THE SHADOW UNMASKS
Maxwell Grant
CHAPTER I. CROOKS MOVE OUT
"SHARK" MEGLO was staring coldly from his apartment window. His eyes carried a glint that matched the glitter of the silver coin that Shark was impatiently tossing with his right hand.
Each click of Shark's thumb nail brought a ring from the half dollar. Spinning, the coin landed with a thwack in the waiting palm, only to be started on another twirl.
Shark's hard, long-jawed face was known to the law. So was the fellow's coin-tossing habit. For months, the police had been looking for Shark Meglo as the murderer behind the most serious wave of jewel robberies that had ever startled New York.
The coin's spin ended with a final plop. Shark's thick lips framed an ugly smile. A man had stepped in from the darkened street, to reach the lighted entry of the apartment house. Shark had recognized the fellow's face, four floors below. The arrival was "Hood" Bleeth, Shark's lieutenant.
Soon, there was a rap on the apartment door. Shark admitted Hood and pointed to a small clock that stood on a table. It showed the time as quarter of eight. Hood's puffy, pock-marked face showed apology.
"I know I'm late," admitted Hood. "Only it was no cinch getting word to all the crew. Anyway, the guys are all ready -"
"Then we're set," interrupted Shark, in a hard-snapped tone. "The chink slipped me the message when he brought the wash. The job won't be until nine o'clock."
Hood looked relieved. He settled into the best chair that the furnished apartment boasted. Shark began to spin the coin again. Hood looked anxious. He expected a further announcement. It came.
"There'll be another rub-out," grated Shark. "We can wise the crew when we get there."
Shark watched Hood coldly. He saw the lieutenant's worried air. After a few moments, Hood voiced a hoarse objection.
"It's getting me jittery, Shark," declared Hood. "We've staged three jobs already - keeping 'em three or four weeks apart. That's smart stuff; but bumping the guys ain't! Whatta you want to croak those stuffed shirts for? It don't cover us. Instead of being a bunch of jewel snatchers, we're labeled as a gang of masked killers. If it was covering us -"
Again, Shark's rasp interrupted.
"There's one guy it does cover," stated Shark. "The bird that sells the sparklers to begin with. It wouldn't be much of a racket, if the bulls knew where those rocks were coming from."
Amazement spread over Hood's puffy face. Shark was juggling the half dollar as he watched his lieutenant. The smirk that Shark displayed was one of evil relish.
"Cripes!" gulped Hood. "You told me there was a big-shot in the racket. I remember you saying we didn't have to worry about fencing the sparklers after we grabbed 'em. Only -"
"Only you never figured we cashed in before we started," inserted Shark. "The cops haven't figured it either; and that includes Joe Cardona, the wise bull that they call the ace police inspector. I've given you the straight dope, Hood. Keep it under your hat."
HOOD nodded his intention of so doing. His knowledge of the game was complete at last. Some jewel merchant of high repute was behind the whole racket. That hidden big-shot sold high priced gems to dupes; then tipped off Shark Meglo where and when to get them.
Shark grabbed the swag; it went back to the big-shot. Again the reputable jeweler, that master-crook, sold the same goods to a new victim.
Murder was necessary; if a victim survived, he might name the man who had sold him gems valued at a quarter million. Those transactions were confidential ones. Death could keep them quiet later.
"There's only one guy who could queer this racket," announced Shark. "That's The Shadow! It's on account of him that I've been dodging from one hide-out to another."
Hood's pleased leer ended. Hood never liked to hear mention of The Shadow. Shark was right, The Shadow could finish any game that left crime in its wake. Particularly, when men of high social status were concerned.
Crimeland knew The Shadow as a cloaked avenger who appeared from nowhere, to strike down murderous underworld denizens. Though The Shadow's identity was unknown, it was conceded that he was a personage of distinction, who would know people of wealth.
That was why the murders of jewel-buying millionaires had carried more than usual risk. Hood knew that it was sheer luck that had so far enabled Shark to evade The Shadow.
"Snap out of it, Hood," growled Shark. "Here, take this change the Chinaman gave me, and get me some cigarettes up at the corner store. I'll be packing while you're gone. Take a gander at the lookout in the lobby. Make sure he's on the job."
Shark gave Hood the shiny half dollar. Leaving the apartment, Hood descended by the automatic elevator. In the lobby, he nodded to a long-limbed fellow who sat in a little office. Hood knew the fellow; his name was "Pinkey" Borton, a rowdy who could put up a presentable appearance.
Whenever Shark took a new hideaway, he always posted Pinkey at lookout. Pinkey had wangled a clerk's job at this shoddy apartment house before Shark had become a tenant.
The street was deserted, and that pleased Hood. The underling stopped outside the corner drug store and cast a suspicious eye at a streamlined taxi that was stopping there. The cab looked empty, so Hood went into the drug store. The cab driver alighted and entered while Hood was buying the cigarettes.
Just as Hood stepped away, the cabby asked the druggist to change a dollar bill. The man behind the counter handed over Shark's half dollar along with some smaller change.
Returning to his cab, the driver took a sly glance at Hood, who was on his way back to the apartment house. Once behind the wheel, the cabby reached to the connecting window. Holding the change that he had received, he gave the information:
"It was Hood Bleeth!"
A whispered voice responded. A black-gloved hand came through the window and took the change.
Half a minute later, the cab rolled slowly along the narrow street that Hood had taken.
As the taxi neared a darkened street outside the apartment house, the door opened noiselessly. An unseen passenger stepped from the moving cab into the blackness of the sidewalk.
Hood had gone up in the automatic elevator. Pinkey was behind the office counter, eyeing the front door.
He let his gaze shift toward the elevator. Pinkey indulged in a wan smile; a swish, close beside him, changed his expression to alarm.
Pinkey swung face to face with a surging, black-cloaked invader who had sprung in from the entry. He saw burning eyes sheltered beneath the brim of a slouch hat. Long arms were stretching forward, driving gloved hands for the lookout's throat.
Pinkey recognized The Shadow.
WITH a snarl, the lookout tried to reach the inner end of the office, by the switchboard. He was pulling a revolver as he sprang away; Pinkey thought that he could gain a shot before The Shadow produced an automatic.
The Shadow did not need a gun.
With one long drive, the cloaked invader leaped the low counter. The Shadow's jabbing hands found their target, Pinkey's neck. The lookout flattened beneath his cloaked opponent. As Pinkey's eyes bulged upward, The Shadow's powerful fingers choked words from the lookout's lips.
"Shark Meglo!" gasped Pinkey. "He - he's up on the fourth floor - 4 B! Hood - Hood Bleeth's with him!
That's all - all I know -"
A buzz from the switchboard was interrupting Pinkey's blurts. The Shadow's fingers pressed beneath Pinkey's chin, found the spot they wanted. The lookout slumped; his eyes shut as his body became limp.
That skillful treatment settled him into temporary unconsciousness, as effectively as if he had received a knockout punch.
The buzz from the switchboard ended before The Shadow could pick up the earphones and fake Pinkey's voice.