The counterthrust was under way. The Shadow’s belief that Slade Farrow was not through in Southfield was justified by the presence of these three.
“YOU’RE here.” Farrow was speaking in a low tone to the three men who had perched themselves upon boxes. “I’ve done plenty for all of you since you left the pen. You’ve wanted to pay me in return. This is your chance.”
Nods and pleased grins were the response. Despite their criminal propensities, these men seemed to possess a sense of loyalty to the one who had brought them here.
“There’s others that I might have picked.” Farrow was stern in his statement. “I could have brought in a bigger crew. But I chose the three of you. I’ve got work to do, from under cover.
“You know my rule. No questions asked. I’m going to put you to work in the lines that you know. The game is mine — remember that. There may be trouble; if there is, you take the chances along with me.”
The prospect did not disturb the listeners. On the contrary, they stared at Farrow and registered pleased expressions.
“I’m running a clothing store here in Southfield,” explained Farrow. “The business is on the level. Dave and Louie are working for me. In the store and out, those two will look like me. We’re honest people making money in this town through a legitimate business.
“Our job is to cover up. It’s going to get hot before you three fellows have finished with what you’re going to do. Hotter and hotter. But you’ll like it if I know you right. I figure the whole scheme is worth the risk.”
“Then I figure the same,” vouchsafed Tapper.
“Me too,” chimed in Skeets.
Hawkeye made no reply. The little fellow’s beady eyes were roaming about the room. He caught Farrow’s gaze and put a sudden question.
“What kind of mugs are we up against?” queried Hawkeye.
“The police force here,” responded Farrow, “is insufficient. The town, however, boasts of a wiseacre named Eric Griffel. He runs an athletic club which is the headquarters of men who act as vigilantes. They run crooks out of town — when they find them.”
“Those were the mugs that were watchin’, eh?” sneered Hawkeye. “I mean the ones that were out back when we were bein’ unloaded.”
Skeets and Tapper stared. Hawkeye laughed.
“Say” — the little man’s tone was scornful — “you guys don’t wise to nothin’. These boxes we were in have got cracks in ‘em, haven’t they? Well — don’t you think I was wise enough to be lookin’ — an’ listenin’?
“I spotted some boobs around that back alley. I was figurin’ on somethin’ like it. Why do you think the boss here lugged us in the way he did?”
“You’re right, Hawkeye,” spoke Farrow. “Griff’s men are on watch. That’s why I smuggled you through. I know this fellow Griff, and he’s keeping tabs on me. But I’m going right ahead and he won’t stop us.”
“Leave it to Hawkeye,” commented Tapper. “He can spot anything a mile away.”
“I’ll bet the same,” added Skeets. “I’ll bet that Hawkeye could even spot The Shadow.”
The little man looked quickly at the speaker. His beady eyes showed nervousness. Grins faded as Hawkeye glanced at the others.
“Say!” Hawkeye’s whisper was hoarse as he addressed Slade Farrow. “The Shadow ain’t in on this deal, is he, boss?”
“Not a chance of it,” returned Farrow.
“The Shadow’s a tough bimbo to buck,” warned Hawkeye. He arose from the packing case on which he had been sitting. “I’m tellin’ you, an’ I know. Listen. When I went to stir, I was glad to get there. I’ve been glad I’ve always been layin’ low since. You ask me why? I’ll tell you. Because of The Shadow.”
Silence. Hawkeye licked his lips in worried fashion.
“I was hooked up with some big shots,” resumed the crafty little man. “I know who got ‘em. It was The Shadow. I’ve trailed that guy.”
“You know who he is?” queried Tapper.
“Me?” Hawkeye laughed nervously. “Say — there ain’t nobody knows who The Shadow is — except The Shadow. All I found out about him was enough to make me call it quits.”
“You mean,” interposed Farrow, sternly, “that if The Shadow should appear in Southfield, you would refuse to work for me?”
“I ain’t sayin’ that, boss,” pleaded Hawkeye. “Don’t get me wrong. When I begin a job, I stick. I’m just tellin’ you — I don’t want to get mixed around The Shadow.
“That guy was due to get me once — The Shadow was. I ain’t boastin’ when I tell you that I’m the one bird keen enough to spot him. Maybe there was others like me — if there was, they ain’t around no more to brag.
“I ain’t felt right since I got in this joint. It wasn’t those hicks out in the alley that worried me, neither. I’m tellin’ you — I get hunches that other people don’t. There’s somethin’ about The Shadow — just his bein’ on the ground — that I can feel.
“I’m suspicious of this joint. I ain’t said nothin’ yet, but I’m tellin’ you that when I feel this way it means somebody’s lookin’ in.”
As Hawkeye’s sentence ended, there was a motion beyond the door to the next compartment. The watching eyes of The Shadow disappeared from the crack. Yet not a sound marked his withdrawal.
HAWKEYE stared toward the door to the passage. Then, with a swift turn, he glanced toward the very door that The Shadow had left. While the others watched, Hawkeye sneaked across the room and opened the door of the smaller compartment. Light over his shoulder revealed the room as being empty.
The Shadow had reached the passage. While Hawkeye stared into the little compartment, The Shadow was moving noiselessly toward the stairs. All backs were in his direction, for the other men were watching Hawkeye’s actions.
When the little fellow turned back into the big room, he was again too late to spy The Shadow. The messenger from the night had reached the steps and had glided upward. Hawkeye mopped his brow and returned to the packing case.
“Maybe I’m nervous,” he admitted. “But that don’t mean nothin’ good. When I get that way, it’s because I’m wise to somethin’ that ain’t right.
“It felt like eyes were burnin’ on me — but it don’t feel that way now. Just the same, boss” — Hawkeye paused to address Farrow in serious fashion — “I’d like to look upstairs in this place. I ain’t foolin’ — when I get worried, it means somethin’.”
“All right, Hawkeye,” agreed Farrow. “I brought you here to spot anything that might be wrong. You two stay here, Skeets and Tapper. Hawkeye will go up with me; he’ll be back after he’s gone through the place inspecting it.”
With Hawkeye at his heels, Farrow left the store room. He conducted Hawkeye to the little office, then let the little man into the store, which was dimly illuminated by street lights that shone through the barred show windows.
The next move was up the stairs to the apartment. Hawkeye prowled about in shady corners after Farrow had put on one light. Satisfied that no one was here, Hawkeye returned downstairs.
The delay on the first floor had given The Shadow opportunity for departure through the apartment window. Smoothly, he had made his way down the brick wall and off through the darkness of the back street, undetected by Griff’s watchers, who were still prowling in the offing.
Shortly afterward, burning eyes stared toward the Southfield Clothing Shop from the window of the hotel room occupied by Lamont Cranston. The Shadow had returned to his temporary abode.
A soft laugh died in a suppressed whisper as The Shadow viewed the darkened shop that he had left. That building harbored men competent of any crime — Slade Farrow’s three threats — Tapper, Skeets and Hawkeye.