“I REGRET,” declared the criminologist, “that I was not at home that night. I should have liked very much to have been with you commissioner. Unfortunately, I was delivering a lecture in Baltimore.
“It appears to me, however, that your analysis is correct and Cardona’s is wrong. I shall tell you why. We have two occasions on which both The Cobra and The Shadow appeared.
“On one, The Cobra slew Deek Hundell. On the other, he disposed of Heater Darkin. Both were murderous characters. Hundell was a self-admitted killer. Darkin had stated that he intended to deal death. Therefore, we know that The Cobra is opposed to crime.”
Weston nodded in response to Myland’s reasoning.
“On each occasion,” resumed Myland, “The Shadow was also present. Why? To deal with criminals also? Perhaps. But we may also consider the possibility that The Shadow was there to offset The Cobra. He apparently had opportunity to deal with the crooks, but failed to do so.
“Therefore, I am inclined to revert to my original opinion. Crime battlers sometimes turn crook. The Cobra has not turned crook. The Shadow, in all probability, has.”
“But you can’t prove that, Mr. Myland — “
The interjection came from Joe Cardona. Commissioner Weston stopped it with a wave of his hand.
“You cannot prove otherwise, Cardona,” he declared. “Therefore, you should not interrupt Myland’s theory. Go ahead, Myland. Excuse Cardona’s interruption.”
“Watch events in the underworld,” advised Myland. “Do not molest The Cobra in his excellent work. But at the same time, be on the lookout for The Shadow. Should you gain proof that he has gone crooked, you can use every effort to thwart him.”
“Good advice,” nodded Weston. “You are to follow it, Cardona. In the meantime, Gorgan, do your best to get information on both The Cobra and The Shadow. I am disappointed because you have learned so little.”
“I’ve heard a lot, commissioner,” protested Crawler. “The only trouble is — what’s phony and what isn’t. I’ll tell you what’s been said about The Cobra. They figure he’s working a game that’ll put crime on the fritz.”
“You mean by eliminating criminals?”
“The big ones — yes. But not the little ones. The Cobra’s got them scared. He’s making some of them work for him like stool pigeons — and they’re afraid to blab. That’s what’s been said.”
“More power to him!” exclaimed Weston. “The Cobra is showing masterful tactics. Undermining the structure of gang organization. Wonderful! Who are these henchmen whom he has drafted?”
“That’s what I can’t get,” replied Gorgan. “You ain’t going to find any guy admitting he’s with The Cobra. That would be suicide, commissioner. You can take it from me — The Cobra is wise enough to tell nobody much. He’s got ‘em all scared.”
“What about The Shadow?”
“Everybody thinks he’s laying low. I told you that, commissioner. The Cobra has made him look cheap. But I’ve got an idea — if you want it. It’s just an idea, commissioner—”
“Let’s have it.”
“I think The Shadow will try to stage a comeback. I heard what Mr. Myland just said about The Shadow going crooked. I ain’t ready to agree with that, commissioner. Not just yet, anyway. The Cobra’s got him licked though — beating him at his own game. If The Shadow ain’t on the job pretty soon, they’ll all be laughing at him. And any guy that gorillas get a laugh out of don’t amount to much — you can see that, I guess.”
“Good theories, Gorgan,” commended the commissioner, briskly. “However, I should like facts. Return to your hide-out and learn all that you can concerning both The Cobra and The Shadow.
“I promise you that you shall be rewarded for any tangible information that you can produce. At the same time, you are too valuable a man to run serious risks. Gain your information in your own manner.”
This was the final comment. Cardona and Gorgan were dismissed. The commissioner sat alone with the criminologist, Caleb Myland.
“CARDONA is efficient,” commented Weston, “and Gorgan is useful. But, after all, their abilities are limited. They cannot be pushed beyond their capacities.”
“Quite so,” agreed Myland. “Nevertheless, Weston, I believe that these problems in the underworld will solve themselves.”
“How?”
“Through the actions of The Cobra. He has shown the fairness of his purpose. His willingness to have you observe him combat crime is evidence of his sincerity.”
“But The Shadow?”
“There is the doubtful quality, Weston. I foresee a struggle between these two factors who have made it their business to ravage the underworld.”
“But who will cause it?”
“The Shadow. His prestige is at stake. He may reveal new traits — criminal ones, perhaps — in his efforts to combat The Cobra’s rising power.”
“And the outcome?”
“We shall see. The time will come when you will find it necessary to side with either The Shadow or The Cobra.”
Caleb Myland said no more. Commissioner Weston, however, remembered the criminologist’s words when he was riding back to Manhattan in his official car.
A combat was impending. The Shadow and The Cobra — both could not follow the parallel course indefinitely. As Myland had said, sooner or later, one would be outlawed.
Myland had not specified which, but Weston had caught the criminologist’s innuendo — and the police commissioner agreed with it. With one of these fighters beyond the pale, the other would deserve the protection of the law.
Which?
Commissioner Weston had his answer. It was induced by his own experience; it was backed by the opinion which Caleb Myland had cautiously expressed.
Commissioner Weston was convinced that when the showdown came; when the duel between The Shadow and The Cobra was actually in view, the one with whom the law would find it best to side would be The Cobra.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SHADOW HEARS
DAYS had passed since The Cobra had ended the nefarious career of Heater Darkin. Since then, The Cobra had struck again. His victim had been “Smokey” Bragland, head of a big gambling racket. Smokey had been shot down in one of his palatial gaming rooms, with a dozen witnesses present.
Although the public did not know it, Police Commissioner Weston had received advance notice of The Cobra’s deed. On this occasion, the hisser who spoke over the wire had not invited Weston to be present.
But The Cobra’s action had satisfied the commissioner. Smokey Bragland was an unconvicted murderer. His warranted death had brought new consternation to the underworld.
The Shadow had not appeared on this occasion. That had caused new comment in the badlands. It produced the general opinion that The Shadow had admitted his own inability to keep up with The Cobra’s prowess.
Night had come to Manhattan, and among the hordes of scumland, The Cobra was again the topic of awed conversations. At the Blue Crow — a hangout where the most disreputable of rowdies met — uncouth mobsters were speculating on The Cobra’s next victim. While they were talking, a mobster entered. It was “Duff” Berker, a member of Heater Darkin’s disbanded crew.
“Hi, Duff!” called a sweatered gangster. “We was just wonderin’ who The Cobra was goin’ to get next.”
“Don’t talk about that guy,” growled Duff. “He’s going to get the works himself, someday.”
“Yeah?” the first speaker was sarcastic. “Who from? Say — he knowed more about what Heater Darkin was doin’ than you did, I bet. Where was you that night?”
“Outside,” retorted Duff.