“I have done my part, Morales,” said the Frenchman. “Now is your turn. By our agreement, we were to exchange information and services. I have found out all that you needed. Now I want to know your plans.”
Morales began to laugh. Armagnac wondered why. The Argentinian arose and lighted a cigarette. His mirth continued. When he paused, he faced the Frenchman and explained the reason for his laughter.
“Armagnac,” he said, “you are wondering what I intend to do. You have brought me information that is worth millions; yet you yourself cannot understand its value. Unthinkingly, you have ended your own usefulness in this enterprise.
“I am here with men; with method; with purpose. You are alone. I need you no longer. You have begun to realize that fact. Nevertheless” — his eyes flashed shrewdly — “I place each of us upon an equal basis. Why? Because one and one make two — and two are better than one.
“I am thinking of the future — of the vast possibilities that will open up to two clever men who can work in harmony. You understand? This will be the beginning.
“You ask me my plans? I shall show you. You, Pierre Armagnac, with all your experience, with all your genius, will admire the schemes of Alfredo Morales.”
Approaching the door of the room, Morales uttered a low whistle. Jose entered from the outer door. Morales questioned him.
“Manuel has not returned?”
“No.”
“Remain here, Jose. Keep watch until we return.”
Armagnac expected to see Morales indicate that they were to leave the cottage. Instead, Morales went to a door in the corner of the room. He paused there, and spoke, with dramatic effect.
“You were in the great war, Monsieur Armagnac?”
“Yes,” replied the Frenchman, puzzled.
“There were many successful attacks then,” declared Morales. “Many attacks that were directed against strongholds more formidable than the one in which Lucien Partridge now barricades himself.”
“Quite true.”
“I have my forces, Armagnac. There are men whom you have not seen — men who are waiting. To sweep into Partridge s domain — to carry off that gold — such would not be difficult with proper equipment, provided that—”
Morales paused to observe if Armagnac caught the thought. The Frenchman responded quickly.
“Provided that the way should be open,” he said. “But it would have to be clear for quick action.”
“Exactly,” declared Morales. “Often, in warfare, infantry have gained their objective almost unmolested because of the attack that preceded it.”
“The barrage.”
“Yes. You have named the very method that I intend to use against Lucien Partridge. Come. I shall show you.”
MORALES opened the door. He revealed a flight of steps that led upward. Beckoning, Morales ascended the steps. Armagnac followed, closing the door behind him.
Jose sat down in a chair. His task was to keep watch while his master was on tour of inspection. Jose gazed idly about the room. His eyes sighted the long shape of black that lay upon the floor.
A startled expression crept over Jose’s greasy features. He looked toward the window; then at the black silhouette. Again his eyes were raised toward the window. Jose uttered a gasping scream as he cowered in the chair.
Silently, like a weird phantom of the night, a figure had appeared within the room. There, by the window, stood that strange being whom Jose had encountered on the mound of rocks.
The Shadow’s arms were folded; his long black cloak swayed mysteriously from his shoulders. His fierce eyes glowed beneath the protecting brim of the slouch hat.
Chilling, whispered mockery emerged from invisible lips. That echoing laugh brought terror to Jose. It was unreal, that shuddering mirth that came from the personage in black. The very air seemed tense with the power of The Shadow’s presence.
“Jose” — the words that followed were in Spanish — “I am here to warn you again. Should you speak one word against my bidding, I shall strike. Only while you obey me can you live.”
The Shadow strode across the room. He towered over the cowering form of Jose. His burning eyes fathomed the man in the chair.
Jose could not meet that glance. He turned away, pitifully frightened, expecting doom which he could not prevent. The shuddering laugh echoed in his ears.
Then came silence. Jose waited. Slowly, he turned his head and gazed about the room. He was alone. The being in black had departed. There was no silhouette upon the floor. Jose’s eyes sighted the door through which Morales and Armagnac had gone.
Was that the route which The Shadow had taken? Jose did not know. He was afraid to leave the chair. Still cowering, he waited, hoping that Morales and Armagnac would not be long in returning.
CHAPTER XV
DEATH ARRIVES
ALFREDO MORALES and Pierre Armagnac were standing upon the flat roof of the cottage. A trapdoor lay open behind them. They were not concerned with the route by which they had reached this spot. They were examining a squat, bulky object to which Morales pointed with pride.
This object was a powerful, wide-mouthed mortar, firmly placed in the center of the roof.
“What do you think of this little toy?” questioned Morales, in a low voice.
“It is a beauty!” exclaimed Armagnac.
“You see,” Morales spoke again. “Look there.”
He pointed upward through the space amid the trees off toward the moonlit sky. Armagnac followed the direction that he indicated.
“That is the way to Partridge’s house,” explained Morales. “This mortar will send the messengers that I have prepared. That messenger will clear the way for me.”
A figure was rising through the trapdoor. Neither Morales nor Armagnac saw it. They were staring through the trees. The Shadow grew into a tall, spectral form that moved silently across the roof and merged with the darkness of the single chimney that projected above the house.
“The range?” questioned Armagnac.
“It is perfect,” answered Morales. “This mortar possesses remarkable accuracy. I have found the range by careful calculation. The target is a huge one — Partridge’s mansion.
“The building is visible from different spots along the gorge. I have surveyed it by military engineering. My range is perfect. It cannot fail.”
“But what will be the result?”
“Let me explain my purpose, Armagnac. There is one thing that we must counteract — that one thing is time. To attack Partridge; to overcome resistance; that would be easy. But it would take time. There are state police twelve miles from here. Once an alarm has been spread, they would come to the scene.”
“That is the danger, Morales. After you have begun the attack, you must work swiftly.”
“I am prepared for that. When the time has been set, I shall be waiting with a crew of men and motor trucks, ready to enter and remove the gold. It will be a simple matter, swiftly executed; but one factor is most necessary.”
“The way must be clear.”
“That is it, Armagnac. A stubborn resistance by Partridge and his men would bring about a disastrous delay. That is why I needed the information that you have brought me.
“If the gold were in the large mansion, where Partridge and his men are stationed, the task would present insurmountable difficulties.”
“Because of Partridge and his men? You will encounter them when you attack the workhouse—”
“Partridge and his men will be no obstacle,” interposed Morales. “They will be gone before we enter. They will be buried in the ruins of that old mansion.”
A short exclamation came from Armagnac. Now the Frenchman was beginning to understand the details of the Argentinian’s plan.