“Come along,” whispered the detective. “This trail is getting hot. That bird Harlow is working some smooth racket. You head for the stairs. Tip me when it’s O.K. to follow.”
At the door of the living room, Harry Vincent paused. He reached out and pressed the wall switch. The room was plunged into darkness.
“Good idea,” whispered Cardona. “That covers me while I keep the door open.”
Harry Vincent smiled as he moved into the dim light of the upper hall. The move which he had just made, had, by its very naturalness, completely deceived Detective Joe Cardona.
The sleuth had seen the extinguishing of the light as a move of strategy on Harry’s part. Little did he realize that it could have been a signal to watching eyes stationed outside of Folsom Satruff’s Long Island mansion!
Harry Vincent was playing his part well. From the air, by radio, he had picked up a subtle message from his chief, The Shadow. Word from The Shadow! In return, Harry had obeyed instructions to perfection.
By his artful pressure of the light switch, The Shadow’s agent had given the return message. In answer to The Shadow’s call, Harry Vincent had sent word to The Shadow!
CHAPTER XX. IN THE STRONG-ROOM
FOLSOM SATRUFF and Wesley Harlow were in the strong-room. They had come here without incident. Harlow, nervous as usual, had gazed about him going through the lower hall. He had seen a light in Satruff’s living room, where the door was ajar. That was all.
As soon as he had turned on the light in the strong-room, Satruff had gone directly to the huge vault.
Before he worked the combination, however, he turned to Harlow with a quiet smile.
“The strength of a vault,” remarked Satruff, “lies in its combination. Therefore, I must ask you not to watch me too closely while I work the knobs. Stand here” — he moved Harlow back to a spot just beyond the passage through which they had come — “and wait until the vault is open.”
As he went back to the vault, Satruff continued to speak in a calm and methodical tone.
“Keep watch, Harlow,” he suggested. “Tell me if you hear anything that is disturbing. My entire mind is occupied when I turn this combination. I am the only one who knows it. No one — not even Okum — has ever learned the combination of this vault.”
Oppressive silence followed. Seconds went tensely by Harlow, standing with folded arms by the partly opened door, made no attempt to move forward. The physician’s face showed keen eagerness. He was waiting for the revelation of wealth.
It was while this situation still existed that Harlow fancied he heard a creeping sound in the passage. The physician did not move; he simply stared toward the door. Then came a clang as Satruff sprang the lock of the vault. The big door opened, long enough to catch Harlow’s momentary attention. Then the physician’s gaze went back to the entrance of the passage.
Coming through the door was a hand that held a revolver! The weapon was pointing toward Folsom Satruff! For a moment, Harlow stood stock-still, as he stared at the shaky, yellowed claw that held the gun. Then, as the arm moved further inward, the physician acted.
WITH a quick leap, he fell upon the projecting arm and twisted it with a fierce swing that brought its owner hurtling into the room. With the same move, Harlow caught the gun with his other hand and wrested it free from the fingers that had grasped it.
A form went sprawling across the floor. Harlow covered the man with the gun that he had seized. The fellow had dropped face downward. As he scrambled to his feet in crablike fashion, Harlow recognized him. The man who had lost the gun was Bartlett Okum!
The secretary’s face showed fright. His arms came up; his hands spread out like talons. He half crouched as he backed toward the vault.
Okum, however, was not the only one who stood in consternation. Folsom Satruff, surprised by the noise of the sudden fracas, had turned around. He, too, stood fearful. His hands went above his head.
“What is this, Harlow?” gasped Satruff, in a terrorized tone. “What is this? Why are you covering us with that gun?”
“I’m covering Okum,” announced Harlow, sternly, as the secretary backed directly toward Satruff.
“You have betrayed me, Harlow!” Satruff’s voice had risen to a scream. “You have betrayed me! I see your game!”
Harlow hesitated. He was loath to lower the gun on account of Okum, not knowing what the secretary might do. The physician had moved forward instinctively. He wanted to allay Satruff’s fears. Before he could reply, however, he heard a sound behind him. An instant later, a rod of metal jabbed into Harlow’s ribs.
“Drop that gun!” came the growl of Joe Cardona.
Harlow let the revolver clatter to the floor. He raised his own hands above his head as he turned to face the man who had come to trap him. Beyond Cardona, Harlow saw Harry Vincent.
The physician paled. His arms shook. Words failed to reach his lips. Satruff and Okum had let their hands fall. The millionaire was stepping forward to speak to Joe Cardona.
“You were right, Cardona,” he announced in a sorrowful tone. “I brought Harlow here in good faith. I did not imagine that he was covering me with a revolver, until Okum entered. Then Harlow trapped both of us.”
“We’ve got you, Harlow,” growled Cardona. “Got you with the goods. What more, we’re going to put you where you belong this time!”
“I have done nothing,” protested Harlow, as he found his voice. “I came here — as Satruff says — in good faith. He promised me some money — he brought me here to give it to me—”
“We know all that,” interrupted Cardona. “But that gun permit of yours won’t help you out on this job. Foxy guy, eh? When the mobs couldn’t do it, you thought you’d hoax Satruff yourself. Well, we fooled you. The one-man job is a flop.
“I’ve got your number. You plugged Pug Hoffler and you tried to put out Rabbit Gorton. You knew that they might blab when the game didn’t work. You’re the guy who worked from the inside. Brought them from the outside in. Now you’re trying to start from the inside out.”
Cardona’s face was triumphant as the detective threw a quick glance at Folsom Satruff.
“You see I was right, don’t you?” laughed Cardona grimly. “I knew this bird for a Raffles the moment I spotted him that first night. This is what the commissioner wanted. We’ve got the guy in back of the game and we’ve got the goods on him.”
Satruff was slowly nodding. Okum, standing placidly behind his employer, showed nervousness. But the secretary’s manner gave no indication of anything, except fear from the recent ordeal.
WESLEY HARLOW realized this. His brain was in confusion. Cardona stood before him as a stern inquisitor. The detective, true to form, saw an opportunity to make a quick quiz here on the ground.
Cardona was a great believer in the theory that a criminal will speak when trapped.
“Come on, Harlow,” urged the sleuth. “It won’t do any good to stall. We know all about you. Spill it and get your conscience clear. It’ll save you a lot of trouble later on.”
Harlow dropped his arms. He raised his right hand to his forehead and wiped the perspiration from his brow. For a moment, he stood in dull fashion. Then, with an effort, he chewed his lips and gazed at the men about him. His eyes caught Okum’s face. A sudden idea swept through his brain. Then, staring straight at Joe Cardona, Wesley Harlow began to speak.
“All right,” he said firmly. “I’ll tell the truth. I’ll tell you everything. It’s the only way out. But it’s going to surprise you when you hear it.”