He grasped one end of a coffin, and Major took the other. Deacon and Ferret joined in the work.
Soon a row of caskets stretched across the floor, and Deacon signaled that the work had been completed.
"Come on," said Major, to Ferret.
The man of military bearing opened the panel in the end of the room. He and Ferret entered the passage, Major lighting the way with a flashlight. The panel closed behind them.
"All right," said Deacon.
Butcher went through the door toward the stairs. Deacon looked carefully about him. He made sure that everything was as he wanted it. Then, with an air of satisfaction, he followed the path that Butcher had taken.
One minute went by; then another. Something moved at the side of the room. The top of one casket was pushed slowly upward. It was the very coffin that Butcher had started to lift when Deacon had stopped him.
The lid was balanced high, now, and a figure was emerging from the casket. Scarcely more distinct than a black specter, the form slipped from its hiding place. A tall being stood beside the pile of new caskets and gently lowered the raised lid.
Then the black form moved to the center of the room. He seemed like a ghostly phantom in that dimly lighted morgue. The flowing cloak and the slouch hat rendered him impenetrable. It was The Shadow!
Noiselessly, the black apparition strode to the panel that blocked the passage which Major and Ferret had taken. He opened the secret entrance, and stood there, listening. Then his concealed lips emitted a laugh that was both vague and mysterious. It was a soundless, mirthless tremor — a peculiar, guarded tone that made the air reverberate, yet did not carry beyond the walls of that cellar room.
The Shadow stepped through the panel. It closed behind him. His flashlight flickered for a moment; then went out as he felt his way along the corridor.
Hidden in the coffin, The Shadow had anticipated this meeting. Through the narrow slit between the casket and its lid, he had seen and heard. He had learned the plans for this evening, and his shrewd, keen-thinking mind had formulated a plan that would thwart the game that was being played tonight. Stowed away long before Deacon and Major had met, The Shadow's secret presence had never been suspected. He had come from the dark of the coffin. He had entered the dark of the secret corridor. A few minutes after the panel had closed behind The Shadow, Deacon returned to await his companions' return. He had posted Butcher, and had decided to stay downstairs.
All was well, Deacon thought as he stared solemnly about the room. Major and Ferret would do their job. He was ready here. For once, Deacon permitted a slight smile to spread upon his lips. Deacon sensed no danger. There was none. The menace of The Shadow was no longer in this morgue. It had traveled after Major and Ferret.
The Shadow was at work!
Chapter XVII — Judge Keeps an Appointment
In the dimly lighted banking room of the Middletown Trust Company, Major and Ferret were at work. Together, they were removing stacks of bank notes from the vault.
Only the portion of the room close by the vault was illuminated. The two men knew that they were safe from observation. The lower windows of the bank were closed with metal shutters. Any glow of light that might be seen from above would not attract suspicion, for night work was not unusual in the Trust Company.
There was a watchman on duty, but he was stationed at the outer door, and had not yet begun to make his rounds. There was a reason. Judge had chosen the watchman, and had gradually inculcated certain habits in the man's actions.
Ferret was whispering a few gleeful words to Major as they continued their work.
"Old Jimmy, the watchman," he said derisively. "Sitting out there, dead to the world — deaf as they make them. Judge certainly picked a swell bozo in that guy."
"He's only on a couple of nights a week," replied Major. "A relief man. What you say works two ways. It means we've got to be on the lookout. It's a night like this that someone might try to get in here." Ferret made no reply. He understood the significance of the remark. Major was making a guarded reference to The Shadow. The suggestion brought a remote suspicion into Ferret's mind.
"You're sure you looked everywhere?" questioned Major cautiously.
"Everywhere," said Ferret. "As soon as we came in. You did some snooping around the offices yourself. If anyone is in this place, he must be a midget. I didn't look in the wastebaskets."
"Never mind the wisecracks," responded Major. "Let's start this load downstairs. Then you keep on. I'll do the relay work. That leaves me in here all the time."
The staircase was not thirty feet away. There was one small light burning in the room below, but the stairs themselves were dark, reflecting no light from above or below.
While Ferret and Major were completing their preliminary work, a splotch of blackness slowly emerged from the stairway. A long silhouette appeared upon the marble wall. It flitted into the gloom beyond the range of the light by the vault, unobserved by either Major or Ferret.
Each man picked up a neatly arranged bundle of money. The loads were hoisted to their shoulders. Major went first, then Ferret. When the stoop-shouldered man reached his companion, Major pointed officiously to the open panel.
"Slide along, Ferret," he said, walking toward the stairway. "Take your bundle and come back for mine. I'll bring more down."
"Right," said Ferret.
"When I get to the last, I'll wait for you upstairs. I want you to be there when I close the vault. We'll look it over together and rearrange all that's left."
"Right."
Major's tone, unconsciously a bit louder than it should have been, was audible at the top of the stairs, as well as in the room below.
Returning to the vault, Major continued to arrange the bundles. He strictly avoided certain packages. The work of rifling was confined to one portion of the vault. Piles of crisp notes on the right side were ignored.
Major did not hurry in his work. He was checking bank-note numbers as he proceeded.
Every few minutes, he shouldered a new bundle, and took it below. He had the short end of the relay. At last Major stood back and surveyed the interior of the vault. He rubbed his hands together with a satisfied air, went to the head of the stairs, and listened. He heard a slight noise, and tiptoed downward a few paces.
"Ferret," Major whispered.
"Right," came the response. "The last load's down."
"O.K. I'll take it through."
"Tell Deacon he can shove off."
"Right."
"Then come back to the vault."
Several minutes later, Ferret appeared and joined Major at the door of the vault. The men began a low conversation. They were staring toward the vault as they spoke.
Neither observed the tall, gliding shadow that was moving toward the head of the steep stairs. It merged with the darkness, just beneath the solid paneled rail at the head of the stairs.
Major was speaking to Ferret, and his tones could be clearly heard from the spot at the top of the steep steps.
"How is Deacon making out?" he queried.
"Packing away," answered Ferret. "Butcher is down at the foot of the stairs by the morgue. He can hear any noise from above, and he's near enough to talk to Deacon."
"Have the drivers come?"
"No. They phoned. Told Deacon they'll be a little late."
"Did you tell Deacon we'd be there?"
"Yes. He said to be careful. As soon as the men show up, he's going to stow Butcher away. Then the drivers will carry up the caskets. Deacon is going along with them, to see that they deliver the coffins in good shape. We've got to watch out that we don't go blundering in there while the men are carrying out the coffins."
"That's right."
"So Deacon says that he told Butcher to come through and let us know as soon as he has started away with the drivers. We can either be here or in the passage. Then the three of us can slide away from the undertaking joint, one at a time."