“In that event, Lamont Cranston will not appear at the Maribar Hotel tonight. If he does appear, it will be positive that you and he are not the same. There are many answers to the riddle; I prefer to learn for myself. It affords more zest, particularly when the cards are stacked entirely in my favor.” Malfort drew a watch from his pocket, studied the time, and turned to Wardlock.
“I shall reach the Maribar in thirty minutes,” he stated. “If there is any new development, call the desk and ask for me at that time. I shall remain in the lobby a short while before I go up to the penthouse.”
Turning to Spark and Ku-Nuan, Malfort added:
“Watch the prisoner, both of you. If he makes one false move, you can use him for a match of skill. I would be interested to know which weapon could deliver the swiftest death: your revolver, Spark; or your knife, Ku-Nuan.”
To The Shadow, Malfort added, “You will remain a prisoner only until my other affairs are settled. I shall deal with Rowden; with Cranston also, if he proves foolish enough to visit the penthouse. Perhaps I already hold The Shadow; possibly, I have still to find him. But you will die when I return.”
WITH this cold statement, Malfort strolled toward the door. Wardlock followed him; The Shadow heard the secretary put a question. Wardlock was asking about Rennig. Malfort thought a moment, then said:
“Come upstairs with me. I shall introduce you to Rennig as my secretary. Stay on the first floor with him. I do not want him to see either Spark or Ku-Nuan. Rennig will be good for an alibi later; he will swear that he saw Tobias Helmedge alive tonight.
“If either Spark or Ku-Nuan need to speak to you, Wardlock, they can meet you at the top of the stairs, on the ground floor. You hear that?” Malfort swung to Spark and Ku-Nuan. “Keep in contact with Wardlock, on the ground floor.”
Henchmen nodded. Wardlock added a question:
“What if I have to call you by telephone?”
“Send Rennig to the kitchen,” replied Malfort. “Then you can go to the second floor. Remember, though, the call must come exactly half an hour after I leave. I want no calls after I reach the penthouse.”
“I shall only be there a short while.” Malfort looked toward The Shadow as he spoke. “It will not take long to deal with Major Rowden; nor with this chap Cranston, if he chances to arrive.”
At the door, Malfort paused to don the wig that he had pocketed. He hunched his body, screwed his face into the contorted visage of the dead Tobias Helmedge. In the old man’s voice, he snapped the order:
“Come with me, Mr. Wardlock.”
CREAKY footsteps on the stairs marked Malfort’s departure. Wardlock’s tread was noiseless. The Shadow leaned back against the wall; the flare of the gaslight showed his face to be expressionless. Silent, he intended to continue his part of Arnaud.
Spark Ganza and Ku-Nuan glared at the poker-faced prisoner. Had they been sure their captive was The Shadow, they would have followed Malfort’s emergency instructions and dealt immediate death. But where their chief had been uncertain, they were necessarily the same.
Helpless, with cutting cords about his wrists and ankles, The Shadow seemed in absolute plight. Yet, all the while, his keen brain held a plan.
All that The Shadow needed was the right time for a daring stroke. He was allowing half an hour until the proper moment. From the moment that Malfort had so confidently discussed his plans, The Shadow had seen a future opportunity.
Malfort had chosen to play a safe game; to hold this prisoner until he was sure that he possessed The Shadow. From Malfort’s viewpoint, the game seemed sure.
The master crook had never realized that he, himself, had supplied a loophole; one that The Shadow – less helpless than he seemed – could use to good advantage. Nor had Malfort’s henchmen seen any opportunity for the prisoner.
Only The Shadow had foreseen the deeds that he himself might soon accomplish.
CHAPTER XVIII – THE SHADOW TALKS
MINUTES dragged slowly in the room where The Shadow lay prisoner. Though he gave no glances toward the men who watched him, The Shadow gradually betrayed a melancholy expression. This was accomplished quite effectively with the countenance that he wore.
As Henry Arnaud, The Shadow habitually showed a friendly personality, accompanied by an occasional smile. By curbing all joviality, he soon created the impression that he was resigned to whatever fate might come.
Both Spark and Ku-Nuan believed that their prisoner was engrossed in thought; that he was recognizing, more and more, the hopelessness of his position. They were right when they guessed that The Shadow was engaged in concentration; but they did not know the reason why.
The Shadow was mentally counting off the minutes, with an accuracy that would have surprised his captors. He needed to know when a half hour had nearly ended.
After ten minutes had passed, Spark Ganza glanced at his watch, without turning the dial toward the prisoner. With word to Ku-Nuan to keep careful guard, Spark left the prison room and went upstairs. He was gone about three minutes; during that time, he had held a chat with Wardlock.
All during Spark’s absence, Ku-Nuan had crouched beside the couch, his lips twisted as if to voice a snarl; his hand clutching the long-bladed dirk. Ku-Nuan’s beady eyes were steadily, upon The Shadow. The Mongol merely wanted an excuse to knife the prisoner.
Spark’s thoughts differed from Ku-Nuan’s. Spark looked forward to Malfort’s return. He hoped the big-shot would not order an immediate death sentence. Spark wanted a chance to put the heat on the prisoner. He wanted to hear this melancholy captive squawk for mercy.
Gun in hand, Spark slouched in a chair. Another ten minutes went by. Spark glanced toward the door; then shrugged his shoulders and decided to wait a short while longer.
That suited The Shadow. By his calculation, only twenty-three minutes had elapsed. Spark kept glancing at his watch; at the end of three more minutes, he arose and went out. The Shadow heard his footsteps on the stairs.
Immediately, The Shadow turned his eyes upon Ku-Nuan. The murderous Mongol met the gaze with a snarl. He tightened his grip upon the knife; urged the blade forward, holding its point close to The Shadow’s throat.
The Shadow spoke. His words brought a bulge of Ku-Nuan’s eyes. The Shadow’s low-toned utterance was in Chinese.
THE singsong words caught Ku-Nuan’s attention; they held him riveted. Translated, The Shadow’s speech was this:
“Ying Ko is powerful. He is greater than the master whom you serve. Ying Ko has a friend in Yat Soon. When Ying Ko strikes, many Chinese will be with him. They are prepared, tonight, to aid Ying Ko against your master.”
To Ku-Nuan, the name “Ying Ko” signified “The Shadow.” For the first time, Ku-Nuan had learned of The Shadow’s connection in Chinatown.
Promptly, Ku-Nuan understood why he had been so quickly followed by watchful Chinese. They were men who owned loyalty to Yat Soon, the most powerful person in all Chinatown.
Cunningly, The Shadow had spoken of Ying Ko as an individual other than himself. For the moment, Ku-Nuan was positive that the prisoner was The Shadow. Through the Mongol’s sneaky brain flashed the thought that here was news for Malfort. Hissing, he withdrew the dagger from The Shadow’s throat. He looked toward the door that led to the stairs.
Spark Ganza might not return for several minutes. Then it would be too late for Wardlock to telephone to Malfort at the Maribar Hotel. Ku-Nuan looked at The Shadow’s bonds; tugged the knots with long-nailed fingers. Satisfied that the prisoner could not wrench loose from those tight ropes, Ku-Nuan leered viciously. In snaky fashion, he arose and started toward the door. He was on his way to tell Spark and Wardlock what he had learned.