EIGHT FOUR EIGHT
EIGHT FOUR EIGHT!
The meaning of those numbers was obvious to Herbert Carpenter, as he sat in his room at the Hotel Pavilion. They meant Room 848, in this same hotel. There, Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves were due to meet tonight at nine.
Nearly twenty-four hours had elapsed since Carpenter had entered and left Big Tom Bagshawe’s office above the vaulted dome of the Club Catalina.
It was nearly nine now. Carpenter rose and gripped his pocket revolver. He had not been idle to-day. He had found the layout of Room 848, and had discovered a most vital point about it. The room had a balcony, extending to Room 850. The latter was vacant.
Carpenter was no cracksman; but he was shrewd. That morning, pretending that he had lost his own key, he had obtained a master key from an attendant. Before returning it, he had gained an impression by pressing the key in a small box of wax.
An obscure locksmith had made a key from the impression. Herbert Carpenter was equipped to enter Room 850.
Walking through the corridor toward the desired room, Carpenter again found himself wondering about The Shadow. He felt that he was out to gain important information. He must use it alone, should he obtain it. There might be trouble tonight — and The Shadow would not know!
Carpenter felt a strange exultation. It was not one of vengeance. Its inspiration was a new sensation. For once, he was working for the right!
Never in his life had Carpenter felt the urge to turn detective. He had held a contempt for professional sleuths. But now, pitting his wits against those of double-crossing crooks, he experienced a satisfaction that he had never before known.
He realized that he had been a rat in the past. He had been like Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves, the men whom he was out to thwart tonight.
The present Herbert Carpenter felt a contempt for the Herbert Carpenter of the past; and he felt very little pity for the Herbert Carpenter of the future — the one who would go back behind the bars.
There was work to do — after that, prison would be the reward. Flight? It had occurred to Carpenter, but he had dismissed it. The menace of The Shadow had influenced him at first; but after that, he had felt a disdain toward himself for having thought of it.
He, Herbert Carpenter, had been double-crossed. He was out to smash the double-crossers. A being greater than he had given him the chance — The Shadow. Why should Carpenter, who hated double-crossers, attempt to double-cross the master who had befriended him and given him the money that he needed?
That was the train of thought passing through Carpenter’s mind as he neared Room 850, at the end of a long, dim corridor.
With Carpenter, crime had been a profession. He had shown no regard for those who had been his dupes; at the same time, he had always played fair, in his own twisted way, with his associates in crime.
Now, he had crossed the fence. He would play fair there, too. He was working for The Shadow, obedient to all commands, despite the inexorable judgment of the mysterious being in black — the judgment that meant Carpenter’s return to prison walls.
As he opened to door to Room 850, Carpenter failed to notice a huge, broad patch of black that stretched along the floor from the end of the corridor. He did not even glance in that direction, where two burning eyes gleamed from the blackness of the wall.
The Shadow was watching!
HERBERT CARPENTER entered the darkened room. He closed the door behind him. He softly opened the window and crouched upon the balcony. He could see the light from 848, and observed, from an angle, that the window of the adjoining room was also open, but he was too cautious to advance closer.
A long, tedious wait. A distant clock struck nine. A few minutes later, Carpenter heard sounds from the adjoining room. Voices were talking near the window. Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves were conversing!
“All set, Hooks?” questioned Shifter.
“Right, Shifter,” replied Hooks. “How about the pier? Everything ready down there?”
“You bet. I’ve got the boat in the submarine elevator. All set to go. We used to bring stuff in by that route. We’ll use it for a getaway tonight.”
“Just like we arranged last night.”
There was a pause. Herbert Carpenter set his lips. Was this to be the end of the conversation? He wished that he had been in on last night’s conference! Evidently, everything had been fully discussed at that time.
“Pretty near time for you to get along,” said Shifter.
“Nine thirty,” responded Borglund. “That’s when I leave.”
“Right on the dot, eh?”
“Not quite. I’ve got my own way of working, Shifter.”
“Yeah? So has Wheels Bryant.”
Another pause; then Shifter resumed:
“I figure Wheels will spring his stunt at ten o’clock. Say — that’s a big one, eh? That dumb committee up at Cruikshank’s house — putting an end to crime!
“Old Pop Yates gets full privileges. Away he goes, to raid Big Tom. Nothing doing there.
“And while he’s down there, while the fat-head committee is on its way, in steps Wheels and walks away with Rufus Cruikshank himself. Boy! It will cost Seaview City a couple of hundred grand to get their dear mayor out of hock!”
The revelation brought a silent gasp from Herbert Carpenter, crouched on the balcony. That was Wheels Bryant’s game tonight! The big shot was pulling one himself!
Wheels was going to kidnap Rufus Cruikshank at ten o’clock, or shortly after! Hold him for ransom — make the Seaview citizens come across!
Shifter Reeves was chuckling in the other room. Carpenter listened intently.
“Great gag, eh?” Shifter was saying. “Big Tom, sitting here — butter melting in his mouth — no longer a gambler — no connection with anything. Of course, they’ll think of him as the intermediary. They’ll beg him to advertise that he’ll pay dough for the lost mayor. He’ll get the cash — Rufus Cruikshank will be brought back! Leave it to Wheels — he knows the lay!”
“What about me?” demanded Hooks. “Guess I’m doing nothing tonight, eh? Before Wheels pulls his stunt, I’ll have that beautiful young heiress all loaded on the boat, waiting for Wheels to show up.
“If Cruikshank is worth a few hundred grand, the jane is worth more than half a million. Big Tom will work that racket, too. A double job.”
Carpenter was more nonplused than before. There would be two kidnappings tonight — the first, by Hooks, at nine thirty; the second, by Wheels, at ten, or shortly after! But who was the girl that Hooks had mentioned?
“They don’t call me Hooks for nothing,” Borglund was growling. “This is my racket, Shifter. You want to know how I’m working it tonight? I’ll tell you.
“I’ve got ten men on the job. Stationed down the line from the girl’s room. Ready for a getaway — ready to stop the bulls if they try to crash. Two of them are going in — may be there now. They’ll get the girl. At nine thirty, sharp, I show up. If there’s been any slip, I’m out of the game entirely.
“That’s how I play safe. But there won’t be any slip. I’m walking down to Suite 600, and when I go out, Miss Lois Grantham will be carried along like a sack of wheat.
“Easy, eh? Looks easy, but it takes brains. That’s all, Shifter. Slide along down to the pier, or I’m liable to beat you there. We’re going to load that jane into a closed rolling chair, and give her a nice easy ride right out to your dockyard—”
HERBERT CARPENTER was no longer listening. He was back in the room, breathlessly waiting by the door. He knew that it must be after nine fifteen now. The kidnapping squad was at work. Soon, Hooks Borglund would be with them.
This called for quick action. Carpenter knew that he must surprise the kidnapers. A swift attack — a big alarm — a getaway — that was the game. Then, if luck stayed with him, he could warn Mayor Cruikshank against Wheels Bryant’s plot!
Carpenter heard a door close in the hall. That was Shifter Reeves, leaving for the pier. No chance to do anything there. Let Shifter wait. A full minute went by. Cautiously, Carpenter opened the door and started down the hall.
There was no strange shadow in the corridor, now. But Carpenter would not have seen it had it still been there. He was thinking only of his mission.
Suite 600 was at the front of the Hotel Pavilion. Carpenter knew of its location. He also had heard of Lois Grantham. She was here with her father, a man of tremendous wealth.
Evidently, some arrangement had been made to decoy the father away; also, the crooks must have made sure that the heiress would be in the suite at the desired time.
Reaching the sixth floor, Carpenter found himself in a perfect location. He had come down by the front stairs. He faced a broad hall. It had two doors, one for each side. On the left was the door numbered 600. The other was numbered 690.
Carpenter was familiar with the arrangement. These two palatial suites each occupied half of the hotel front. The doors evidently led into anterooms, side by side.
Then there were projecting extensions, so that the windows of 600 and 690 faced each other across a narrow court.
All windows must either front on the street or on that court; for there were other suites that took the outer corners of the hotel.
Carpenter saw no signs of watchers. He was sure he knew the reason. This little-used stairway was the path by which Hooks Borglund was to come.
Boldly, with steady step, Carpenter walked across the hall and turned the knob of the door marked 600. The door opened. Carpenter entered.
He had been right about the anteroom. He encountered a blank wall, with a doorway to the left. He went through and found himself in a living room. His entrance, easy and quiet, was perfect in every detail.
Revolver in hand, Carpenter stood in the dimly lighted room. Two men looked toward him from the opposite side. There, on a couch, lay an unconscious girl. One of the men was holding a large cloth in his hand. The odor of chloroform pervaded the room.
Before the two men could make a move, Carpenter was speaking. His stub-nosed revolver glittered in keeping with his words.
“Stick up your mitts!” ordered Carpenter. “One word out of either of you and — it’s curtains!”
The men obeyed. Carpenter had taken them entirely by surprise. They had entered here; they had overpowered the girl; they were expecting Hooks Borglund. A rescuer had come instead.
Covering the men with his revolver, Carpenter walked toward the door, where a telephone table stood. He placed one hand upon the instrument. He knew what lay before him.
A call to the house detectives — to the police — telling them of the situation. They would make a rapid invasion. They would be met by the outlying mobsters. Here, in this room, Carpenter must cover the two who had done the job.
The great menace would be an attack by the outer mob. If that came, there would be but one alternative. Shoot these thugs and defend the door until the police arrived. Carpenter was ready for such action, if it proved necessary. His blood was boiling as he saw this heinous crime in the making.
“One move” — Carpenter’s warning was low — “and I’ll give you the works! Both of you—”
As he reached to raise the receiver of the telephone, he saw one of the gangsters move his lips. The man was staring toward the door. Carpenter turned — too late. A powerful body was hurling itself through the air. Herbert Carpenter went down, his back to the floor.
Staring upward, he saw the face of the man who had overpowered him. It was Hooks Borglund!