“So far, results have been disastrous to the invaders. It may be that none will dare a new attempt. We must beware of a more subtle possibility — some one from the inside working out, instead of some one from the outside working in.
“We know that the focal point is Folsom Satruff’s strong-room, so long as he keeps his money there and intends to continue his Dorand philanthropies. Therefore, the spot to watch is Satruff’s.”
“You have men out there now,” observed Cardona.
“Yes,” said Weston, “and so long as they are there the villains will not show their hands. We have no shred of evidence that can absolutely take in those who are behind the game or prove that Harlow is the traitor that we want.
“To-morrow, Satruff’s will be unguarded. The place will be open for the new scheme to be tried. But from to-morrow on, there will be absolute protection so far as we are concerned. One capable man, properly stationed, will be all that we require.
“You will go to Satruff’s, Cardona. Stay there, unknown to any, save Satruff and Vincent, whom we know that we can trust. Keep behind the scenes. Explain yourself to Satruff. When crime comes again, should it come, it will be your part to handle it.”
The commissioner arose and clapped Cardona on the shoulder. The commendation brought elation to the detective. He arose to leave the office. He shook hands with Weston before departing.
During that brief interval, the door of Weston’s office closed completely. A stealthy, elongated figure crossed the floor of Weston’s living room. It passed through the outer door and moved rapidly to the stairway that led below.
A soft laugh came from the lips of Lamont Cranston. It was the laugh of The Shadow. The master sleuth had listened to theories and had heard plans. Locked in his thoughts were facts that the speakers had not considered.
Where Commissioner Ralph Weston and Detective Joe Cardona resorted to speculative plans, The Shadow had formed his own campaign, based upon the hidden knowledge that he had gained!
CHAPTER XVII. TEX GIVES ORDERS
TWO nights after Commissioner Weston and Detective Cardona had held their consultation, Tex Lowner again appeared under the lights of Park Avenue. The gang leader swaggered as he approached the entry that led to Doctor Harlow’s office.
No one was watching the place to-night. Cardona’s blind trail to the Club Madrid had evidently satisfied the police that Tex was not engaged in present crime. The gang leader’s lips formed a confident smile as Tex stepped into Harlow’s waiting room.
The physician put in a prompt appearance. He appeared ill at ease as he invited Tex into his office. As on the former occasion, Harlow locked the door to the waiting room and also made sure that the way to the laboratory was tightly closed.
Meanwhile the bright lights of Park Avenue formed curious splotches on the sidewalk, where their spheres of illumination crossed. There were shadowy spots, if one had cared to notice them; and one of these blobs of blackness was in motion. It showed no sign of its owner until Harlow’s entry was suddenly darkened by a shape which pressed against it.
The Shadow, sinister visitant of the night, had trailed Tex Lowner here. He was entering to listen in on the conversation between the gang leader and the physician. Swiftly, The Shadow moved along the hall in spectral fashion. His blackened instrument clicked the laboratory lock. The Shadow entered that room.
With silent, yet swift precaution, The Shadow repeated his maneuver with the door between the laboratory and the office. The trifling crack that formed, as The Shadow eased the portal, could not have excited the suspicion of either Tex Lowner or Wesley Harlow.
The two were beginning their conversation when The Shadow heard them. Tex was speaking and his tone was not a friendly one. Harlow, as The Shadow viewed his profile, seemed quite a bit disturbed.
“TRIED some foolish stuff, eh?” Tex questioned. “Flopped again. I suppose you figure that’s a good enough excuse for not showing up with the hundred grand.”
“Listen, Lowner,” pleaded Harlow. “You know I would not have tried a method like that. The fact that the second raid occurred should prove to you that I had nothing to do with the first.”
“Quit the stalling,” leered Tex in contemptuous fashion. “It don’t matter to me even if you did team up with Rabbit Gorton. I hated that guy and I’m glad he got the works. What I want to know is — where’s my hundred grand?”
“I couldn’t get it,” pleaded. Harlow. “I told you I’d handle it in my own way. I tried to — but I couldn’t get started when I talked with Satruff. I started out, hoping that you would understand the situation when I explained it to you. Then the raid started.”
“Mighty funny,” scoffed Tex, “the way those birds crash in just as soon as you go out. Gives you a chance to do the hero stuff, eh? A chance to take a shot at one of your pals when he flops on the job.”
“I tell you, Lowner, I didn’t—”
“Forget it. That’s not why I came here — to hear your alibis. I want the dough. Savvy? One hundred grand — and you’re going to grab it. To-night— before midnight!
“This is your last chance, Harlow. Forget the flops. If you fliv this time, I’ll spring the works. Lefty Yates is where I can get him. He’ll go to the bulls — and when they question him, it will be just too bad for you.”
“I’ll go out to Satruff’s,” returned Harlow angrily. “I’ll get the money. I’m sure I can work it if I get half a chance.”
“You’ll make the chance, or else—”
“I know. You’ve threatened me before, Lowner.”
“Listen.” The gang leader’s tone was serious. “I’m leaving this to you, Harlow, and I’ll make good my threat if you miss out. Just the same, I want the dough more than I do your scalp. So I’m going to be there to-night. In person.
“I’m wise to one thing. This dick, Cardona, is hanging around Satruff’s. Besides that, Vincent is there, and he made plenty of trouble for Rabbit, so I hear.
“So I’m not making any blind raid like Pug and Rabbit did. I’m going to be off a way — down toward the Sound, where they won’t be looking for me. I’m coming in after trouble starts — not before, if I can help it.”
“There won’t be any trouble,” protested Harlow.
“I’m talking about what may happen before twelve to-night,” resumed Tex. “That’s going to be the dead line. You’d better do your work before it. When you get the dough, you may have to do a slide out. I’ll be outside of the strong-room door. Instead of me coming in, you’ll be coming out. I’ll have the mob to help you on a get-away.”
“You’ve got the wrong idea, Lowner,” asserted the physician. “I can work this quietly — no talk — no fight — no trouble — if I get the opportunity I need. These raids haven’t helped me — they’ve hindered me.”
“Midnight,” declared Tex, gruffly ignoring Harlow’s protest, “is the dead line. Get the dough before then, or I’m not promising what’s going to happen.”
DOCTOR HARLOW stared steadily at the domineering gang leader. The physician’s lips twisted. A cunning glow appeared in his eyes. Tex noted the expression and his hand slid toward his hip pocket.
“Figuring on trying to bump me, maybe?” quizzed the gang leader harshly. “Like you did with Pug and tried to do with Rabbit? Not much” — Tex’s laugh was a raucous one — “not much! You’re dealing with a tough hombre, Harlow. I’m not a squealer. I’m a guy that lifts the lid.”
“I shot Pug,” started Harlow slowly, “because he was threatening Folsom Satruff. I didn’t try to kill Rabbit. I attempted to disarm him. I’m not a murderer, Lowner, much though I might desire to be.”