“You may be smooth with some guys,” jeered Tex, “but not with me, Harlow. Remember that. I’ve pulled some big jobs, and I got after them right. Pug Hoffler was just a two-bit gorilla. Rabbit Gorton was a geek who’d chase for cover every time he thought any one was after him.
“I’m warning you, Harlow, in case you’ve got any funny business up your sleeve. Those other birds may have thought they had something on you. I’ve got something. Got it, understand?”
“All right, Lowner,” said Harlow wearily. “There’s no use harping on it. You’re giving me credit for being one of your own kind. I’ve told you that I have nothing in common with such ruffians as Pug and Rabbit. They were scum— and you’re pretty close to their class.”
Tex tightened his fingers about the butt of his revolver. Harlow noticed the action and shrugged his shoulders.
“A few minutes ago,” he remarked, “you were suggesting that I might be considering violence. You acted as though you expected me to draw a gun and shoot you down. Now you are trying those tactics yourself. Go ahead.”
“Not a chance,” snarled Tex. “You’re worth a hundred thousand berries alive — and not a nickel dead. You’re going to get that dough — to-night.”
“I’m going to get it,” repeated Harlow firmly.
“Before midnight,” prompted Tex.
“Before midnight,” repeated the physician.
Tex dropped his hand from his gun. With a snarling laugh, he turned and opened the door to the waiting room. He paused long enough to stare harshly at Harlow. Then, with a contemptuous snort, he closed the door and departed.
DOCTOR HARLOW sat down after the gang leader had departed. His sallow features twitched. He rubbed his chin methodically. Then, in brusque fashion, he picked up the desk telephone and put in a call for Garport.
The Shadow was listening intently. The door had opened a trifle farther, now that Harlow was alone. A long, spectral shape of blackness stretched across the floor. Behind it was looming darkness broken only by a pair of glowing eyes.
“Hello…” Harlow was speaking. “That you, Vincent?… Yes, Doctor Harlow speaking… Yes, I should like to talk with Mr. Satruff.”
A pause, then Harlow’s voice resumed after some one else had come on the wire.
“Hello, Satruff?… Yes, this is Harlow… I am coming out to see you to-night… Good. I thought you would remember that we had a tentative appointment… Listen, Satruff, I should like to talk with you alone, when I see you… Yes, alone… Yes. It is important. I can explain the matter when I see you…”
A smile appeared upon Harlow’s lips. Evidently Satruff had agreed to the interview. The physician hung up the receiver. He opened a desk drawer. He drew out a stub-nosed revolver and weighed the weapon in his hand. Then, with a nod, he thrust the gun into his pocket. Closing the door, Doctor Harlow donned hat and coat and strode out through the waiting room.
The figure of The Shadow moved. The door from the laboratory came slowly open. The spectral shape in black edged into the room. The Shadow stood upon the scene, where dramatic tenseness had so recently held sway. Tex Lowner, domineering gang leader, had delivered his ultimatum. He had forced Doctor Wesley Harlow to meet the final issue. The physician had responded. He, in turn, had paved the way to his important visit to Folsom Satruff’s home.
Tex Lowner had gone; Doctor Harlow had departed. Only The Shadow remained. He was to be the third in to-night’s grim game. A soft, whispered laugh broke from The Shadow’s hidden lips. The black-garbed visitor stalked across the office and opened the door to the waiting room.
Into darkness merged The Shadow. A shuddered echo of a whispered laugh lingered, as the only token of this sinister being. The Shadow, like the others, had departed.
He, too, had chosen a mission for to-night!
CHAPTER XVIII. SATRUFF PREPARES
THE door of Folsom Satruff’s upstairs living room was closed. Within the room itself, one man was seated facing a crisply burning fire. This man was Detective Joe Cardona.
The living room had been chosen as Cardona’s post. Here the detective had installed himself in Satruff’s home; here he was in readiness should he be required. Satruff, himself, had taken up new quarters in the library downstairs.
The arrangement had merits. It enabled Satruff to be near the strong-room, with Harry Vincent in attendance. It also made it unnecessary for either Okum or Riggs to visit the upstairs living room, for Satruff had delegated Harry to that duty. Hence Joe Cardona was comfortably out of sight, yet available.
On the other hand, Cardona was highly annoyed by the enforced circumstances. He wanted to be nearer the scene where action might strike, should fiends of the underworld still have designs upon Folsom Satruff’s vaulted wealth.
While Cardona was glowering at the sparks in the fire, the door of the living room opened and closed.
The detective looked up to see Harry Vincent. There was something in the young man’s expression that informed Cardona he was the bearer of important tidings. Harry did not speak until he had reached a chair beside the one which Cardona occupied.
“Mr. Satruff will be upstairs in a few minutes,” declared Harry, in a low tone. “I think something is about to break.”
Cardona’s expression was quizzical. The detective wanted to hear more.
“Doctor Harlow phoned,” explained Harry. “I answered the call. He wanted to talk with Mr. Satruff. Harlow made an appointment for to-night. He is to see Mr. Satruff, here — alone.”
“What did Satruff have to say about it?” asked Cardona.
“Nothing, as yet,” returned Harry. “He told me to come up here and wait for him. He stated that he intended to dictate some letters. Okum was there — near the telephone — and Riggs was somewhere around.”
“I see. Satruff is probably giving them something to do so they won’t wonder why he’s staying up here a while.”
Harry Vincent made no reply to Joe Cardona’s comment. Ever since the detective’s arrival at Satruff’s, The Shadow’s agent had played a passive part. Cardona had held a conference with Satruff; after that the pair had taken Harry into their confidence, so that he could serve as a go-between. Harry had done his part so well that neither Okum nor Riggs had actually seen Joe Cardona since his installation here.
YET Harry had discerned that Okum, at least, suspected there was a visitor in the house. Riggs had admitted Cardona on the day when the detective had arrived; Okum had witnessed Cardona’s appearance. Both had been led to believe that Cardona had gone after a short talk with Folsom Satruff.
But it was highly possible that the deception had not been entirely effective.
In fact, Okum, although he had been instructed to remain downstairs, had on several occasions found reason to go to the second floor. Harry had spotted the secretary in such actions and had casually followed him to make sure that he did not enter the living room, which Satruff had stated was closed for the present.
Okum had made no attempt to go into the closed room; nevertheless, Harry held the opinion that the secretary knew quite well that some one had taken the place as a temporary abode.
While Harry and Cardona sat looking at the fire, the door again opened and Folsom Satruff appeared.
The millionaire’s face was grim and slightly troubled. Harry and Joe noticed the expression immediately.
Closing the door, Satruff approached the fire and sat down. He remained a moment in thought; then began to talk in a slow and methodical tone.
“Doctor Harlow is coming here to-night,” stated Satruff. “He is very anxious to see me — on an important matter which he did not choose to explain over the telephone.