“Listen, you mugs,” he barked, “you’re crooks! What’s more, you know it! You committed robbery. We’ve got plenty on you. But all these fellows want is what belongs to them. Savvy? Come on! Spill it! Where’s that box-load of dough?”
Perry stared defiantly, and Zane copied his cousin’s example. Mallan’s tone became a fierce snarl. The detective was breaking forth with threats.
“I could plug you rats full of lead!” he snarled. “I’d be thanked for it if I did. But I’m going to make you talk. If you don’t—”
MALLAN did not complete the statement. He heard a frightened gasp. He turned to note Rowland. The servant was quaking, ready to speak.
“Keep the wise guys covered,” said Mallan to the philanthropists. “All right, flunky. You know something, eh? Spill it.”
“The box” — Rowland’s voice came fitfully — “the box — it’s upstairs. I think. In the secret room that was used by my old master—”
“Have you seen it?” quizzed Mallan.
“No, sir,” blurted the servant, “but it must be there. Don’t— don’t shoot the young masters, sir. I can show you the room. They— they’ve been there—”
Perry hissed an interruption. Rowland quavered. Mallan laughed. Deliberately, he pocketed his revolver.
He motioned Rowland toward the door.
“Keep these mugs covered,” said Mallan to the philanthropists. He pointed to Perry and Zane. “They’ve got a hide-out. That’s why they’re playing dumb. But old faithful here knows about it. I won’t need a rod to handle him. Come on, bozo. Say — what’s your name?”
“Rowland, sir.”
“Better than Timothy” — Mallan paused to flash a gleaming grin at Lucius Zurick — “so come along, whiteface. Let’s see this secret room you’ve been talking about. If the box is there, I’ll let you help me lug it downstairs.”
Rowland preceded the detective to the door. The servant seemed completely cowed.
Perry, grim-faced, glared at the three philanthropists. He was wondering what stuff they were made of.
He saw.
Zurick’s parchmentlike features were unyielding. Laverock’s upright form bespoke determination. Kent, though slouched, was as stern as the others. Perry made no move; nor did Zane.
But the elder heir began to speak. His words became scoffing. He took advantage of the interim while all were waiting to hurl accusing words at the captors.
“Smug fellows,” he challenged. “Coming here for what you call your rights. Actually defying the law. Trying to get back cash that never belonged to you. I can tell by your faces what you are.
“Hypocrites!” Perry hurled the denunciation. “Hypocrites! No — the term is too good for you. Thieves! That’s what you are. Well, you’ve played your game. You think you’ve won it. But you’re wrong. All wrong! Listen” — Perry’s tone was a harsh growl — “and take my advice. Drop those guns that you are holding. Pay heed to what lies close behind you. Do you understand?”
The last words were slow. Zane knew their meaning, for he was staring at the door behind the three philanthropists. Zurick, Laverock and Kent — they understood also; for their guns dropped from their numbed fingers.
Seven creeping men had come in from behind. Uncouth ruffians had sneaked upon the philanthropists while the three were listening to Perry’s sarcastic accusations. Each of the three signet wearers could feel the muzzle of a revolver thrust against his back.
Hands came up as the three dropped their guns. In response to jeering orders, the philanthropists backed against the wall. Zane stared bewildered. Perry laughed coarsely as he made an ironical introduction.
“Allow me,” said Perry, indicating two of the ruffians, then bowing to the philanthropists. “I wish to introduce my friends — Hoot Shelling and Greasy Karn. They have aided me in the past; and they have come to assist me once again.
CHAPTER XIX. TABLES TURN
OF all the astonished persons in that room. Zane Dolger was the most bewildered. The three philanthropists had been surprised; but their faces showed a certain understanding. To Zane, however, this denouement had come as a startling revelation.
Rescuers had arrived; but they were crooks. An evil crew had aligned itself with his cousin. For the first time, Zane realized that Perry had played a double game. Perry — a crook. The thought was numbing.
But Zane was due for another stroke of treachery.
“Keep them covered” — Perry, sneering, was pointing to the philanthropists — “and as for this guy” — a chuckle as Perry pointed to Zane — “keep a rod on him as well. The sap!”
Zane’s hands went up automatically. Other gorillas had entered. Nearly a full dozen had assembled.
Leading them, ready at Perry’s beck, were the two who had been introduced as Hoot Shelling and Greasy Karn.
“You wanted a showdown,” declared Perry. “You’ve got it! I was figuring something might happen tonight. This bunch came from the hide-out. I called them” — he paused to turn toward Zane — “when I pretended I was phoning Jackling. I told them to be here soon after nine. I called again to make sure they were on their way.
“Well, gang” — this was to the crooks in general — “we’ve come to the last job. It’s a cinch, boys! Just keep those gats ready. Spread out around the room. We’ve got a little while to wait.
“In the meantime” — he turned to the philanthropists — “I’ll tell you something. I don’t know how you three grabbed my grandfather’s dough — along with Phraytag — but I take it that you’re honest. You’re too dumb looking to be otherwise.”
Perry paused. Having revealed himself as a crook, he seemed to relish the act. He had tired of the part that he had played to dupe Zane.
“As for me,” stated Perry, proudly, “I’ve been crooked all along. Got out of France because I’m wanted for murder there. Under the name of Jacques Duross. That won’t do you any good. You won’t live to tell it.
“I’ve been everywhere — always crooked — and I came here to pick up soft dough. My grandfather’s heritage. It didn’t look so hot after I got it. Then this fool cousin of mine” — a nudge toward Zane — “found a secret room. Spotted clues that led to Philip Lyken and was sap enough to tell me.
“I knew the dough was somewhere. I followed the clue, with Zane trailing along with me. Lyken told us about Phraytag. He told us all he knew. That meant curtains for Lyken.”
Perry paused again to survey the crew of thugs who were stationed about the room. To a man, they would serve Hoot Shelling; yet Perry saw need of caution. He smiled as he proceeded.
“I KNOW the underworld of every big city,” boasted Perry. “I located Hoot in New York. Phraytag had to be bumped. I could do the job myself. But I let Hoot and his mob cover it.”
“That fellow there — Greasy Karn — did his part in the game by sawing into Lyken’s place. He and Hoot opened the way. I entered, shot Lyken, touched off the fuse. Then the explosion.”
Another laugh. It became more evil as Perry Dolger saw the contempt that had appeared on the face of his cousin, Zane.
“Greasy picked the locks at Phraytag’s. I got in there, poisoned the old fellow. That ought to interest you old chaps” — Perry turned to the philanthropists — “because he was probably one of your bunch. Well, after Phraytag was croaked, I had Greasy waiting out at the cemetery the day that old Phraytag was buried.
“It was a cinch for Greasy to open the mausoleum. I went in and got the ring. Told cousin Zane I used the caretakers key. Zane helped get the swag I wanted. From you — you three dried-up peanuts out of your shells.”
Perry paused. His eyes were fierce. He motioned for silence as his henchmen shifted. Listening, he heard no sounds. He completed his story in a low, mean voice.