Peering from darkness, The Shadow surveyed a man who had alighted from a taxicab. This individual was a hard-faced fellow of medium height, who wore a heavy overcoat and leather gloves. He was looking for someone coming from the gate.
The Shadow’s piercing gaze, turned toward Mullrick and Pascual, found the same objective which the waiting man had chosen. As Mullrick advanced, the man from the taxi grinned and peeled off his right glove. He sprang forward to shake hands with the passenger from Mexico.
“Hello, Jerry,” was Mullrick’s greeting. “Thought you’d be here. I see you have a cab.”
“Sure thing,” returned Jerry. “I didn’t want to chance you missing me by calling my hotel.”
MULLRICK turned to Pascual. He spoke to the servant in a mixture of Spanish and English, finishing his remarks by indicating the man who had come to meet them.
“Senor Herston,” explained Mullrick. “They say ‘Mr. Herston’ here in New York. Savvy, Pascual?”
“Si, senor,” responded the impassive servant. “Senor Herston. He ees Meestaire Herston. He ees the man you have call Jerry.”
“Right,” commended Mullrick. “What about the luggage, Jerry?”
“I’ll give them the address,” responded Herston. He walked to the dock man who stood beside the truck, and wrote an address on a large sheet of paper. “You can arrange for the delivery?” he questioned.
The attendant nodded. Herston handed him a tip.
The man laid the sheet of paper on a trunk and fumbled in his pocket for tags to attach to the various pieces of baggage. Mullrick and Pascual were on their way to the cab. Herston turned to follow them.
A gloved hand came from darkness. Creeping forward, it plucked the sheet of paper from atop the trunk. The eyes of The Shadow read the address which Jerry Herston had written. “Apartment 4H, Belisarius Arms,” a street address in the Nineties; this was the information which The Shadow gained.
The shipping man had found his tags. He looked for the sheet of paper. Not seeing it on the trunk, he looked toward the flooring. As his glance went downward, the sheet of paper suddenly crept upward, projected by an invisible hand. It again lay upon the trunk. Standing up, the dock man noticed it. He scratched his head as he laid the tags beside it.
How that paper had gone and returned was a mystery to him. He wondered if his eyes had deceived him. His eyes, again, were missing something. They did not see the obscure form that dwindled off toward the street beyond the pier. The Shadow was making his departure.
The taxicab had gone. The Shadow had seen it turn up the broad avenue which follows the North River. Again, The Shadow’s form was momentarily in view as it passed beneath a light, then it faded.
A MINUTE afterward, a trim coupe pulled away from a parking space, and took the direction in which the cab had gone.
Guided by a driver whose form was lost in its interior, the coupe whirled northward, picking spots through the occasional traffic, gaining swift headway as it neared the incline leading to the elevated express highway along the river front.
Its motor humming, the coupe shot by a taxi that was on the upper highway. The Shadow’s sparkling eyes glimpsed the occupants of the cab. Harland Mullrick, Jerry Herston, Pascual — the trio formed a silent group. The Shadow’s laugh came softly as his coupe sped ahead.
A meeting at the dock; three men riding to an apartment; The Shadow already cognizant of their destination. There could be but one answer to the situation. The Shadow had an interest in the affairs of these three.
When The Shadow sought the answer to a problem, it was because he scented impending crime. Stealthy and invisible, he had a way of discovering secrets which would enable him to work in the cause of justice. A lone wolf who battled crime, inspired by reasons of his own, The Shadow used methods that baffled all who encountered him.
There was a reason for the meeting between Harland Mullrick and Jerry Herston. When they reached their destination, these two men would discuss affairs. That conference would be illuminating. Therein lay the cause for The Shadow’s speed.
When Harland Mullrick and Jerry Herston talked together, they would be in the presence of an unseen listener. Whatever passed between the two would be known to The Shadow!
CHAPTER II
THE MINES OF DURANGO
THE Belisarius Arms was an old, but well-kept, apartment house that represented a former era in Manhattan building construction. Access to the upper stories was gained by means of an automatic elevator, which opened in the center of a corridor on every floor.
Apartment 4H was at one end of the dimly lighted fourth-floor corridor. Its identifying figure and letter gleamed from a dark panel in shining brass that was visible from twenty feet away. This door, the entrance to 4H, awaited the arrival of Harland Mullrick and Jerry Herston.
A slight swish sounded in the corridor, yet no figure was visible along the dark walls. The first manifestation of a living form was when the mark 4H on the door was suddenly blotted from view.
Only at close range could anyone have distinguished the outline at the door. The Shadow had reached his destination in advance of those who were coming by cab.
Something clicked in the lock. Its sound was muffled. Under the probing of a steel pick, the lock turned. The door opened. The Shadow entered the apartment.
A tiny flashlight began its inspection. A ray that sometimes dwindled to the size of a gold piece, then widened to a moonlike circle, guided The Shadow in his search of the premises.
Nothing escaped The Shadow’s keen eye. The furnished living room, the bedrooms adjoining, the kitchenette and its compact closet: all these came under observation. The arrangement of the doors and windows was something which The Shadow studied. Every means of outlet from the apartment was discovered by the investigator, every passage from one room to another was studied by hidden eyes.
The Shadow’s light fell upon a telephone table in the corner of the living room. An instant later, the ray disappeared. The Shadow’s keen ear had detected the arrival of the man from the taxicab.
With a soft swish denoting his quick turn in darkness, The Shadow headed directly toward the door of the apartment, into a little entry that connected the door with the living room.
Seemingly, The Shadow had gone to the one spot where discovery would be certain when the others entered. Such, however, was not the case. As the door of the apartment opened inward, The Shadow’s tall form slipped behind the moving barrier.
JERRY HERSTON entered. He turned on a light in the entry. A single ceiling lamp showed the faces of Herston and his companions. Harland Mullrick and Pascual joined the man who had entered.
“Shut the door, Pascual,” ordered Mullrick, speaking in Spanish to his servant.
As the menial reached forward to obey, Jerry Herston opened a door at the side of the entry. The edge of this barrier overlapped the large door which gave entrance to the apartment. Hence when Pascual closed the door through which the arrivals had come, the figure of The Shadow still remained unseen. The silent investigator was behind the door which Herston had opened.
“Here’s the clothes closet,” remarked Herston. “We can hang our hats and coats in here. Get the things out of the way.”
The Shadow had anticipated this action. Boldly, he had chosen the entry as his hiding place. As Mullrick and Pascual hung up their hats and coats, Herston waited. He heard Mullrick speak to the Mexican. Pascual responded and entered the living room. He found the light and switched on the illumination.