A man sprang in from the door. Greaser Bowden. He fired as he came. One wide shot. The Shadow snapped the trigger of his left-hand automatic. The barrel belched flame while the gun was on the move.
Greaser pitched forward. Chunk, coming up, had his chance. His gun was on The Shadow. But his finger faltered. His strength was gone. Swinging to fire, The Shadow withheld his shot as Chunk coughed a last breath and twisted on the carpet.
Swiftly, The Shadow gained the anteroom; then the outer hall. He ran squarely into an elevator man; the fellow was ready with a revolver. The Shadow’s arm was swinging before the man could fire. The thug went down from a gun-clout that landed above his ear.
THE gun volleys had been heard downstairs. The stairway no longer offered sure exodus. Whirling, The Shadow headed back into the apartment. He left the anteroom doors open, to make that appear as his path of escape. In the reception room, he drew forth the probing needle. He pressed it through the tiny hole in the woodwork. The latch clicked. The Shadow opened the door. Calmly, he puttied the tiny hole; then stepped into Dobey Blitz’s private room and closed the door behind him.
The walls of this room were paneled, like the anteroom. With no attempt at haste, The Shadow began a probe. He picked the spots most likely for a hidden panel. His gloved fingers were perfect in their touch.
Muffled shouts were coming from the reception room. Men were pounding at the door. The Shadow kept to his task. A panel clicked; it moved back to reveal a metal plate that had a switch and a push-button. The Shadow swung the switch, then pressed the button.
Thuds at the door. A roared command: “Open, in the name of the law.” The Shadow laughed, with a weird whisper. Police were on the scene. They thought that Dobey Blitz was in here. They wanted to interview the big shot. The Shadow had no time to linger.
Click!
Of a sudden, a large paneled section slid sidewise. Before The Shadow’s eyes was the yawning interior of a tiny elevator that had been brought up by a smooth, silent mechanism. The Shadow entered the car.
He pressed a button. The panel closed; the car began a slow, steady descent, just as the door of the room began to break under shattering blows.
The car came to a stop. Automatically, a wall opened in front of it. The Shadow stepped into a little store room. He saw switch and button on the wall. He pressed the button; the wall closed in front of the car.
Then The Shadow swung the switch and closed a smaller panel like the one in the room of Dobey’s apartment.
The Shadow found an exit through the stone-walled cellar. It led to a grating at the side of the apartment house. He lifted the grating, emerged, and let the iron bars drop. A soft laugh came from his hidden lips as the master sleuth merged with darkness.
Dobey Blitz’s secret was preserved. Only The Shadow had learned it; he had left no trace of his discovery. The secret might serve him later. For the present, The Shadow wanted Dobey Blitz.
Precious time — nearly an hour — had been lost. Dobey Blitz had embarked forth upon crime. It might be too late to stop him now; yet The Shadow had no other thought. He knew the locality where crime might already be under way. That was to be his new objective.
CHAPTER X. CRIME BREAKS
WHILE The Shadow was lingering at the Antrilla Apartments, Dobey Blitz was busy elsewhere. Though he had fared forth on work of crime, the hard-faced big shot was not spectacular at the start. In fact, his actions seemed very leisurely as he strolled along a West Side avenue in the vicinity of the Founders Trust Company.
Near a quiet corner, Dobey observed the man he wanted. It was Lucas, the cop on the beat. Crossing the street, Dobey approached the blue-coat. As Dobey spoke, Lucas looked up in surprise. The officer recognized the shrewd racketeer.
“Hello, Lucas,” greeted Dobey. “Which way are you going on your beat?”
“North,” growled the cop. “Why?”
“I’ll go along with you. I want to talk to you. We’ll stop in back of the old garage, up in the next block.”
Lucas pondered. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he decided to accompany the big shot. Dobey Blitz was not wanted by the law. He had always kept in right with the police. Lucas was anxious to know what was on his mind.
“Listen.” Dobey spoke cautiously as they walked along. “I want to slip you some information. There’s a guy I’m out to get? See?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well — he’s going to pull something. On this beat. If I tip off headquarters, the guy’s friends will know that some one squealed on him. I want to be out of it.”
“I get you.”
“So I’m giving you the lay. Then you can wise up to the job. I won’t be mixed in it; you’ll get plenty of credit. How does that sound?”
“Pretty good, Dobey. They always said you was a good guy.”
“I try to be. It’s going to take me five minutes to give you the dope; but I don’t want to do it out here on the street. That’s why we’re heading off in back of the garage.”
They had reached their destination. They came to the darkness of an alley. Dobey turned on a flashlight.
He handed it to Lucas.
“Keep that glimmer going,” ordered the big shot. “Hold it toward my hands.”
Lucas obeyed. Dobey produced a small stack of papers. He began to go through them by the light of the torch. He stopped at one that showed a diagram of streets.
“Here you are,” growled Dobey. “This is the corner where Tunkey’s pawn shop is located. This arrow there indicates the side entrance to the pawn shop. Over here across the street is a barber shop. That’s where the guy—”
Dobey said no more. He had said enough. Something swished in the dark; Lucas slumped as a blackjack tapped the back of his head. The flashlight went clattering to the cobbles. Dobey picked it up and extinguished it.
“Bring him along,” he ordered.
READY hands picked up the senseless form of Lucas. They carried the cop along the alley and dumped him into a parked car. Dobey joined them. They rode away. Five blocks on, the car stopped in another secluded spot. Dobey alighted and led the way; his henchmen followed, carrying the still unconscious form of the patrolman.
They were three blocks away from the beat that Lucas covered. They came to a subway entrance that was new and boarded up. It was an entrance to the new West Side subway. This high-speed system had been completed for several months. It was awaiting funds before it could be operated.
The boards at the entrance had been loosened. Dobey lifted them and descended, still followed by his henchmen who carried Lucas with them. Down the steps and into the subway itself. Gloom pervaded the long, underground corridor.
There was no watchman here to see the lights that twinkled as a considerable crew tramped through the subway. No tracks or equipment had been laid; there was nothing here to steal or damage. After an evening inspection, the subway was deserted.
Block after block, underground, the crew moved onward. More lights joined. At last, the objective was reached. Dobey’s light became the center of a circle. Big shot and minions were beside a loosely boarded wall — the entrance to a side extension. This spot was located close to the Founders Trust Company.
Loose boards came down. The crew crowded into the side space. Dobey’s light showed a yawning hole.
It was a short tunnel that had been bored through the old, crumbling foundations of the bank building.
“Move in,” ordered Dobey. “You wait here, Sooky, while I muffle my gat.”
Lucas had been laid on the concrete. The cop was stirring weakly. Dobey laughed harshly as he stooped over the blue-clad form. Then came a muffled report, like the fizz of a firecracker. Dobey arose.
“That finishes him,” announced Dobey. “Get to work, Sooky. I want that slug for a souvenir. There’ll be another guy later.”