All had gone well - but not for Pinkey. The Shadow, through his agents, had taken over that part of the game. He was the one who had real reason to be confident.
Wherever The Shadow might be, he knew that his preliminary plans had worked. It happened, however, that circumstances were to undergo a sudden reversal.
Trouble came to the Bubble Club immediately after Pinkey's phone call, trouble in the persons of arrivals who were capable of producing it.
Maude Revelle had replaced the telephone on the desk, after her well-disguised chat with Giles Jondran. Looking toward Claude Ondrey, she saw puzzlement upon the pudgy man's face. Ondrey couldn't figure why Maude had pretended to be Beth Jondran.
"Didn't get it, did you?" queried Maude. "Well, that was to fox Pinkey.
So
he wouldn't start any rough stuff over at Jondran's house. See the point?"
Ondrey saw it; but Bugs Hopton apparently didn't. He stared at Ondrey, as if hoping to read the answer in the latter's expression. What Bugs actually saw
was something that awoke his entire interest.
The wall panel was sliding open!
Whatever Bugs lacked in careful calculation, he was at least an opportunist. He had proven that on various occasions. Bugs could take long chances in a pinch. He proved it once again.
Bugs was the only person who saw the panel start to open. Before the noiseless wall section was fully open, Bugs guessed that the newcomers were members of his own gun crew.
"Look out!" Bugs shouted. "We're covered by guys that are working for The Shadow!"
Two men sprang from the elevator. Bugs was right; they were members of his
outfit. They had come here, wondering what was keeping Bugs. Finding out, they did their best to change the situation.
Like Bugs, they didn't reckon with the ability of The Shadow's agents.
Having been told about the elevator panel, the agents swung to meet the invaders.
Guns spoke. Harry Vincent beat one mobster to the shot. So did Cliff Marsland, another agent, stationed just inside the doorway.
Cliff was reputedly a tough guy, known as a killer in the underworld, which he patrolled for the real purpose of supplying information to The Shadow.
Cliff had stayed in the background to avoid recognition. His range was more difficult; but it didn't matter. Cliff was even quicker with a trigger than Harry.
In dispatching those shots, however, both gave opportunity to others. The two thugs who had been trapped with Bugs, made maddened dives. One reached Harry; the other grabbed Cliff. Though unarmed, they put up a hard struggle.
Even Claude Ondrey came to action. He made a grab for Clyde Burke, third of The Shadow's squad. Wrestling with the reporter, Ondrey had temporary advantage, thanks to his weight. Everyone in the room was in a struggle, except
Bugs and Maude.
Bugs didn't rush for the girl. He'd seen too much of Maude's nerve when she had taken things over on her own. Instead, Bugs dived for the elevator, reaching it behind a barricade of strugglers. The men who had launched forth were sprawled on the floor. Bugs cleared them with a bound.
By the time Maude was able to train her gun on Bugs, the panel went shut.
The shots that she fired merely ruined the decorative woodwork that concealed the slit in the secret door.
Maude couldn't even reach the wall. She was jounced about by the brawlers.
Forgetting Bugs, she turned to aid The Shadow's agents. By that time, they had matters in hand.
Harry and Cliff had beaten down the thugs; Ondrey was backing to his chair, with Clyde's automatic poking his fat stomach.
When Maude gave the details of Bugs Hopton's flight, it was too late to pursue the squinty mobleader.
OUTSIDE the Bubble Club, Bugs found the remnants of his gun crew. He decided that he wouldn't risk a counterattack on Ondrey's office. It would be too risky; furthermore, Bugs knew of someone who might need important aid.
"Listen, guys," he told his outfit. "The big-shot in this racket is Pinkey
Findlen. With him is a fellow named Slick Thurley, who looks like a dick named Bill Quaine. So don't let that fool you, when we meet up with them.
"They're calling on a guy named Jondran; and that's where we're going.
I'll slide in there first, and you lugs be ready when I call for you."
It wasn't far to Jondran's mansion. The street was silent; Bugs opened the
gate and sneaked his five-man crew in among the shrubbery that lined the inner side of the big wall.
Approaching the front door, Bugs rang boldly. He had his gun pocketed by the time a servant appeared.
"I'm here to see a guy named Findlen," began Bugs. "He's in talking to Mr.
Jondran."
The servant looked blank. "There's a dick with him," added Bugs. "A headquarters guy named Bill Quaine. I'm a friend of his."
"You're a detective?"
"Sure! See this badge?" Bugs whipped his coat back, flapped it quickly.
"That fixes it. Let me through."
The servant hadn't seen a badge; but he attributed that fact to the darkness. Obligingly, he let Bugs through, pointing out the way to Jondran's study.
Bugs reached the anteroom. He saw the grilled gate; it was wide open.
Beyond, he observed the two men he had come to see: Pinkey and Slick. They had opened the main door of the vault, and were just finishing the combination of an inner barrier.
They didn't even hear Bugs enter. The inner door came wide; the room lights showed an empty space backed by a brick wall. Bugs heard Pinkey voice an
oath.
"Jondran's stalled us!" rasped the big-shot. "This vault is empty! It ain't even a vault. It hasn't been finished. Wait'll we talk to Jondran. He won't get nowhere with this stuff!"
Pinkey turned about, growling for Slick to do the same. They saw Bugs; Pinkey came up with his gun. Recognizing his own gun, Pinkey lowered the weapon. Angrily, he demanded:
"What're you doing here?"
Hurriedly, Bugs explained how matters had gone bad at the Bubble Club.
That was all Pinkey needed to know.
"Jondran must have got wind of it!" he grated. "A wise guy, huh? Thinking he's safe because we haven't got the dame. We'll show him how safe he is! Come along!"
Pinkey strode to the door of Jondran's study; thrusting it open, he faced the big desk. Jondran was behind it; hearing the clatter, he raised his head.
Pinkey expected to see a terrified face. He was disappointed.
Jondran's pose of fear had been a mask. He had dropped it, after bluffing Pinkey.
HIS face stern, Jondran eyed the invaders with a sharp, defiant gaze.
Pinkey strode three paces forward, started to lift his gun.
It was a murderous gesture; but Pinkey didn't intend to rub out Jondran just yet. Maybe Jondran knew it, for he smiled.
"You're coming through with that dough, Jondran" - Pinkey's rasp meant business - "and you're coming through quick! Next time you stage a bluff, make sure you've got something to back it!"
Jondran did not budge. Nor did Pinkey's gun rise farther. The big-shot saw
the full reason for Jondran's calm. The gray-haired man was not alone. Pinkey hadn't noticed that at first; nor had his companions.
For the form near Jondran's desk was immobile: a statue that might have been carved from solid ebony. That figure was cloaked; upon its head rested a slouch hat. Against the blackish background, Jondran's protector would have passed unnoticed, except for a sound that issued from his lips.
That tone was a taunting laugh: a quiver that brought shuddering echoes from every wall; a mirth that rose amid the crackle of the flames in the fireplace. The flickery glow showed other features of that living shape in black.
Pinkey faced the burn of brilliant eyes that peered from beneath the hat brim. Below those brilliant orbs, he saw the twin muzzles of two automatics trained straight toward the doorway where he stood.