THE SHADOW PLANS
WHEN Moose Shargin again joined Garry Elvers in the house adjacent to the residence of Hiram Mallory, the gang leader merely uttered a grunt that caused his bodyguard to follow him.
The two men left the house and entered their coupe. They drove along the street, turned a corner and doubled back to Broadway.
At the same time, a man stepped from the obscurity of a house front across the narrow street. Although he made no apparent effort to conceal himself, he was virtually invisible in the darkness.
He walked rapidly toward Broadway. There he hailed a passing cab and told the driver to travel leisurely up the bright thoroughfare.
This man was wearing a black cloak and a dark, broad-brimmed hat. He seemed to have perfectly anticipated the direction which the coupe would take, for it shot out from a side street before the cab had reached the corner.
The taxi moved behind the coupe as it rolled up Broadway. The smaller car turned eastward a few blocks later. The taxi followed, the driver responding to a quiet order from the man in back.
The coupe reached a garage and entered. The taxi passenger discharged his vehicle half a block farther on.
When Moose Shargin and his bodyguard came from the garage and walked to an apartment hotel not far distant, they were followed by a long, shadowy shape that flitted mysteriously along the sidewalk.
The gangsters went into the hotel building. This was their abode. After they were gone, a soft laugh echoed in the gloom of the street. The shadowy form was again manifest. It moved away.
No one could have traced the course of that mysterious splotch of blackness. It vanished completely, as though it had no destination more real than just thin air.
It was the shadow of a man — a man so shadowlike that he was called The Shadow. It was not until half an hour that this being of the night again manifested himself.
Then his whereabouts were known only to himself, in the obscurity of a pitch-black room, the sanctum of The Shadow.
A LIGHT clicked, under the touch of an unseen hand. The rays of a hanging lamp spread themselves upon the surface of a polished table. Two long, slender hands came into view beneath the lamp.
They were white hands, adorned with a solitary ring that bore a strange gem. From the depths of a perfect fire opal glowed mysterious, shimmering colors, that changed from crimson to purple.
This was The Shadow’s only jewel — a girasol. Collectors of rare gems would have coveted that stone.
The hands were at work. Upon the table they spread a detail map of Manhattan, backed by a base of thick cardboard.
The fingers inserted glass-headed pins into the map. The pins indicated important spots.
One pin located the old house that had belonged to Theodore Galvin. Another showed the building in which Richard Harkness had died. Beside it, a third pin touched the spot where Acting Inspector Herbert Zull had been surprised by an attack in the dark.
These pins were placed rapidly in position. Now came new ones: a pin for the Cobalt Club, a pin for the Hotel Thermon. The fingers, bringing up new pins, set two markers side by side, one indicating the house where Moose Shargin had gone, the other the residence of Hiram Mallory, which stood adjacent.
A pin indicated the apartment hotel where Shargin and Elvers lived.
The fingers produced a white pin and placed it in a block far uptown. They produced a black pin and laid it on the map. That completed the preliminary work.
Eyes in the dark surveyed the chart, as a general would plan his campaign.
The right hand became busy. On a sheet of paper it wrote the names of the places indicated by the pins. Beside the word “white,” it inscribed the name “Betty Mandell.” After the word “black,” it wrote “Robert Galvin,”
These names were self-explanatory. The first meant the refuge where Betty Mandell was now abiding. The second was intended for the place where Bob Galvin might be a captive. Only, the black pin had no location.
Thus The Shadow visualized the scene of operations and provided for the objective which lay before him.
Hiram Mallory would have smiled, had he seen that map. For it bore out his belief — that The Shadow knew the real Bob Galvin was missing.
The hand crumpled the sheet of paper, but left the pins in position. Now it drew forth another paper and placed it on the table.
This was a waiter’s slip from the Cobalt Club. Upon it were inscribed the cryptic characters of the peculiar message left by Theodore Galvin. A slender finger rested upon the pin that indicated the old mansion. A slight chuckle came from the darkness.
The Shadow had divined one fact: namely, that this same peculiar code had been sought in the old house, or had been found there.
AN ENVELOPE was brought beneath the lamp. It bore a Paraguayan stamp, and was postmarked Asuncion.
The fingers drew a letter from the envelope. They spread the paper, and written lines were in view. These lines were in code, with spaces between them. The right hand took a pen and wrote the translation:
When Theodore Galvin died he was in the company of a man named Reynold Barker. He answers the description of the man found in Galvin’s study. Barker left Asuncion by airplane immediately after Galvin’s death. Supposed cause of Galvin’s demise, yellow fever. Investigation indicates poisoning. Have obtained this information by investigation of attending physician. Have also learned that Galvin talked with Barker. His last words — in English — were addressed to Barker. They were incoherent and only partly understood by those who were present. The word “desk” was heard — also another word, thought to be “studio.” It might well be “study.” This completes investigation. Have cabled to that effect and will return by next boat unless contrary reply is received.
Underneath the coded letter, the hand wrote a name, thus giving the message its only signature. The name the hand wrote was Harry Vincent. This was the name of one of The Shadow’s trusted agents.
Hardly had the hand written, before the translation of the letter began to fade. It went word by word, as though erased by an invisible brush. The signature which had been supplied was the last to go.
This strange effect was due to the disappearing ink in which the letter was written — ink prepared by a chemical formula known only to The Shadow.
The hands now busied themselves with the slip from the Cobalt Club — that important sheet of paper which carried the copy of Theodore Galvin’s cryptic marks.
The slip lay upon the large map, close to the pin which showed the old mansion’s location. Invisible eyes were poring over it, pondering upon each mysterious character, seeking to learn the message which it bore.
Ten minutes went by, and not once did the hands move. Then came a sudden action.
The slip was laid to one side. A slender finger tip moved from one pin to another. It stopped on the pin that showed the mansion.
The left hand appeared, carrying a gold-headed pin. The fingers of this hand carefully inserted the pin in a spot on the map.
A laugh sounded in the darkness — a hollow, mirthless laugh that carried a strange significance. The laugh dwindled to a whisper, and its eerie echoes reverberated from the walls of the dark room, so low and soft that one could not have known when the laugh ended and only echoes followed.
The right hand wrote new words on a piece of paper. They formed a column as follows:
Green — Vincent. Blues — Burbank. Gold — Burke. White and Black.
That was all. Yet those brief statements formulated The Shadow’s plan; they were the outline of his campaign.
Three of his trusted agents were named. Vincent was connected with the green pin, and such a pin marked the old homestead of Theodore Galvin.
Burbank was designated to two blue pins, for blue was the color of the twin pins that showed Hiram Mallory’s home and the house which adjoined it.
Burke’s name, with the gold, indicated that the newspaperman was delegated to the spot most recently marked on the map.
White and black, with no name following, could mean but one thing: that The Shadow, himself, had chosen to watch over the refuge where he had put Betty Mandell in safety, and that he was to find the place to which Bob Galvin had been taken.
The fingers toyed with the brown pin that marked the abode of Moose Shargin. The mind in the dark was speculating. At last, it must have come to a satisfactory solution, for the movement of the fingers stopped. Finally, the hand picked up the black pin and placed it with the brown.
Here, again, was a significant action. It meant that The Shadow had decided that Moose Shargin was the key to Bob Galvin. It would be his duty to watch the gang leader who was so closely identified with Hiram Mallory’s schemes.
The map was removed from the table, the pins still in place. The light went out. A low laugh sounded through the room. The Shadow was gone.
NOT long afterward, George Clarendon appeared at the Hotel Thermon. He inquired for the key to Room 1128 — the room next to the one occupied by Thaddeus Westcott, which was 1124.
Clarendon did not go upstairs immediately. He stopped to glance at the shipping page of a morning newspaper. His keen eyes noted that the steamship Balvaro was due from South America at noon.
Clarendon tossed the newspaper in a wastebasket and went to the elevator.
Five minutes afterward, the telephone buzzed in Room 1122. A quiet-faced man arose from a desk and answered it. He recognized the voice that came over the wire.
“Hello, Burbank,” it said. “All right?”
“Yes,” replied the quiet-faced man.
“I just came in,” said the voice in a low tone. “I thought I’d call to see if you were still up.”
“I’m going to bed now,” replied Burbank.
“All right, I’ll call you to-morrow.”
Burbank laid down the telephone and turned out the light. He had been on watch, in this room reserved for him, while The Shadow had been engaged on other enterprises. His brief comment had indicated that no one had disturbed the repose of Thaddeus Westcott.
Burbank’s vigil was ended. Another man had assumed the duty.
Burbank held no doubts regarding the safety of the elderly man in the next room. Thaddeus Westcott would leave for his Southern trip to-morrow, even though the hordes of gangland might attempt to prevent him. For The Shadow was now on the watch.