As for the cause of his fears, the big shot was prompt to make that known immediately after Cliff Marsland entered his employ. The facts came out during a conference between King Zobell and his bodyguards.
Duster Corbin — stocky, glaring and heavy-browed; “Diamond” Rigler, a rangy, long-legged fellow with sharp, ever roving eyes; Cliff Marsland, keen-faced and determined — these formed the trio that King Zobell took into his confidence.
“I’m sticking it out,” informed the big shot. “Staying here in town, while others scram. The Cobra wants me for the spot — and I’m counting on you three to nail him if he comes to get me.
“Don’t kid yourselves, boys. The Cobra is tough. Those mugs that he picked off were no softies. I thought that maybe it would be a while before he slated me. But when other guys that he’s due to gun for began their fade out, I figured I’d be next.
“Duster Corbin, here, is an ace. He picked you, Diamond, or you talked him into it — I don’t know which. Anyway, you’ve got the goods. As for you, Marsland, you showed your stuff when you took pot shots at The Shadow.
“But we’re not dealing with The Shadow now. The Cobra has The Shadow licked. The Cobra is after big shots. That’s why I’m worried. The biggest boys in New York now are the ones that are working for me.
“That’s why they’re safe. The Cobra goes to the top, every time. I’m the one he’ll pick — and I’m telling you, if he gets me, there won’t be a big gun left. Not one — and there won’t be anybody with nerve enough to try to be big.
“But The Cobra isn’t going to get me — not so long as I count on three like you, and no more. This place of mine is as good as any castle. Keep your rods ready and The Cobra won’t have the chance he wants.”
Cliff, when off duty, had reported these statements to The Shadow. Nor was that all. At other times, King Zobell had chatted with Cliff alone; and the big shot had shown a keen insight into the affairs of the underworld of New York.
It was Zobell’s firm belief that The Cobra worked through traitors. In his campaign against the big shots, he enlisted the services of small-fry lieutenants who were close to their superiors. It was probable that he dominated these men by fear; whatever his way, it was a fact that not one trail had been gained to The Cobra himself.
CLIFF could feel the tenseness of the atmosphere at King Zobell’s. Here, on this second night that he had been stationed on duty, Cliff was beginning to sense the strain. He had reasoned one fact to his own satisfaction.
If — as King Zobell feared — The Cobra intended to get the big shot, there was only one place where the job could be accomplished. That was in this living room, where King Zobell dwelt in confident security.
How would The Cobra manage it? Cliff could see no way.
A startling thought, however, occurred to him. The Cobra must certainly know that he could reach King Zobell by cracking this stronghold. Was The Cobra trying to figure out a way to do it — or was he biding his time with a plan already formulated?
Cliff felt a strong inclination to the latter belief. Had he witnessed anything like a manifestation of The Cobra’s interest in King Zobell’s abode, he would not have gained his hunch. But the fact that The Cobra had made no move was significant to Cliff.
Cliff was seated in Zobell’s living room when the idea struck him. Duster Corbin was also present. King Zobell was giving instructions to his chief lieutenant. Duster was to visit racketeers tonight.
“You can go off duty, Marsland,” declared Zobell, suddenly. “I’ll keep Duster here until Diamond Rigler shows up. Then Duster can go out. I’ll count on Diamond for tonight.”
Cliff nodded. This was a change from the regular routine. According to schedule, Cliff was to stay here until Diamond arrived. As bodyguards, Cliff and Diamond took separate shifts. Rising, Cliff started toward the door; then paused.
“Say, King,” he said to the big shot. “It’ll be O.K. if I stay here for the night, won’t it?”
“Right,” acknowledged King. “You can stay here anytime you want, Cliff. I’ve got no kick to having two men ready. At the same time, you’re welcome to the night off. You don’t have to stick while Diamond’s on the job.”
“I’ve got nowhere to go,” declared Cliff. “Might as well be around here. I’ll be back in a little while, King.”
“Good idea,” decided Duster Corbin, as Cliff headed for the elevator. “It won’t do any harm, King, to keep Marsland sleeping here at nights. He’s got the easy shift — the day one — and I’m here most all day. But at night — well, that’s the time to worry — and you’ve only got Diamond Rigler to depend on. Diamond’s good enough, though.”
Cliff Marsland had reached the ground floor of the apartment house. He stepped from the elevator and closed the door behind him. This lift, traveling upward through a solidly walled shaft, was a specially designed device that added strong protection.
Once the elevator had descended, it could not rise again unless a special switch was pulled from above. Anyone could send the car down from upstairs, by use of that switch.
When King Zobell’s bodyguards reported, they gave a special signal by ringing a bell beside the shaft. Each man had his own call. Thus a bodyguard on duty could either send down the car or turn the switch so that the man below could use the elevator.
CLIFF sauntered from the lobby of the old apartment house. He strolled around the corner and followed a narrow street at the rear. Looking up, he could see the lights of King Zobell’s barred living room. The sheer wall ended above those lights; it was topped by a projecting cornice.
Cliff reached a drug store a block from the apartment house. He entered a phone booth and called a number.
In brief, steady phrases, Cliff reported his opinions. He told Burbank of his apprehensions regarding The Cobra. Then, by way of a check-up, he described the working of the elevator that went up to Zobell’s abode.
“It’s the only way of getting there,” explained Cliff. “It would be easy enough to get up to the roof of the apartment building through one of the regular apartments — but that wouldn’t help to get into Zobell’s.
“The living-room windows are barred. Top floor, back, under a cornice. Thick, heavy gratings. Zobell talked about putting in bullet-proof glass, but it wasn’t necessary. There’s no building anywhere near that would give a line on his window.”
Cliff concluded with the statement that he was going back to King Zobell’s.
He strolled from the drug store, reached the street in front of the apartment building and sauntered along. He noticed a man in front of him. The fellow turned into the apartment house. Cliff caught a glimpse of his face. It was Diamond Rigler, reporting for duty.
As Cliff reached the entrance, he spied Diamond at the far end of the lobby. Cliff stopped short. He saw Diamond throw a crafty glance back over his shoulder.
Cliff was outside; Diamond did not see him. Then, still watching, Cliff saw Diamond go past the elevator shaft toward stairs that led to a basement.
Quickly, Cliff bounded through the door. He had an immediate suspicion of Diamond’s action. Why was the man going downstairs? The basement had once held a barber shop. That room was closed; its equipment was still there.
Cliff reached the stairs. He moved downward. He observed a light in the old barber shop. He stole close to the open door. There he saw Diamond Rigler lifting the receiver from the hook of a pay telephone.
That phone was out of order! It bore a placard to that effect.
Cliff stared as Diamond adjusted the mouthpiece. Then came a strange sound from the receiver — a faint hiss that even Cliff could detect.