“Detective Sergeant Markham in charge,” said Hembroke. “Socks Mallory is the man we’re looking for.”
As Hembroke paused upon the street corner, a police car sirened up to where he stood. Inspector Timothy Klein alighted. He saw the detective. Hembroke stepped forward and gave the information regarding Socks Mallory; then added that he was on his way to Weston’s, at Markham’s approval.
“Very good,” agreed Klein. “Hurry along, Hembroke.”
All along the avenue, police and detectives were coming to the search for the escaped killer. Socks Mallory’s daring deed had been quick in its execution. The response of the law had not been lacking.
Detective Hembroke smiled grimly as he boarded a cab and gave Weston’s address. Socks Mallory was underground. Every exit of the subway for blocks was covered. Whether or not the killer was captured, nothing but commendation could be made for Detective Hembroke’s promptitude.
CHAPTER IX
THE SHADOW’S CLEW
WHILE policemen and detectives were engaged in the swift and thorough search for Spider Carew’s murderer, another quest was under way — one which Spider had dreaded, and had taken drastic measures to forestall.
The Shadow, moving through the underworld, had reached the end of a trail. He was at the threshold of the secret hideout which Spider Carew had so recently abandoned.
The turn of last night’s events had forced The Shadow to abandon his original course. The Shadow had used Spider as a means of locating the spot where the minions of The Red Blot were to perpetrate their plotted crime. Then, in order to rout the marauders, he had given no further heed to Spider.
After his battle with Socks Mallory’s mobsters, The Shadow had again been forced to give up the chase. He had left that to the police; they had failed. The Red Blot’s henchmen had made another mysterious disappearance.
Two courses lay before The Shadow. One was to study the vicinity of the East Side Bank; the other was to locate Spider Carew’s hideout. The Shadow had chosen the latter. Spider Carew, spy and informant, was a connecting link with The Red Blot’s evil hand.
The Shadow, however, was confronted with a most difficult quest. He had picked up Spider’s trail outside the hideout. To discover the place itself meant a deductive process beginning with the spot where he had first seen Spider.
The Shadow knew the bad lands well. He had waited until afternoon; then, in the guise of an obscure mobsman, he had begun his survey. Gradually, he had eliminated different districts until he had centered upon several blocks. In one of these, The Shadow was sure, Spider Carew must be located.
Fate had played strange tricks that evening. Spider Carew, seeking to avoid The Shadow, had left his hideout while The Shadow, himself, was in the vicinity. By pure accident, Spider had taken a street which The Shadow had just abandoned; had made his phone call, and had doubled back to the hideout.
Leaving again, he had once more prowled a lucky course that had enabled him to escape The Shadow’s search. Less than three minutes after Spider had gone from the alley by his hideout, The Shadow, unseen in the garb of black that he had adopted after nightfall, had come to that exact locality.
Spider, to avoid The Shadow, had pleaded by telephone with Commissioner Weston. His interview granted, Spider had given little thought to Socks Mallory. He had felt sure that Socks would never know his game. But in eluding The Shadow, Spider had fallen prey to Socks Mallory’s killing hand!
THE SHADOW understood the psychology of Spider Carew’s ilk. He knew that the stoop-shouldered skulker would prefer his hideout as the best place of security. That was exactly where The Shadow would have found Spider; but for the freakish idea which had entered the little mobster’s mind — the odd thought of communicating with Commissioner Weston.
Thus, with Spider dead, with the hue and cry out for Socks Mallory, The Shadow was still on his set task. Gliding weirdly through the alleyway, this master of darkness paused when he came to the battered door which marked the entrance to Spider’s hideout.
This place impressed The Shadow because of its obscurity. Softly, the black-garbed phantom entered the doorway and flickered his tiny flashlight upon the rickety steps. There, he saw signs of use: a boarded hole in one step halfway up the flight. The Shadow ascended.
In total darkness, the invisible investigator tried the door at the top. It opened; The Shadow’s light again glittered. It fell upon the gas jet. A match flickered; the room was illuminated. The Shadow, his form grotesque and sinister in the wavering light, viewed Spider Carew’s hiding place.
A newspaper lay on the cot. A sheet of paper was resting on the chair. A black-gloved hand plucked up the second object. Keen eyes read a note which Spider Carew had scrawled. It was the little mobster’s effort to lull Socks Mallory, should the gang leader come here during the absence of Spider Carew.
The keen eyes read a warning:
Look out. The Shaddo is wise. I seen him last nite. He meens
trouble for you. I am goin to scramm so he cant find me. I dont want
him to folow me becuz if he got here he mite get on your trale. Wach
out when you go to get Tony. The Shaddo may be thare.
The Shadow studied this laborious letter. On the surface, it appeared to be a genuine bid by Spider to give Socks Mallory a helpful tip. However, The Shadow knew that it lacked sincerity. It would have deceived Socks Mallory, but not The Shadow.
Where would Spider have gone? This obscure hideout was the most logical place for him to have remained. Knowing that The Shadow had spotted him, Spider would not have made a change. He was the type to rely upon the security that he already possessed.
What was in Spider’s mind?
The last two sentences were full of meaning to The Shadow. They were unnecessary — these words that mentioned a specific event. There was but one excuse for them. Spider Carew had a reason of his own to expect trouble for Socks Mallory when the latter went to get the person called Tony. A coward, Spider was trying to square himself in advance.
A soft laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips.
Tony! There was one Tony whom Socks Mallory would like to get. Tony Loretti.
Perhaps Spider had fled to seek Loretti’s protection. Keenly, The Shadow divined that Socks had revealed to Spider that he intended to bump off the nightclub racketeer.
Again the laugh. The Shadow had rejected the theory that Spider had gone to warn Loretti. Had he chosen such a course, Spider would not have mentioned the big shot’s name. Double-crossing Socks, Spider would have wanted the gang leader to enter a trap unsuspecting.
No; there must be some other destination which Spider Carew had chosen.
The Shadow’s gaze fell upon the newspaper. It was folded; and as the gloved hands lifted it, the keen eyes saw the crumpling marks of thumb prints. Spider Carew had gripped this newspaper lightly while he had read words of importance to himself.
THE photograph of Police Commissioner Weston; the statement which the high official had made: these were the factors that had inspired Spider Carew. Again, The Shadow laughed. He had found the answer to Spider Carew’s absence.
Spider Carew had squealed to the police commissioner!
Nothing more than a pawn in the game which The Red Blot backed, Spider had realized that the law would welcome his revelations. His part as Socks Mallory’s informant — even though it had been spy work for The Red Blot — was not sufficient to put him behind prison bars. Spider Carew had decided to become a stool pigeon.
The warning note was his ruse to keep in right with Socks, should Weston ordain that Spider must return to the underworld to glean new information. By now, Spider would be telling what he knew — provided that nothing had intervened to balk his plan.