“You got this fellow that we put in back. I promised to get rid of him for you. Well, I caught The Shadow. I’m leaving him to you. It’s up to you to finish him. That makes it a bargain. Will you do it?”
“Sure,” declared Spotter, bringing his face into the light. “What did you do with him?”
“Knocked him cold,” was the sneering answer. “He may be dead for all I know. Strapped him with his own belt, and mine, too - it’s a trick I can do quick. Gagged him with his own handkerchief. There he is, waiting for you, done up like a suitcase, right where I nabbed him. Take a peek at him, all of you. Tell me what he looks like. He’s right there beside the steps; right where he popped out and tried to jump on me!”
Jake had run to the steps and found the human form.
“Here he is,” he called. “Bring the light, Tony!”
Tony hurried with the lantern. Jake was holding the prisoner’s body; the light shone down upon the muffled face. Spotter was leaning forward with eager eyes. This man who knew so many faces was anxious to recognize the one that he had never seen. Ezekiel Bingham peered from behind the others.
“Pull off the handkerchief,” they heard English Johnny call from the car. “See what he looks like!”
Spotter’s hand jerked the gag down to the neck of the huddled form. There was silence for an instant, then the lantern swayed in Tony’s hand. None of the four men could speak.
The first cry came from Spotter.
“It’s English Johnny!”
The realization of what had happened burst upon them. But as they stood stunned by their unbelievable discovery, the car at the end of the walk shot suddenly forward, whirled off along the makeshift road toward the lane that led to safety.
The truth had dawned upon Ezekiel Bingham and his crew of gangsters as they grouped about the limp bulk of their comrade, English Johnny.
The Shadow must have overpowered English Johnny before the big man had been able to enter the building. It was The Shadow, disguised as English Johnny, who had talked with them, and to whom they had given the box of gems. It was The Shadow who had agreed to murder the man they had captured at the window!
And it was The Shadow now who was driving away in English Johnny’s car; The Shadow who had deceived them; despoiled them; and who was mocking them.
For from the swiftly moving sedan came a peal of taunting laughter; a long, loud laugh that echoed through the night and died away among the trees.
CHAPTER XXXV
AT HEADQUARTERS
“SATURDAY night,” said Inspector John Malone. “The end of another week.”
He emphasized each word as he spoke, sitting at the table, his eyes staring vacantly at the wall before him.
“And it’s the last week, Malone.”
The voice was that of Joe Cardona, the detective.
“Are you trying to make it harder for me, Joe?” asked the man at the table reprovingly.
“Certainly not, inspector. I’m with you to the last minute. But that last minute is midnight. You know that.”
“You’re right, Joe. I’m through, all right. One hour more and it’s demotion - maybe worse.”
Cardona moved slightly from his position near the window.
“It’s all in the game,” he remarked. “All in the game, Malone; but it’s tough, just the same. I feel like I was responsible for it, too.”
“Don’t say that, Joe.”
“I can’t help it. This Laidlow case has been your finish. If we could have found anything at all, it might have worked out. But not a clew - not the trace of a clew.”
“You were up against it, Joe. You couldn’t help it. But it is tough to lose out this way.”
“Well, there wasn’t anything in that Chinese idea. You have my report. I went through the chink district and did it right. But I couldn’t find a thing.”
“Maybe the crook still has the jewels, Joe.”
“Not a chance, Malone. No crook will hold onto them this long. Especially a small-fry burglar like the fellow we think cracked the safe. It isn’t the murderer I’ve been after lately; it’s the gems. If we could bring in those sparklers, we’d have something. You would be the big noise on the force, inspector.”
“Why talk of that, Joe? Only an hour more and I’m through.”
“Why don’t you go home, old man? This is no place for you tonight.”
“The boys know I’m through, Joe. I want them to know that I’m standing by to the finish.”
The detective shrugged his shoulders.
“If there was only some way, Joe,” pleaded the man at the table. “Just some way to start something - I won’t get the news until Monday, you know; but I go off duty tonight, and it’s my last chance.”
The detective began to pace up and down the floor.
“You know, Malone,” he said suddenly, “I believe you were right about some big mind being behind this. That’s just why we’re up against it. If there is a big mind in back of it, Diamond Bert Farwell was just a beginner compared to this fellow. We can’t get anything from either end. No clew from the murder; no trace of the stuff.”
Malone eyed the detective thoughtfully.
“I figured that right from the start, Joe,” he said. “There’s more than one hand in this, but the stolen goods will reach the hand that’s behind it. Do you know what I think? I believe the fellow is so clever that even if we found the gems on him, we wouldn’t be able to convict him.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’d have to prove how he got them. Like as not he’s put himself in a position of an honest man. We could arrest him, all right; but he’d have some alibi - some way out of it.”
“Probably. But why worry? It won’t be your job to get him, Malone. I hate to talk this way. You’re the best inspector we’ve ever had.”
“Well, Joe, I’m here for the last night, anyway. It isn’t the job that matters, though. Every one knows I’m here. The boys know I’m no quitter. But the hard part is that I’ve failed. I hope you never go through it, Joe.”
The detective slapped his hand against his superior’s shoulder.
“I’m sticking here, too,” he said. “It may not mean much, because you’re going to lose out and I’m not. But I’ll be here to say good night when you leave at midnight.”
Malone glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past eleven. The phone bell rang. He lifted the receiver listlessly.
“What’s that?… I can’t understand you… Yes. This is Inspector Malone… You’re in a hurry? Calling from out on Long Island, eh?”
He passed the telephone to the detective.
“Hello,” growled Cardona. “What?”
His eyes glistened with interest. Sharp, quick words came from his lips. He glanced sideways at Malone. The inspector was resting his elbow on the table, his cheek upon his hand.
The detective was talking excitedly.
“Go on… Yes… Yes… I got you… Better tell me who you are… No? Well, I’ll take a chance on it, anyway.”
He slammed down the receiver and dived for his coat.
“What’s up, Joe?” asked Malone in sudden interest.
“I can’t wait to tell you,” shouted Cardona, shaking his fists in wild excitement. “Can’t waste time, Malone. It’s a tip-off - a tip-off on the Laidlow jewels. It may have been a crank - maybe it wasn’t. I’ve got the men downstairs. We’ve just got time. A long way to go and a short time before midnight.”
He dashed from the room.
Inspector Malone slumped back in the chair. After all, why should he worry? He had been disappointed before on this case. Now, at the eleventh hour, there had been a tip-off - and it would mean nothing.
The Laidlow jewels! Perhaps Joe Cardona would find them some day, but Inspector Malone did not expect to be around when he did.