THE TRAP IS SPRUNG
GARRY ELVERS smiled as his fingers felt the smooth rope. His murderous instinct was at its highest pitch. He had shot men down in gang wars; but never before had he known the elation of tricking a victim to his unexpected doom.
Garry’s killings had usually been followed by flight. Here was his first chance to gloat over a helpless foe. He paused to wonder whether the gas would poison or simply overpower.
In that moment of hesitation, Garry realized that he was making a mistake. He had been placed here to trap The Shadow — not to capture and dispose of a prying Chinaman.
Suppose he should overpower or kill the man. What would Wing Toy say? Garry had no desire to incur the disfavor of the Tong leader.
But there was another thought — more restraining than the first one. That was the thought of Moose Shargin. A mental picture formed in Garry’s mind — Moose, indignant at his stupidity for wasting the trap that had been laid for The Shadow!
Garry was worrying as he let go the cord and pushed open the door of the closet.
Suppose The Shadow should arrive now!
The gangster realized that there was only one course: to release the Chinaman and send him away before The Shadow came.
Garry strode across the room and listened by the steel curtain. He heard a methodical tapping. Had it been hurried or violent, Garry would have been tempted to ignore it. But there was no sign of terror or excitement on the part of the man within. The tapping convinced Garry that he was in error.
Perhaps the Mongolian had misunderstood Wing Toy’s orders — delivered in Chinese. At any rate, the slow, methodical raps indicated that the prisoner was simply signaling for his release, and appeared to be in no great haste.
Cautiously retreating, Garry pulled the switch. The steel curtain rose.
Covering the tunnel with his automatic, Garry approached. The Chinaman came blandly forth, his shoulders stooped, his hands crossed upon his breast. He grinned at Garry.
The gangster still held his revolver leveled.
“What did you come here for?” Garry demanded.
“Wing Toy, he say comee here,” replied the Chinaman, in pidgin English. “He say lookee to see if man all rightee in there. He say comee soon — lookee — then go away. I comee too late.”
“You’re lucky,” declared Garry, pointing over his left shoulder with his thumb. “I was going to pull that rope. Then it would have been curtains for you. But when I heard you tapping, I let you out.”
“Velee good. You wanee me go now?”
“Yeah,” growled Garry. He was staring at the Chinaman’s hands. There seemed to be a slight bulge in the gown beneath them, as though something was hidden there. “You go fast — and don’t come back. Savvy?”
The Chinaman nodded. Garry glanced into his face. Now, like Moose Shargin, Garry noticed the singular, masklike appearance of those features, with the sparkling eyes that stared from deep hollows.
Their effect was almost hypnotic. The gangster’s watchfulness dwindled momentarily; then, seized by a vague suspicion, he started to raise the gun that he had lowered unthinkingly, while his left hand shot out to seize the Chinaman’s wrist.
But Garry was too late. Before his finger could press the trigger of the automatic, the yellow-faced man was upon him.
The man’s left hand wrested the automatic from Garry’s grasp. His right arm warded aside the gangster’s clutch and, continuing upward, dealt a solid blow to Garry’s chin. The gangster staggered. Before he could recover, the Chinaman clutched him in a jujutsu hold.
Garry, struggling, was hoisted upward; his body revolved in mid-air and landed flat on the floor. The gangster lay stunned.
The victor did not hesitate. His robe slipped from his body. A folded mass of black cloth fell upon the floor beside the unconscious gangster.
The ex-Chinaman leaned over the form of Garry Elvers, scrutinizing the victim’s features. There, in that weird, dim room, an amazing transformation was taking place.
Moose Shargin, at that precise moment, was sitting in a little office on the balcony at the rear of the Manchu Restaurant. He had been ushered there by Looey Look, for whom he had inquired. The restaurant manager had just returned from his trip with Garry Elvers when Shargin arrived.
Wing Toy had not yet appeared. Hence Moose was alone with his thoughts, in the plainly furnished office. He sat in a chair and stared at a metal plate on the wall, above the telephone.
There were several small electric bulbs on the plate; One of them was lighted. Moose wondered what it meant. He waited several minutes. Then he heard a noise at the door, and Wing Toy entered.
“We shall wait here,” said the Tong leader, seating himself opposite Moose.
The gang leader was about to speak when Wing Toy suddenly noticed the light on the wall plate. For once the placid Chinaman registered surprise.
“That light!” he exclaimed. “When did it turn on?”
“It’s been on,” replied Moose.
“Since you came in?”
“Yes.”
“Come!”
Moose followed Wing Toy. He was conducted through the mirrored room, following the route which Garry had traversed with Looey Look. Wing Toy explained as they went.
“That light,” he said, “connects with the door where my guard stands. It means that the door has been opened.”
“You opened it when we went out.”
“I mean it has been opened since then. I fixed the switch. Some one has come in!”
“The Shadow!”
“Hush!” warned Wing Toy.
They were on the landing of the angled passage. The Tong leader moved with feline stealth. Moose duplicated the action. The door of Wing Toy’s sanctum was open.
An automatic gleamed in the Chinaman’s hand. Moose brought his own gat into view. Cautiously, the two peered into the door. Garry Elvers was seated at the desk, his head turned toward the steel curtain, which was lowered.
“Garry!” The exclamation came from Shargin.
The man at the desk faced the door and grinned.
“Did you get him?” Shargin queried.
Garry nodded.
Wing Toy was staring at the open door of the closet. He went there, but did not touch the switch. He noted that the cord had been pulled.
“He’s out,” he said to Shargin.
“Dead?” queried Moose.
“No. The gas does not kill. That follows.”
Wing Toy clicked a switch lower on the wall. A humming sound followed the Tong leader’s action.
“What’s that?” asked Moose.
“A fan,” explained Wing Toy. “An electric fan. It will clear the gas from the tunnel. Then we can enter.”
THE businesslike Chinaman studied a watch on his wrist, while the other men looked on curiously. After three minutes, Wing Toy turned the upper switch. The steel curtain rose.
All three moved forward to peer into the tunnel. At first it seemed empty; then the glare of Wing Toy’s flashlight revealed a huddled form in black, at the far end of the tunnel.
Moose Shargin paused gingerly on the threshold. Garry stood by, holding his automatic.
“Go in,” observed Wing Toy. “Do not worry. The gas cannot fail. The man is unconscious.”
Moose entered. He clutched the black cloak and found it loose upon the man’s shoulders. He lifted it, with the slouch hat that adorned the victim’s head. He turned and tossed the objects into the room, grinning in the light of Wing Toy’s flash.
“Is it The Shadow?” questioned the Chinaman calmly.
“It’s him, all right,” chuckled Moose. “I’ll drag him out. Stay there with your gat, Garry, just to be on the safe side. We can’t be too careful with this bird!”
He entered the tunnel as he spoke, and turned back to speak to Wing Toy. “Let’s have that light in here, so I can spot this guy’s mug.”
The Tong leader stepped into the tunnel and held his light over Moose Shargin’s shoulder. The huddled man lay face downward.
Moose raised the head and turned it upward. An exclamation of utter dumfoundment shot from his parted lips.
The light revealed the face of Garry Elvers!
Even as the cry came from Moose, there was a sharp clang at the mouth of the tunnel. The man in the room — the one they had taken for Garry — had pressed the switch. The trappers were trapped!
“The Shadow!” blurted Moose. “In the room! It’s him! The gas — he’s got us—”
There was only a slight twinge of grimness in Wing Toy’s reply. Even in this predicament, the Tong leader was unruffled.
“The gas container is empty,” he said. “We must wait here until Looey comes. He will release us. But it may be long before he comes.”
While Moose Shargin fumed as he crouched above the helpless form of the real Garry Elvers, Wing Toy silently approached the little porthole window and stared into the room where the prisoner was. The room had only one dim light, hence the glow through the little window was extremely weak.
“Look,” said Wing Toy.
Moose came to the window. What he saw brought new imprecations from him.
Bob Galvin, haggard even in the obscure light, was rising from a couch in the corner. The prisoner was staring in wonderment.
Before him stood a man clad in black — The Shadow, wearing the very garments that Moose had thrown from the tunnel!
“He is very clever,” declared Wing Toy, from the darkness behind Moose. “He has done what no man ever did before. He has found the secret lock to the panel of the real tunnel.”
“He’s taking Galvin away!” snarled Shargin. “Making a clean getaway. Can’t you stop him?”
“There is no way to stop him,” replied Wing Toy, in the tone of a fatalist.
“He’ll get us for this!” groaned Moose. “You and me both, Wing Toy — like he trapped Garry, here — how, nobody knows.”
“I have no quarrel with The Shadow,” said Wing Toy calmly. “He is a wise man. That I can see. He is dangerous to those who oppose him. He will know that this is your work — not mine.”
Another snarl from Moose Shargin told what was happening more effectively than if the gang leader had spoken words.
In obedience to The Shadow’s command, the prisoner was leaving the room where he had been so long confined. He seemed weak and unsteady. The Shadow was aiding him.
As the two men disappeared from Shargin’s view, the one in black turned momentarily toward the little window. Moose saw the glimmer of his eyes. Then he began to understand.
They were the eyes of the Chinese guard — the man who had looked at him and Garry, but who had avoided the gaze of Wing Toy!
“He knocked out your guard!” exclaimed Moose, to Wing Toy. “The guy outside the door — while we were planning in here. It was him you told to go away — and he answered you in your own lingo!
“You’ll find your man lying cold in one of those old hop rooms. Then The Shadow must have come in here and fooled Garry — knocked him unconscious, too — fixed himself up to look like Garry — laying for us—”
The remainder of Moose Shargin’s disjointed explanation became incoherent. Rage was overcoming the thwarted gang leader.
Unaided, The Shadow had deceived watchful eyes, had overpowered two men and had captured the others in their own snare; had found the secret of Wing Toy’s panel!
Bob Galvin had escaped — and The Shadow was gone!
As he waited in the gloom, fuming while Wing Toy quietly looked forward to the arrival of assistance, Moose Shargin fancied that he heard a sinister sound.
Even in the depths of that steel-walled trap, his ears seemed to catch the mocking laugh of The Shadow.