He didn't have far to travel, for he was almost against the wall.
Maude yanked the door wide just in time to hear the impact of the second rowdy's skull against the side of the apartment house.
IT had all happened with such suddenness, that Maude hadn't judged the rapidity of Cranston's action. She saw him smoothing his clothes in leisurely fashion, as if he had scarcely exerted himself. Stepping to the curb, he waved to the approaching cab.
By the time the taxi stopped, Maude saw Cranston lifting the two limp thugs, a hand clamped tight to the sweatered neck of each. He bundled the pair into the cab. Opening a wallet, he extracted a five-dollar bill from it.
"Drop them somewhere in Central Park," he told the driver, "and keep the change. They'll be more comfortable sleeping it off in the open, than they would be in the alley."
"A couple of drunks, huh?" grunted the driver, "Well, suit yourself.
You've said it with five bucks, mister, and that clinches it." As the cab wheeled away, The Shadow joined Maude in the apartment house. Her admiration for Cranston had received another boost. He rode up with her in the elevator, while she expressed her enthusiasm.
Outside Maude's apartment, Cranston spoke a quiet good-by; then paused long enough to smoke a cigarette, while Maude continued to relate her recollections of the fight.
"Say!" she exclaimed. "The way that bird hit the fire plug! You'd have thought that was what it had been put there for! And when you handled the other
guy, I thought the wall wouldn't stand the strain. I'm going to take a look at the bricks tomorrow, just to see -"
A telephone bell began to ring. It was in Maude's apartment. Cranston said
good-night again, and turned toward the elevator. He heard the apartment door go
shut and stepped back quickly to listen in on Maude's conversation.
Through the thin door, every word was plain.
"Oh, hello, Pinkey." Maude's tone was scornful. "So you called the Bubble Club. Couldn't wait, could you, to find out if anything happened here?...
Listen, if my new friend is a creampuff, they mixed in TNT when they made him."
"Those gorillas of yours looked like baboons when he was through with them! He used jujitsu stuff, and how it worked!... Get this, Pinkey. If you want to keep in good with me, don't try any more rough stuff on my friends..."
"You won't see me tonight? That doesn't bother me. Go on over to the Bubble Club, since you have to. Maybe you'll get some sympathy from old Baldy Ondrey."
When Maude hung up, she looked out into the hall, hoping that Cranston had
not yet gone. The hall was empty. Maude was disappointed. Since she didn't expect to see Pinkey, she would have liked to go out with Cranston. It didn't occur to Maude that since Pinkey had business at the Bubble Club, Cranston would have reason to be there also.
The Shadow had learned that a conference of crooks was due. When Pinkey and his pals discussed their next plans, they would be favored with the presence of an unseen listener.
He would be The Shadow.
CHAPTER X
CRIME'S CONFERENCE
When The Shadow reached the old residence that housed the Bubble Club, he went directly to the roof above the secret elevator. The trapdoor was tightly fixed; but it didn't take The Shadow long to jimmy it.
His method of persuasion was both efficient and noiseless; and the latter factor was important. While The Shadow was at work, he heard faint sounds of the elevator making a descent.
That meant that Pinkey Findlen had arrived to hold conference, in Ondrey's
office.
The elevator was at the bottom of the shaft when the trapdoor came free.
The taut cable offered a means of rapid descent. Hand under hand, The Shadow went downward, until he found a resting place upon the solid top of the elevator.
On his previous visit to Ondrey's office, The Shadow had observed that the
wall panel was slightly higher than the elevator. Reaching from the top of the car, he probed in front of it, until he found a catch. The panel was released; but The Shadow did not spread its sections.
Instead, he was content with a mere quarter inch of space, that enabled him to peer into the office and overhear what passed there.
The Shadow was correct in his assumption that Pinkey had arrived. The big-shot occupied the center of the office and two others were present with him. One was Claude Ondrey; the other, Slick Thurley.
It happened that Bugs Hopton was absent; and from the conversation, it came apparent that the leader of the strong-arm crew was not expected.
"Tonight, we frame Bron." Pinkey made that statement in positive tone.
"The way we'll handle it, the job will be the neatest one we've staged. There won't be a chance of The Shadow mooching in to queer it."
Slick Thurley added a nod; he knew the general plan, but Claude Ondrey hadn't yet heard the details. His fat face showed worry; he was mopping sweaty spots from his baldish forehead.
"Don't get jittery," rasped Pinkey. "We ain't yanking you into it, Ondrey!
Bugs Hopton is the guy that's going to start things."
"Which means a mob," reminded Ondrey, "and that may bring cops - and The Shadow."
"Not tonight," assured Pinkey. "Bugs is working alone. Just so you'll be posted, I'll give you the set-up."
Pinkey began his explanation.
"First of all," he declared, "Bron is going to be in his office until midnight. He's cleaning up an auditing job, so he can go over the World Oil interests books tomorrow. What's more, we know that Bron will be alone in his office. That's where Bugs will walk in on him."
ONDREY'S nervousness returned. Pinkey gave a harsh laugh;
"Bugs won't begin by pulling a gat," declared the big-shot. "He's going to
hand Bron a letter of recommendation given to him by a sap named Roy Parrington.
Bron will think that Bugs has come to ask for a job."
"Parrington?" questioned Ondrey, suddenly. "I seem to know that name."
"Maybe you do," returned Pinkey. "Parrington goes around to a lot of bright spots; he's probably been here. He's an advertising promoter; at least, that's what he calls himself. But he spends most of his time playing the races.
That's how Bugs got acquainted with him - by giving him tips on the ponies."
"And Parrington knows Bron?"
"Of course. That's why Bron won't be suspicious when he sees the letter.
But he won't have a job for Bugs. That'll make Bugs mad."
For the first time, Ondrey showed a smile. Evidently, he had begun to picture certain fine points of this game.
"You know what Bugs is like when he pretends he's goofy," reminded Pinkey.
"They call him 'Bugs' because of the way he can stage the nut act. From then on,
its a cinch!"
"Bron will get scared and try to heave him out. Bugs will yank a gat and Bron will make a grab for it. There'll be a blank shot and - blooey! - Bugs will be flopped like he was dead with Bron holding the rod."
It was Slick who put in the next approval.
"Bugs can fake that dead stuff as good as I can," declared Slick. "We've both seen so many boobs get croaked that we know the way it looks."
Pinkey strode across the floor, pointing here and there, picturing the future scene.
"Suppose this is Bron's office," he declared. "There's Bugs on the floor; Bron standing over here, with the heater in his mitt. The door opens; I step in, like some guy who heard the shot from another office.
"While I'm listening to Bron, like I was friendly and believe his story, in comes Slick. He flashes that badge of his, says he's Bill Quaine, the dick.
Only he won't believe Bron's story. He'll talk about pinning a murder rap on the guy."