The detective nodded.
“As for The Shadow,” resumed Weston, “we can only presume that he, by obstructing The Cobra, is trying to confuse the law. The Shadow, Cardona, is wanted.”
“For what?” questioned the detective. “There’s nothing on The Shadow. He made a couple of getaways — but we don’t know that he was doing anything crooked.”
“Cardona is right,” observed Myland, wisely. “You must use discretion, commissioner.”
“Why do you say that?” demanded Weston. “I thought your opinion, Myland, was that The Shadow had turned crook.”
“Indications,” returned Myland, “show The Cobra to be working in behalf of justice. They also show The Shadow in a very unpleasant light. We can say that we have established The Cobra’s status, through your own experience at Old Growdy’s. Conversely, you must establish The Shadow’s status by a definite observation.”
“I understand,” nodded Weston. “Cardona, I am ordering a strict watch for The Shadow. Should he be traced in criminal activity — or anything that resembles it — we will not stop until we have captured The Shadow, dead or alive.
“At the same time, The Cobra is immune. He is doing splendid work. Perhaps, through his efforts, we may be able to disclose facts concerning The Shadow.”
“You hit it, commissioner!” The eager statement came from Crawler Gorgan. “You’ve said just what’s going to happen.”
“How is that, Gorgan?”
“HERE’S the lay, commissioner. Understand — this ain’t all my own idea. It’s what I’ve been hearing — specially since last night. Do you know what King Zobell was?”
“A big shot racketeer.”
“More than that, commissioner.” Crawler was nodding wisely. “He was the only real big shot left. The Cobra got some of them — the rest have taken it on the lam.”
“Is that right, Cardona?” questioned Weston, in a surprised tone.
“It looks that way,” agreed the detective. “All the other big shots have beat it. Some of the fellows who were running Zobell’s rackets are sliding out, now that King has taken the bump.”
“Revolution in the underworld!” exclaimed Weston.
“Say chaos, rather,” interposed Myland, sagely. “Mobsters galore — but no leader.”
“And none of the little guys want to be big,” declared Crawler. “That’s something, commissioner.”
“On account of The Cobra?”
Crawler Gorgan nodded.
“Good logic,” decided Myland. “The Cobra has lopped off the heads. As new leaders rise, he will cut them down. But apparently, there will be no new leaders. There is opportunity, though.” Myland shook his head in worried fashion. “If anyone should dare to organize those bands, in opposition to The Cobra—”
“There’s only one guy big enough to do it!” blurted Crawler Gorgan.
“The Shadow!” exclaimed Weston.
Crawler nodded. Myland did the same. Joe Cardona looked glum. He had faith in The Shadow’s integrity.
“Get me right, commissioner,” continued Crawler. “I don’t want to give you a bum steer — and there ain’t nothing to prove that The Shadow has gone crooked.
“I’m just telling you this: there’s plenty of mugs down in the badlands who would follow any guy that they thought was tough enough to pull jobs in spite of The Cobra.
“They’ve razzed The Shadow, but he’s still got ‘em buffaloed. He’s played a lone wolf game. There’s no telling what he could do with a mob behind him. So I’m telling you what to watch for that’s all.”
“Gorgan,” decided Weston, “this is the best report you have produced. There is our task, Cardona. The Cobra, alone, is stronger than The Shadow. If mobs reorganize, there can be but one answer. The Shadow will have become their leader.”
THE commissioner turned to Caleb Myland. The criminologist was sitting with his hands upon the table. His eyes were gleaming. He seemed to be looking into the future.
“I can predict it now!” he declared, with emphasis. “Chaos always produces a leader. Contact with crime produces criminals. Weston, the stage is set!
“I can see but one course for The Shadow. He has lost credit. He has behaved in a suspicious manner. His power has waned; but it can be regained. He has seen a way to take advantage of The Cobra’s deeds. That is why he has sought to block The Cobra.
“The Shadow has failed; but in failing he has won. The Cobra still remains as an avenger; but mobsters, far and wide are looking for a leader. Petty crime may exist for a short while; after that will come a masterstroke.
“Backed by a supercrew of ruffians, The Shadow will deliver crime. The law will find it difficult to thwart him. We can only hope that The Cobra will aid.”
“I believe you, Myland,” declared Weston, soberly. “Nevertheless, we are handicapped for the present. We need proof!” The commissioner thumped the table. “Proof! Cardona has shown that. I believe that The Shadow will appear with dangerous men at his heels — but until he has done so, we cannot act with surety.
“Captured now, The Shadow could not be held. We must wait, Myland — wait in watchful readiness, to see if your prediction is fulfilled.”
“You will see my statements justified,” prophesied the criminologist.
“It looks like something is due to happen soon, commissioner,” asserted Crawler Gorgan. “Still, I ain’t saying anything. I’ll keep my eye out — that’s the best that I can do.”
Joe Cardona made no comment.
“On Wednesday night,” said the commissioner, rising, “we shall meet here again. Is that all right with you, Myland?”
The criminologist nodded.
“You be here, Cardona,” ordered the commissioner. “If Gorgan is available, bring him with you. If it is unsafe for him to come, get his report. Use your own judgment in that matter.
“Perhaps, by Wednesday night, we may have evidence of the sort that we are seeking. At any rate, I shall confer with you, Myland.”
The criminologist nodded to close the conference. There was something in his knowing smile that made the observers feel that he was sure his convictions would be proven when that next meeting took place within this room.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SHADOW’S CLEW
THE police vigil had been raised from the apartment house where King Zobell and his two bodyguards had been slain. The smashed window in the big shot’s apartment had been attributed to a wild bullet dispatched in that direction. Hence all investigation had been directed to the elevator shaft, which now was barred shut.
The lobby was deserted near the closed shaft. Hence, when a long streak of blackness appeared upon the cracked marble floor, there was no one present to view its strange, creeping motion.
Blackness that moved like a living thing — a streak of inkiness that terminated in a hawklike silhouette. There was a meaning to that splotch. It foretold the appearance of The Shadow!
Into the sphere of light glided a tall, cloaked form. A swish sounded softly as The Shadow’s garment swung to reveal a flash of its crimson interior. The Shadow had returned to the spot where The Cobra had eluded him.
What was the purpose of The Shadow’s visit?
The keen eyes beneath the hat brim were peering along the lobby. Their gaze was searching. They spied the stairway that led below. The Shadow descended.
A tiny flashlight glimmered. Its small circle of bright light focused upon the door of the deserted barber shop. The Shadow entered the unused room. His flashlight glimmered about the walls. It centered on the telephone which bore the placard:
Out of Order.
The light moved closer. A black-gloved hand rested upon the coin box. The Shadow’s keen eyes studied the object before them. Long fingers, prying here and there, reached the mouthpiece and turned it a scarce quarter inch.