“It was worth that in real cash.”
“Well, this fake mazuma is just as good. They’ll take it quick enough, where I’m going. I hadn’t any right to be back in New York, anyway, but I couldn’t stay away.”
“How did you guess” — Spotter looked around him apprehensively — “that it was The Shadow?”
“How? When you told me this afternoon that you’d make it worth my while to help out Maloney’s gang, I knew it wasn’t Reds Mackin you were after. He could have been put out easy. But I know something about The Shadow.
“He was on my trail, once, Spotter. You wanted a man up there, in that room, for emergency. Who was this fellow that was going to slide through the machine-gun fire, and three men waiting inside?”
“The Shadow,” admitted Spotter.
“You’re right. I told you I knew who you were after, didn’t I? Told you when you put the proposition up to me, this afternoon.
“Lucky I came along, wasn’t it? Well, I’m satisfied. The Shadow was going to get Steve Cronin, once. Instead, Steve Cronin got The Shadow!”
The stocky man finished his drink. He snapped his fingers, in farewell, as he walked out of the Black Ship, pausing at the door to light a cigarette.
“Steve Cronin was the right guy,” murmured Spotter, approvingly. “Wait till I tell Bronson. I’ll get five hundred of real cash for the phony bills I paid out.
“Lucky that Steve came to town. He was the ace in the hole. I figured that if The Shadow got as far as him, he’d do the trick.”
He paused a moment.
“I spotted him,” he whispered, in the emptiness of the room. “I know it was him. Reds Mackin ain’t in town. Only The Shadow could have gone through that mill.
“Whew! What if Steve hadn’t been there! Gee! I couldn’t believe they had him, until Steve clinched it by tellin’ me just now.”
A satisfied grin spread over Spotter’s shrewd features. Death to The Shadow! That had been his wish.
Now The Shadow was dead!
CHAPTER XIII
A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
Harry Vincent was worried. It was now the third evening that he had been in Blair Windsor’s home. The first night had been marked by the message which had come over the radio. He had expected a similar message the second night, but it had not come.
He had been expectant to-night; he had tuned in on WGG at three o’clock, and WNX at six o’clock, but to no avail.
What had happened to The Shadow? In all his experiences with that mysterious person, Harry Vincent had found that a trail once opened was followed. Yet now, after his first instructions to watch for a certain type of man Harry had received no further word.
During the day, Harry had contrived to keep a watchful eye on both Perry Quinn and Bert Crull. One of these, he felt sure, was his man — Quinn because he had acted suspiciously; Crull because he looked like the man whom Harry had seen in the farmhouse.
Yet with two days of observation to his credit, Harry had discovered nothing. Now it was nearly nine o’clock. Perhaps some word would arrive, subtly hidden in the broadcast from station WNX.
Harry Vincent entered the large living room. All the men were there. Buckman and Blair Windsor were engaged in a game of chess; Harper was looking on. Crull was reading the evening paper. But Quinn seemed restless; he was walking up and down the room.
Harry tuned in on station WNX. When he looked around, Quinn had gone.
“Where’s Perry?” questioned Harry. “Thought I saw him here a minute ago.”
Harper looked up and shrugged his shoulders.
“He went out on the porch,” said Crull. “Guess he wanted some fresh air.”
The men all appeared quite indifferent to Quinn’s action. Harry was tempted to join Quinn on the porch; but he was anxious to hear the expected radio message. So he waited; but the result was disappointing. The program that came over the air carried no key words.
Harry went out on the porch. He found Quinn there, and talked with him for a while. The man seemed rather morose and indifferent. He acted as though something was troubling him.
Harry sought, by artful questioning, to lead the conversation to the source of his annoyance; but this was without success.
Returning to the living room, Harry found the men still occupied as before. He picked up a book and began to read. But his mind was not upon the printed pages. Instead, he was seeking some solution to the riddle that he believed existed here.
He knew that his own position was none too well established. He was a guest through the request of Garret Buckman.
He must, therefore, act in a way that would not excite the suspicion of the normal members of the group — Windsor, Buckman, and Harper.
Yet he must centralize on Quinn and Crull. There were also servants in the house — three of them — all men.
Louie was the cook; he was a jolly fellow, who seldom left his kitchen. Parker was the handy man. He attended to everything about the place.
Vernon, the old butler, was virtually on the retired list. He was a dignified, gray-haired man. He was active, yet he turned most of his duties over to Parker, who was always busy.
Vernon came in the room while Vincent was thinking of him. He arranged some of the furniture in the room; then went upstairs. Harry began to ponder over Blair Windsor’s situation.
Here was Windsor, a most likable chap, with three servants — two dull fellows, and one old man. His guests were business men who had come for a few restful weeks of vacation. Unsuspecting, they harbored a dangerous person who must have some scheme under way.
It was Harry’s duty to watch the enemy; yet he must do it artfully, or he would appear to be behaving strangely for a guest.
Philip Harper decided to turn in. It was now ten o’clock. They had all played cards late on the previous night. Every one seemed tired.
Windsor and Buckman finished their game of chess. They decided to spend a few minutes on the large veranda. Harry went with them. Crull remained in the living room, still reading the paper. He said that he would probably be upstairs when they returned.
They saw no sign of Perry Quinn when they reached the porch. Blair Windsor remarked on the fact. Garret Buckman presumed that Quinn had gone for a short walk.
The thought troubled Harry Vincent. He found an excuse for returning to the living room, and left the others.
He entered the house through a side door that was seldom used. He stepped into a darkened hall, and closed the door behind him. Then he stopped short.
Some one was crossing the hall ahead of him — some one who was moving stealthily.
A door opened, and the man went out of sight. Harry followed. The door led to the cellar stairs. Harry could hear the man’s footsteps, although they were very light.
Evidently the person who was moving into the darkness below felt sure that he was not being followed, yet he was going cautiously.
Harry proceeded with absolute stealth. He reached the stone-floored cellar, and followed noiselessly, trailing the man by the slight sounds that came from ahead.
Who was it?
Harry could not tell. The only persons whom he could positively eliminate were Blair Windsor and Garret Buckman, who were on the veranda.
It might be Perry Quinn, come in from outside when he saw the others go to the porch. It might be Bert Crull, who had been in the living room.
Harry Vincent was determined to learn the identity of this individual.
They were across the cellar now. Harry had never been in the place before. He was in constant danger of running into a post, or of stumbling over something which might betray his presence. Yet the man ahead seemed to know the path perfectly.