Acquainted with The Shadow’s prowess, The Python must surely have guessed of that escape from beneath the East River. Contrarily, The Python had probably not heard of the episode aboard the Colonia, for those on the tug had been out of touch with their evil chief — too much so to have bothered with details of a chance supercargo whom they had pitched overboard.
As Carl Ramorez, The Python had called the Legrand Hotel. Answered by Louis Revoort, he had made a cunning guess; he had decided that it would be easier for The Shadow to be there as Revoort than for Revoort to be at the Legrand in person.
Thus did The Shadow reason; and the correctness of his deductions proved the direness of his present situation. For his one slight advantage — his recognition of The Python — was counterbalanced by circumstance. The Python, in turn, had guessed that his visitor was The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVI
SMOOTH STRATEGY
ONCE as Cranston; now as Revoort. For the second time, The Shadow faced The Python. His adversary, too, had assumed a double guise. No longer a stooped, bewigged old man, The Python had taken on the identity of Carl Ramorez. But though the parts they played were different, in each instance, circumstances stood the same. The Shadow was in The Python’s power.
Grueling had been The Shadow’s adventures since he had last seen The Python. He had been consigned to one of the master villain’s merciless Coils; he had escaped that band only to encounter another crew, equally as vicious. Finally free, The Shadow had fared forth on a new mission, only to find himself once more beneath the domination of the most formidable foe who had ever opposed him.
Struggles for self-preservation. Such had been The Shadow’s conflicts with The Python. Again, the odds were turned against The Shadow. His role of Louis Revoort was known by that foe who had assumed the mask of Carl Ramorez.
Still holding the smooth purring tone of Ramorez, The Python was talking of the reclaimed treasure. He was pouring forth deep thanks to his friend Louis Revoort, commending him for his efforts, for the hardships that he had undergone to aid a poor refugee. With such words did The Python camouflage the gloating which he felt. He was hiding a double victory: a chance to gain a vast fortune; and an opportunity to finally destroy The Shadow.
Nervously, The Shadow lighted a cigarette. His action was still a simulation of Revoort’s usual manner. At heart, The Shadow felt no fear. The helplessness of his position was actually inspiring him to swift deduction. As he listened to The Python’s pretended gratitude — Ramorez to Revoort — The Shadow was visualizing his enemy’s own schemes.
Since The Python had guessed that The Shadow would come here as Revoort, why had The Python not taken even more precaution? In a sense, this trap could be made a double one. Though covered by hidden gunners, The Shadow, by superspeed, could manage to whip out an automatic and drill The Python before the marksmen fired.
Surely The Python knew of The Shadow’s speed with guns; moreover, The Python had seen proof of The Shadow’s disdain for death. With escape blocked, The Shadow could seek solace in double doom, eliminating The Python with himself. The Python certainly must have taken that possibility under consideration.
One answer flashed through The Shadow’s brain. The Python, with the egotism of all supercrooks, had prided himself on greater keenness than The Shadow. Though he had guessed that Louis Revoort might prove to be The Shadow, The Python had been confident that The Shadow would not see through the guise of Carl Ramorez.
The supercrook thought that his own game was a complete deception. He did not know that The Shadow had recognized him as The Python. Such was The Shadow’s realization; and with it, he gained his plan of strategy. The Shadow must continue to act the role of Louis Revoort; and with it, accept The Python as his friend, Carl Ramorez.
“I have given you thanks,” purred on The Python, “knowing that you, my friend, must have brought my lost wealth safely ashore. Tell me, Revoort: did you have trouble when that terrible fire burst loose aboard the steamship?”
“I did,” replied The Shadow, in Revoort’s tone. “Trouble then and before. Ramorez, crooks were after your fortune. They were on my trail even before I boarded the Tropical.”
“Yet you outmanaged them?”
“YES.” The Shadow laid the cigarette aside. He knew that The Python must have heard from the Colonia, enough to have learned that the stolen coffer held no swag. “You see, I brought your treasure in its original chest. But before I went aboard the Tropical, I transferred it to an ordinary trunk.”
“Which you kept in your own stateroom?”
“No. That would have been unwise. I hired another cabin under the name of J.F. Jenks. I placed the trunk in that room. The coffer went in the purser’s strong box.”
“Did your enemies start the fire?”
“I believe so. The purser, I hear, died before the blaze began. A lifeboat left the liner, manned by supposed deserters. I believe that they may have taken the coffer. I do not know; because I did not inquire.”
“Why not?”
“Because my life was in danger. I was attacked and almost thrown overboard.” Speaking casually, The Shadow knew that The Python could not have learned of Revoort’s trip ashore on the life buoy. Those who had attacked Revoort were dead.
“Yet you were rescued,” purred The Python, in the tone of Ramorez. “Come, my friend, tell me who gave you aid.”
“Two men,” stated The Shadow. “One was named Vincent; but he did not tell me the name of his companion. Both were passengers; some unknown friend had delegated them to protect me. They kept me hidden in their cabin. They brought my trunk ashore.”
“But how did you—”
“How did I come ashore?” The Shadow smiled in Revoort’s fashion. “In a larger trunk, which had previously held the luggage of my rescuers. They saw to it that both trunks were carefully handled.”
“And they brought you and the treasure to the Legrand Hotel?”
“No. I came there alone. Vincent and his friend are holding the treasure.”
A feigned look of alarm appeared upon The Python’s darkly disguised visage. The Shadow raised one hand.
“Do not worry,” he assured. “I am confident of the loyalty shown by those two men. I told Vincent to call me at the Legrand Hotel. He is to deliver the trunk there when we are ready.”
“To deliver it to you, Revoort?”
“Or to you, Ramorez.”
“You told him of me?”
“Certainly.”
The Python considered. The Shadow watched him quietly; then spoke a suggestion. His tone was troubled.
“It might be wise for me to remain here,” he said. “I do not like to be seen about New York, for I am listed as missing from the Tropical. If you go alone, you will have no difficulty.”
“Would it be possible?” queried The Python, smoothly, “to have the trunk delivered here?”
“Very difficult,” returned The Shadow. “Vincent may already have it close to the Legrand Hotel. We arranged absolutely for it to be brought to my own room there. Possibly he has already telephoned and is puzzled because I am not back. Suppose I call the Legrand Hotel from here?”
THE SHADOW’S tone was still deceiving. To The Python, it meant that he still thought he was talking to Carl Ramorez. It was clever strategy by The Shadow, this present simulation of Louis Revoort. It threw the burden of a false move on The Python, who was anxious to preserve the deception that he thought existed.