Fifteen minutes later, the elevator panel slid open. Ondrey turned to see Bugs Hopton and two thugs bringing in a muffled burden. The prisoner hadn't put
up a battle, but the rough mob had not handled her too gently.
Her head was muffled in a piece of cloth that looked like a sack. The crooks had ripped away a portion of her dress, to bind her hands and feet.
When
they rolled her on a couch in the corner, Ondrey raised an objection.
"That isn't the way you were to handle her," he told Bugs. "I thought you said she didn't put up a fight."
"That's right," agreed Bugs. "But we wanted to see to it that she didn't change her mind. Dolls are that way, you know."
"This girl is limp!" declared Ondrey worried. "Cut her loose, and do it easy. Get that bag off her head. What was the idea of it, anyway?"
"So she wouldn't see where we were taking her," informed Bugs. "We gagged her first, though."
Ondrey spread his arms in anxiety. He was relieved when he saw the prisoner stir while Bugs was freeing her. The hood came away; but still Ondrey didn't see the girls face, for Bugs was busy removing the handkerchief that gagged her. A moment later, the girl had sagged back upon the couch.
Ondrey pressed forward; he was speaking in his most ingratiating tone:
"I am terribly sorry about this, Miss Jondran. These men were ordered to treat you gently -"
"Cut the stall, Ondrey!" The girl's tone gave harsh interruption, as she swung up from the couch. "Get over there by the desk and raise your mitts! The same goes for the rest of you!"
With the start of that order, the captive tossed her head. Beneath a mass of tousled blond hair, Ondrey saw a face he recognized. This prisoner wasn't Beth Jondran; she was Maude Revelle!
Maude's direct face meant business. In her hand she held a gun, that she had whipped from within her dress. She had caught Bugs and his mobbies totally off guard, along with Ondrey. Not one of the three thugs had a gun where he could reach it.
"Pinkey thinks he's a wise guy." Maude's tone was loud; Ondrey was afraid it would penetrate to the hall outside the office. "That's why he never introduced me to any of his pals, except you, Ondrey.
"He said he was going to treat the dame right; so to make sure about it, I
grabbed her car myself. Well, look at the way I am. Were these gorillas gentle?
I'll say they weren't! They were dumb, though; too dumb to frisk me.
"That's why they didn't find this gat that I picked up in the car. And guess who told me to run off with that roadster. The same guy that left the gun
for me! The one real guy I've ever met. The Shadow!"
The name brought a hoarse cry from Ondrey. His alarm spread to Bugs and the thugs. It was Bugs who decided to rely on force of numbers. He urged his two pals with the hoarse shout:
"Grab the dame! She won't shoot!"
Mobsters never made that surge. The door of the office flung inward.
Across the threshold came three men: Harry Vincent, followed by two other agents of The Shadow. Their guns had the crooks covered.
Settling behind his desk, Ondrey recognized the faces of the invaders.
All
of them had been seated at a table near the passage to the office. Maude had known that they would be ready. That was why she had given her shrill denunciation of the crooks.
The Shadow's agents bound the prisoners, all except Ondrey. Maude kept the
night club owner covered with a gun.
"I was going to bawl you out for crossing the dope," she told him, "but that wasn't needed. I didn't have to argue that there had been a mistake. I saw
my chance to cover the lot of you, and I took it."
There was a ring from the telephone. Maude ordered Ondrey to answer, and talk sweet. He did his best; then gulped that he didn't know the voice on the wire. It was a quiet voice, he said; but no name had been announced.
Harry Vincent took the telephone abruptly, to speak with Burbank. He made notations during that brief conversation. Hanging up, he strode across the office and dialed the combination of Ondrey's safe.
Ondrey sat riveted with amazement. Maude's voice came to his ears.
"The Shadow knows everything, don't he?" queried the girl. "So this is where Pinkey kept his swag! Well, its going back to the people it belongs to.
But not for a while, yet.
"We're staying right here, Ondrey, in case Pinkey calls. If he does, you tell him that you've got Beth Jondran as a prisoner. We wouldn't want to queer the rest of Pinkey's game, would we?"
NUMBLY, Claude Ondrey slumped deep in his chair. The sarcasm in Maude's voice had told him further details of The Shadow's scheme. Pinkey was going through with his present game; but it wasn't going to work out the way the big-shot expected. The whole setup had been turned in The Shadow's favor.
But there was one point that even Ondrey didn't realize. That was the method whereby The Shadow had arranged to turn the tables on Pinkey Findlen, in
the midst of the big-shots coming action.
If The Shadow's plan went well, Pinkey would actually feel the thrill of victory, only to have it wrenched from his grasp. For The Shadow was counting upon more than mere triumph in a final battle. The Shadow's purpose was to clear the names of helpless dupes; to gain vengeance for past crimes, as well as present; to forever squelch the man who had become Manhattan's biggest racketeer: Pinkey Findlen.
That task seemed huge, even for The Shadow. But that was because men of crime had not guessed the hidden fact upon which The Shadow depended.
CHAPTER XIX
THE FINAL TERMS
GILES Jondran lived in a pretentious mansion secluded behind a high wall that cut it off from the hubbub of Manhattan. It wasn't easy for visitors to gain entry there; but Pinkey Findlen had a way. He depended upon Slick Thurley.
"You tell 'em, Slick," ordered Pinkey. Then, with a derisive snort, "I mean, you tell 'em, Bill."
Pinkey's companion told him. He informed Jondran's servant that he was Detective Quaine, arrived on an important duty from headquarters. The servant was convinced; but the two visitors didn't see Jondran right away.
Instead, they cooled their heels in a huge reception room that looked as high as it was wide.
"Who'd want to live in a joint like this?" grumbled Pinkey. "Say - that thing" - he referred to a massive crystal chandelier - "looks like it would come down and crack you on the konk. But, getting back to the point: why ain't Jondran seeing us, Slick?"
Slick didn't reply. Pinkey saw him peering out into the hallway, listening
for the approach of servants. Finally, he must have heard someone, for Pinkey saw him step back wearing one of the knowing grins that suited the part of Bill
Quaine.
A flunky arrived to conduct the visitors to Jondran's study. They followed
a long hall; came to a massive doorway. Entering a little anteroom, Pinkey saw a
heavy metal grille barring a doorway on the left. Beyond the grille was a room;
it was dimly lighted, and Pinkey spied the door of a huge vault. There was another door on the right; it was of oak. The servant rapped at that door.
There was a call to come in; the visitors were introduced to a large study, where Giles Jondran sat behind a massive desk. The only lights were near
the desk itself, leaving the depths of the room vague, except at one wall, where
flames were crackling merrily in a wide fireplace.
Jondran's face was kindly, but marked with lines that gave him a keen expression. His eyes had a steady sparkle, beneath the grayish brows that matched his hair. His tone was businesslike, when he asked:
"Which one of you is Detective Quaine?"
Pinkey nudged toward the man beside him. Jondran inquired regarding Quaine's business here. It developed that Quaine had come for the sole purpose of introducing Mr. Findlen, which he did.