yes. But he didn’t get me, did he? No. I was wise enough to go to that laundry instead of to Tam Sook’s place.”
“But there were Chinese spies—”
“Up at the laundry, yes. Sent there by that smart Chink, Yat Soon. Well, I moved out of that place. The spies didn’t learn a thing. Listen, Rayne, I’ve been taking no chances. Those fellows that you paid to take laundry bundles up to Hoy Wen and Loon Goy looked just like ordinary customers. They couldn’t have been spotted. That’s a sure bet.”
“I know; but I—”
“You were scared to-day. That’s why I let you go yourself. You brought back the message we wanted, didn’t you? And what did you find in the laundry? Who was there? Two Chinamen. Hoy Wen and Loon Goy.”
“I saw two Chinese” — Rayne was speaking slowly — “but I could not swear that they were Loon Goy and Hoy Wen. All Chinese look alike to me. Besides, I never had previous contact with Loon Goy and Hoy Wen.”
“The Chinks had disks, didn’t they?” demanded Diamond Bert.
“One of them did,” admitted Rayne.
“All right.” There was a scuffling sound as Diamond Bert arose. “Let’s get going then. I’m not going to do this job alone to-night.”
“Perhaps I ought to stay here,” pleaded Rayne. His chair was grating on the floor. “One of us ought to watch the jewels that we took from Tatson and Lewkesbury.”
“Yes?” There was irony in Diamond Bert’s tone. “Well you won’t be the one to watch the swag, Rayne. It will be safe enough here. I need you to-night.”
“Why? You know the secret yourself—”
“I know what you told me; but I’m not going to look for secret catches that you already know. You can do the work quicker than I can—”
Diamond Bert stopped short. He had reached the door. To his amazement, it was swinging inward. The squatty crook blinked as he stared forward. There, just inside the door, was a figure garbed in black.
Burning eyes flashed from blackness; below them loomed the muzzles of The Shadow’s .45s.
DIAMOND BERT blinked. He was trapped and he knew it. Though his fists clenched, the crook made no move. Throckton Rayne, staring also, began to quiver. A gaunt, pale-faced man of middle age, Rayne was pitiful as he faced this master foe.
The Shadow had trapped Diamond Bert. Trapped him in the hideout on which the crook had relied.
Diamond Bert was in a spot which he had not provided with secret snares. Outguessed, outwitted, he was hopelessly caught.
A laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips. It was a burst of foreboding mockery; mirth that marked the end of a long trail. It spelled doom for Diamond Bert Farwell; yet even as The Shadow laughed, the situation took a sudden turn.
To most men, the sound of that shuddering mirth brought terror. There were a few in whom it inspired madness, also. Throckton Rayne was one of these. As The Shadow’s sinister taunt echoed through the room, Rayne delivered a frenzied cry and hurled himself upon the being in black.
There was incredible swiftness in Rayne’s wild attack. It came with an impetus that only madness could have inspired. It came with a suddenness that was unexpected, even by The Shadow. With insane power, Rayne clutched the tall cloaked figure and sent The Shadow spinning back against the wall.
His right had automatic thrust up by Rayne’s swift arm, The Shadow fired at Diamond Bert with his left.
Rolled back by Rayne’s attack, The Shadow shot wide. Diamond Bert dived for a table by the door. He grabbed a suitcase as a second shot sizzled past his ear. Then, with a mad scramble, he fled for the stairs.
The Shadow fired again. This time, Rayne destroyed the aim. Battling like a demon, the man grabbed the barrel of the automatic and jerked it as The Shadow fired. Diamond Bert dodged down the steps.
Gaining The Shadow’s gun, Rayne delivered a fierce hammerlike blow toward the head beneath the slouch hat.
The Shadow twisted. The butt of the automatic split the woodwork of the door frame, so vicious was Rayne’s blow. Then the frenzied fighter made another swing to sideswipe The Shadow’s weaving head. It was a murderous attempt; but it failed.
In his twist, The Shadow had freed his right hand. His automatic boomed as Rayne swung. The butt of the second gun swept the top of The Shadow’s hat. Then Rayne went sprawling, gasping to the floor.
The automatic clattered from his grasp.
From out in front of the house came distant shots. Diamond Bert had reached the street. The Shadow knew that he was exchanging bullets with Hawkeye. Then came silence. Rayne coughed from the floor, writhed and lay still. He was dead.
Though belated, The Shadow was about to take up the pursuit of Diamond Bert. No use for a search here; the bag that the crook had grabbed most certainly contained the stolen gems. Then The Shadow paused. He heard a low moan from beyond a side door of the room.
That barrier was bolted. The Shadow opened it. His flashlight showed a man lying on a cot. The Shadow aided the fellow to his feet. As he brought him to the light, he knew that the man was drugged. More than that, he recognized this victim of Diamond Bert’s. The man was Karl Joland, the missing secretary.