He studied the questioning gazes of the other two; then continued with his formulating plan.
“I got somewhere, didn’t I?” he inquired. “I got a message to The Shadow, didn’t I? He was too smart — or too dumb — I don’t know which — to wait until two thirty. He must have got into Grayson’s place ahead of Zipper Marsh. That gave him a chance to shoot his way out. But I’ll get him in a place where he can’t get out. I’ll tell you how, too!”
Gats swallowed his drink, placed the glass on the table, and walked forward to speak in an impressive tone.
“How about those two birds that work for shim?” he demanded. “How about them, eh? Vincent and Mann — a couple of dummies is the way I figure them. All right; we’ll grab them off and make them squawk. They’ll tell us who The Shadow is!”
“Perhaps,” interposed Zubian dryly. “Perhaps they will tell — if they know.”
“If they know!” snorted Gats. “I’ll make them know! I’m not called Gats for nothing. Besides that” — his face wore a malicious scowl — “I’ve got a few things I can use as well as my smoke wagons. I’ve given you the lay. Grab off Mann and Vincent. That’s the ticket.”
“It might work,” declared Carleton.
“It will work,” asserted Gats. “If those stools don’t squawk, I’ll hang onto them. Let The Shadow wonder where they are. That’ll make him hustle. When he begins to step, like he did last night, we’ve got a chance to nab him in the open. Maybe we won’t slip the next time!”
“What do you think about it?” inquired Carleton, turning to Zubian.
The international crook was thoughtful. His firm brow furrowed. At last, he voiced his opinion in a voice that carried careful decision.
“It is a good idea,” he said approvingly, “but we must hold it until later on. It would be well, first, to learn all we can about The Shadow. There are ways of doing that — ways that we have not yet tried.”
“What are they?” asked Carleton.
“I shall state them later,” said Zubian. “I must give the matter careful thought. It is for your benefit, Gats” — he spoke reassuringly as he turned to the gang leader — “because it will put you in a position to ask pointed questions if Mann and Vincent come within your power.
“The Shadow is wily. We must meet him on his own ground. Strategy and secrecy. Those are our best weapons. Suppose” — Zubian turned to Carleton — “that I meet you at your club to-morrow night. Then I shall tell you more.”
“At the Cobalt Club?” asked Carleton.
“That is the place,” said Zubian. “I shall meet you there at half past ten, to-morrow.”
FELIX ZUBIAN arose with the air of a man who had accomplished much. Gats Hackett stared sullenly. Then his expression changed. In spite of himself, Gats was impressed by Zubian’s manner. Still, he could not resist voicing an opinion.
“Find out who The Shadow is!” he sneered. “I’d like to see some one do it! Squint Freston is on the job. He hasn’t got anywhere yet. There’s no one in New York who can touch Squint—”
“I must disagree with you,” interrupted Zubian coldly. He faced Gats Hackett, and leaned heavily upon his ornamental cane. “We discussed that matter the other night, my friend. I told you then that I knew of one man who would prove superior to Squint Freston. I also informed you that the man of whom I spoke was in New York. He is the man upon whom we shall rely.”
“Better than Squint, eh?” jeered Gats. “You think this gazebo can find The Shadow and learn who he is? Why do you figure he can do it if Squint can’t?”
“Squint Freston is a gangster,” responded Zubian calmly. “The man whom I have in mind is a gentleman. Where Squint is crude, this man is subtle. That constitutes a vast difference between the two.”
“Yeah?” queried Gats. “Well, I’d like to see the guy! I’d like to know who he is! How about you” — he turned to Carleton — “you’d like to know who this smart bird is, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” admitted Carleton, “I should. When can I meet him, Zubian?”
“To-morrow night,” returned Zubian, “at the Cobalt Club.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Carleton. “He is a friend of yours?”
“The best friend that I possess.”
“His name?”
The suave crook smiled. His manner showed great wisdom. Douglas Carleton was impressed. Gats Hackett stood at silent attention.
“His name?” Zubian turned on his cane and strode toward the door, where he paused to face the questioners. “His name? I shall tell you that now. I shall name the one man who not only can find The Shadow, but who will find him. I shall name the man who will become The Shadow’s shadow!
“The Shadow’s shadow — that interest you, eh? It will interest you more, when it has become a fact instead of a prediction. Ah — I forgot. You asked the name of this remarkable man. I shall keep you in suspense no longer. The Shadow’s shadow will be Felix Zubian!”
With this pronouncement of his own name, Zubian smiled and bowed with suave serenity. He opened the door behind him and left the room, still bowing.
The door closed, while Douglas Carleton and Gats Hackett stared in open-mouthed dumfounderment.
CHAPTER X
THE SHADOW SHADOWED
SHORTLY after dusk the next evening, a new figure made its appearance opposite the old building on Twenty-third Street. Squint Freston and his watchers were on duty; yet they did not observe this stealthy person who clung close to the brick-fronted houses.
Unbeknown to the watching gangsters, a new observer had joined their forces. He was a man who sided with them; still, he did not care to let his presence be known.
Felix Zubian, the man who now styled himself The Shadow’s shadow, was making his first investigation.
As he waited, a safe distance across the street, Zubian indulged in a medley of thoughts. He realized that he had spoken boastfully last night, and that it would now be up to him to prove the claims that he had advanced; namely, his ability to succeed where others had failed.
The upshot of his deliberations had brought him back to his starting point. He was convinced that the old building across the way would be the logical place to look for The Shadow.
At the same time, Zubian was subject to an annoying uncertainty. He was positive only that The Shadow must have come to this place on at least one occasion while Squint and the others had been watching.
Was that proof that The Shadow would come here again?
No; on the contrary, it might be a very good reason why The Shadow would choose to avoid this particular spot. If the mysterious master of the night knew that peering eyes were awaiting his arrival, he might readily stay away.
So Zubian felt that he was playing a long shot. If he should see The Shadow here, well and good. If not, he would have to use other measures to trace the man he wanted.
To-night, Zubian was to meet Douglas Carleton. That young man would be impatient, expecting some results. Zubian smiled to himself. He could handle Carleton; already he had mapped out a course of conversation that would be impressive to the clubman-crook. Nevertheless, Zubian still cherished his hope that this preliminary vigil would prove a starting point.
As time drifted by, Zubian’s thoughts continued, but despite the reverie which engaged him, his keen, shrewd eyes did not relax one moment. They were watching that door across the street; watching it from an angle that was more favorable than the position which Squint Freston had chosen for his post.
Felix Zubian glanced at his watch. The luminous dial indicated nine o’clock. Zubian’s eyes returned to the door across the street. They became suddenly alert. Something had attracted their attention.