For a moment Harry had been perplexed by Rabbit’s words; he had wondered if the gang leader had been addressing any one in particular. That was before Harry had seen Harlow; now Harry figured at once that Rabbit had snarled at the physician.
Doctor Harlow had no gun. He precipitated himself upon the wounded gang leader. Rabbit’s gun jabbed into the physician’s ribs; but as the two sprawled on the floor, the gang leader seemed to lose the strength that he required.
Rabbit recoiled as Harlow dealt him a glancing blow to the jaw. Then, lying prone, he managed to turn his revolver toward his attacker, as his snarling lips fumed a repetition of the challenge.
“I’ll fix you” — Rabbit’s eyes were glaring as his finger tried to press the revolver’s trigger — “I’ll fix you—”
Harlow’s life was momentarily at stake. The physician shot a hand forward to grab Rabbit’s gun. As Harry leaped to one side to cover the prostrate gang leader, Okum uttered a nervous cry and fired his revolver.
The old secretary was in a perfect position to aim at Rabbit. His shaking hand steadied as he loosed the shot. With wild elation, the secretary repeated. Okum fired a third time; a fourth. Rabbit Gorton’s head dropped. The revolver fell from listless fingers. Doctor Harlow, rising, was shakily stepping aside. Okum had riddled Rabbit, the gang leader was dead.
“Hold steady.” The order came from Folsom Satruff, who was watching the two mobsters in the corner.
“Make sure he’s dead, Harlow. You should have taken the gun from him. Then Okum could have kept him covered.”
Then, with a gesture of his free hand, the cool millionaire beckoned to Harry Vincent.
“Take my place, Vincent,” was his order. “You stay here, Harlow— you, too, Okum. I’m going to call the police at once.”
Harry Vincent came on guard. With Rabbit Gorton’s dead form at his feet; with three moaning gangsters lying in the room; with two men at his mercy, The Shadow’s agent was alert and steady. Yet through Harry’s brain passed quick, changing thoughts, as the young man tried to place all the events that had taken place in this hectic fray.
Okum covered; then the battle; Satruff’s arrival; the challenge of the dead gang leader which had driven Harlow to a fury as the physician had appeared — these were details which Harry intended to remember.
But dominating all, was that sound of a strident, uncanny laugh, which still echoed in Harry’s brain. That laugh had marked the complete frustration of crime. Backed with the barks of The Shadow’s automatics, it had given gangsters warning that their evil could not prevail.
The Shadow had come and gone; in his wake lay five helpless mobsters with their chieftain dead!
CHAPTER XV. SATRUFF EXPLAINS
POLICE aid was quickly summoned by Folsom Satruff. When the millionaire returned to his strong-room, he announced that he had called detective headquarters. He then instructed Harry Vincent to put in two immediate calls: one to the home of Tobias McEwen, the other to the Cobalt Club, where Lamont Cranston was likely to be found.
Harry reached McEwen by telephone. Cranston, however, was not at the Cobalt Club. Harry left a message for him should he return there or call. Shortly afterward, men from headquarters put in their appearance and took charge of the prisoners.
These were but the first representatives of the law. When Riggs answered the doorbell twenty minutes later, he admitted two men, one of whom he recognized as Detective Joe Cardona. With the sleuth was a keen-faced, domineering companion whose brisk mustache gave him a military appearance.
“Where is Mr. Satruff?” questioned Cardona.
“In the strong-room,” began Riggs. The servant paused as Satruff appeared from the passage, accompanied by a headquarters man. It was the latter who recognized Cardona’s companion.
“The commissioner!” he exclaimed to Satruff, in a low, awed tone.
Satruff promptly recognized the visitor. Police Commissioner Ralph Weston was an official who believed in action. When crime struck as it had at Satruff’s — a repetition of a previous evil foray — it was sufficient to command the commissioner’s own investigation.
Cardona introduced Satruff to Weston. The commissioner went to the strong-room. He surveyed the scene where Rabbit Gorton had been slain and his mobsmen repulsed. After a brief inspection, Weston returned to the front hall.
Riggs was answering the door. Tobias McEwen had arrived. Satruff introduced Weston to the lawyer and suggested an upstairs conference. The entire group, including Harry Vincent, Doctor Harlow, and Bartlett Okum, ascended to Satruff’s living room.
Hardly had they reached a point where the commissioner was ready to begin his inquiry before Riggs arrived again to state that Mr. Cranston was here. Commissioner Weston arched his eyebrows as Satruff ordered Riggs to bring the guest upstairs.
“Lamont Cranston?” he questioned.
“Yes,” informed Joe Cardona. “Mr. Cranston was present when Pug Hoffler’s outfit made their raid here.”
THE commissioner appeared mildly surprised. As an official, Weston had peculiarities. He seldom bothered about the details of those crimes which he classed as minor ones. He had taken no real notice of the first gang attack at Satruff’s. It was the fact that crime had struck a second time that had brought Weston here.
“I sent for Mr. Cranston,” explained Folsom Satruff, in an emphatic tone, “because I am convinced that to-night’s raid has some bearing on the one that came before. With Cranston here, we have every one who was present on the previous occasion.”
“Excellent,” agreed Weston. “Excellent. If the two events are linked, we must certainly discover why.”
“To-night,” remarked, Satruff, in a definite tone, “I shall explain the link.” Tobias McEwen gave the millionaire a startled look. Folsom Satruff ignored it. Commissioner Weston stared in surprise at Satruff.
Before he could ask a question, however, Satruff moved away toward the door to welcome Lamont Cranston.
As soon as Cranston’s arrival was settled, Weston took up the hint that Satruff had given. Addressing himself to the millionaire, he put a pointed question.
“Just what did you mean?” he inquired. “You said that you could link these attacks upon the strong-room.”
“I can,” returned Satruff coolly. He looked about him as he spoke. “I am ready to tell something which I did not reveal before. It is known to all who were present at either raid, except Vincent and Riggs. I can see no reason why Vincent should not know the truth, as he is a competent man in my employ. Riggs is downstairs; he is merely a minor servant and does not need to know.”
“What I am going to tell you” — Satruff’s voice was dramatic as the millionaire faced Weston — “is the truth about myself. I am going to tell you why my vault should be an attractive object for hordes from the underworld.
“I am going to tell you a fact which I had hoped was a secret, but which I now know is understood by certain criminals. Commissioner, I am Dorand, the philanthropist.”
The name Dorand brought a look of amazement to Weston’s face. Cardona shared the commissioner’s surprise. The detective was the first to recover. He laughed gruffly and turned to the commissioner.
“That explains it,” asserted Cardona. “If Mr. Satruff had told me that at the beginning, it would have been better, commissioner.”
“Why didn’t you?” Weston asked Satruff.
“I thought of it,” explained the millionaire. “I discussed the subject with both Cranston and McEwen.
They can corroborate what I have said. I simply wanted to keep the name of Dorand as an incognito for my philanthropies. I took the previous gang raid to be a mere blind attempt. I did not believe that my secret identity had been discovered.