The commissioner looked glum. He sat in meditative silence and Cardona did not disturb him. Then came the click of the opening door. Weston uttered an exclamation of satisfaction as Myland appeared.
“Sorry, gentlemen,” remarked the gray-haired criminologist. “I was detained in Philadelphia. It meant only one hour’s delay in reaching here, so I did not call by long distance. I came by taxi from the Pennsylvania Station.”
“I didn’t hear a cab drive up,” observed Weston. “If I had, I would have come to the door to meet you.”
“This study is secluded,” was Myland’s rejoinder. “One cannot hear automobiles when they arrive in the driveway at the front of the house.”
“We have news for you, Myland,” declared Weston, suddenly. “It is important news — from Gorgan. Tell the facts to Mr. Myland, Cardona.”
“CRAWLER GORGAN phoned me,” asserted Cardona. “He was near a dive known as The Black Ship. He observed mobsters gathering.
“Crawler could not recognize them in the dark. They were getting into parked cars; and to all appearances they were preparing for some raid.
“It was too late for me to reach Commissioner Weston by telephone, for I was at the place where I meet Crawler and I was ready to start here. I ordered Crawler to slide back to the Black Ship — to see what else he could learn — then to either call me here or to come with his report.”
“I have used your telephone to call headquarters,” said Weston, to Myland. “Inspector Klein has sent two capable men down to the vicinity of the Black Ship. They have instructions to be cautious.”
“A mob assembling,” remarked Myland, thoughtfully. “A mob — despite the unsettled conditions in the underworld—”
The telephone bell rang. Myland picked up the receiver and handed the instrument to Weston. The police commissioner heard the voice of Inspector Timothy Klein. He held a short conversation; then hung up.
“The men have reported to Klein,” informed Weston. “There are no cars near the Black Ship. All is quiet there. Yet we have not heard from Crawler Gorgan—”
“Crawler may be on his way here,” interposed Cardona. “If he found out what the mob is doing, and had time to get here, he would come, rather than call.”
“Of course,” decided Weston.
“A mob assembling.” Caleb Myland was repeating his interrupted statement. “That means leadership. Someone is reorganizing the forces of the underworld. Shattered hordes have been assembled by a mighty chief.”
“The Shadow!” exclaimed Weston.
“I think so,” nodded Myland.
“Listen, commissioner!” Joe Cardona was on his feet. “This thing is coming to a showdown. I think you’re all wrong about The Shadow. If he was going crook, he’d have done it long ago.”
“He did not have the opportunity,” reminded Weston, in an angry tone.
“I don’t agree with you, commissioner.” Cardona was blunt. “He could have made the opportunity. I’ve got a theory of my own. Here it is.
“Who’s been knocking off the big shots? I’ll tell you. The Cobra! Why? Because by clearing them out, he’s left the very opening you’ve talked about — but it’s an opening for himself! The Cobra’s the one that’s ready to organize!”
“Preposterous!” exclaimed the indignant commissioner. “Cardona, such remarks at this critical time come almost as insubordination!”
“You’ll hear me out!” insisted Cardona. “You accuse The Shadow of having tried to block The Cobra’s work. All right — suppose he has. Maybe he knows that The Cobra is actually a smart crook — maybe he knows what’s coming.
“Take it from me — that gang that Crawler’s been watching don’t belong to The Shadow. He doesn’t deal with crooks. If some hidden hand is behind the outfit, The Cobra is the one!”
“No more!” Weston drove his fist against the table. “Cardona, you will answer for this absurd talk. The Cobra has proven his worth. The Shadow has shown his questionable tendencies. Tonight, let us hope, we will gain positive facts. Perhaps this crook, The Shadow, will become too bold. Your theory, Cardona, is outrageous—”
“One moment, commissioner,” Caleb Myland was speaking with a placid smile. “We must not curb Cardona’s statements. Any theory — given honestly — is worth consideration. Why not plan what should be done tonight? We need further word from Gorgan, but in the meantime, we can be discussing matters.
“I, like you, believe that The Shadow is a menace. But why mince words when the proof is probably in the making? Perhaps from Gorgan — perhaps from detectives — perhaps from crime itself, we shall know the answer before this night is ended.
“Let the crook reveal himself, as I believe he will — somewhere in New York. Speculation as to his identity will be useless until he has shown his hand.”
Mollified by Myland’s words, the commissioner subsided. He knew that the criminologist was right. Myland, like Weston, held the theory that The Shadow had yielded to the lure of crime; yet Myland was content to wait.
The door opened. It was Babson. The servant seemed nervous. He approached and spoke to Caleb Myland.
“Things aren’t right outside, sir,” he declared. “I was looking from a front window. I thought I saw a man behind a bush near the drive.”
Weston looked up in surprise. Cardona became alert. Myland held up his hand to ease them.
“Babson is imaginative,” he declared. “He knows that I have a large amount of cash in my vault — here in this room. He is always expecting trouble.
“There may be a man outside; perhaps someone from the underworld. I have feared this, but not on my own account. I have been worried about Crawler Gorgan. His job as undercover man is a precarious one. Perhaps he has been spotted making visits here.
“I shall take a look, gentlemen, at the place which Babson has mentioned. It is better that I should go alone. I can peer from the window without being observed. Come, Babson — show me the window—”
Myland was smiling serenely as he moved from behind the table. He was heading toward the door of the study, with Babson at his heels. Weston was watching the criminologist depart. So was Cardona. Both could see the door beyond.
Then came simultaneous gasps. Weston and Cardona leaped to their feet as Myland staggered back. Babson uttered a hoarse scream of terror. All hands went up at the sight of the threatening form that stood within the doorway.
Armed with two automatics, a black-clad form was covering the four men. Tall, menacing in appearance, his features were completely hidden by the bundled collar of his black cloak. The broad brim of a slouch hat was turned down from his forehead.
An ugly laugh came from unseen lips. The automatics moved forward in the gloved hands that held them. Criminal in bearing, this intruder stepped toward the group of helpless men.
A cry of outraged recognition came from Commissioner Weston, as the official voiced the identity that was plain to alclass="underline"
“The Shadow!”
CHAPTER XXIV
THE DUEL
COMMISSIONER RALPH WESTON scowled as he backed toward the wall in response to the gesture of the automatics. Myland showed a worried, bewildered countenance. Babson was terrified. Cardona’s face was hard.
“You asked for crime.” The words came in a harsh sneer from the lips that watchers could not see. “You shall have it. Open the vault in back of you, Caleb Myland.”
Glumly, Joe Cardona stood with upraised hands while Caleb Myland turned to follow the bidding. Joe had staked all on the integrity of The Shadow. This turn of events was wholly unexpected to the detective.