Two men sat in a dark room, looking from the window. Opposite them was the brilliantly lighted front of the Marimba Apartments. The gorgeously uniformed doorman was making his nightly parade.
From the lookout room, on the second floor across the street, the two hidden men could see everything that took place before the apartment.
The window was open; the sounds from the street were quite audible. The two men talked in low-pitched voices, scarcely able to hear each other above the din of the street. They were discussing exciting events that had occurred a few nights before.
“It still amazes me, Harry,” said one. “We knew The Shadow was coming down that alleyway. We did our part, all right, whispering to those two gunmen, while we pretended to be watching the window. But even though we were on the alert, The Shadow passed through without our noticing him!”
The other man laughed.
“The more experience one has with The Shadow,” he replied, “the more remarkable he seems. I had a hunch that we would not hear him enter. Our job was to keep the way clear, Clyde, and we did it.”
“His laugh startled me,” admitted Clyde Burke. “It scared Bull and Carver, too. When you said, ‘Let’s scram!’ they didn’t need any encouragement.
“I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to keep up with them when we ran for that car they had parked around the corner.”
“We covered up our tracks, all right,” added Harry Vincent. “Bull and Carver thought it was best for us to drop out of the picture after that escape. So far as they know, we were just a couple of Chicago gunmen who have gone back to the Middle West.
“I have a hunch that Gunner Macklin wised up — but he can’t trouble us any more.”
“The newspapers are certainly squawking about his death,” observed Clyde. “Wow! What a story I could give them! Steve Lang and Haggerty are still completely mystified.
“Who played the part of Haggerty? Who was the unknown interne? It’s plain to us that The Shadow was one and Palermo the other. But none of the investigators have been able to pick up a clew.
“Palermo must have been desperate, to blot out Macklin the way he did. The Shadow failed to force Macklin’s statement; but Palermo has lost his one lieutenant. He’s up against it, now.”
“You think so?” Harry’s voice was solemn. “Well, you’re wrong there, Clyde. Macklin was the only man living who had anything on Palermo. Now Macklin is gone.
“The Shadow has been checked, Clyde. Without Macklin to testify, there is no chance of revealing Palermo’s crimes. His tracks are completely covered.”
“If they knew the facts about what happened in the Uptown Hospital — “
“They would mean nothing,” interposed Harry. “The Shadow is scarcely more than a myth, so far as actual knowledge is concerned. Palermo, you may be sure, has covered his tracks perfectly.
“There is only one chance — that the police may stumble upon some strange clew that will give them a bona fide starting point. Without that, nothing can be laid to Palermo.”
“WHAT does The Shadow intend to do?”
“Why ask me?” said Harry. “The Shadow, when he acts against supercriminals, is relentless. He seeks to undermine them; to make them betray themselves.
“Many times he has forced dangerous men into corners from which they could not escape. The police have caught them with the goods.
“When The Shadow fails in such an effort, he uses all his power to enmesh his enemy, keeping him in a helpless position. That is what he is doing with Palermo, now.”
“But what will be the result?”
“Palermo will be forced to desperate measures,” explained Harry. “That will give The Shadow another opportunity to break him. Only in the most extreme cases will The Shadow take the law into his own hands.
“You can see how the mesh is tightening. Palermo was terribly dangerous while he controlled a crowd of gangsters through Gunner Macklin. Now, his power has been clipped. Palermo is safer than before, but he has been forced to be on the defense.
“Watching every one who enters the Marimba Apartments, we can keep tabs on Palermo’s visitors.”
Clyde Burke made mental note of two men in evening clothes who were entering the apartment house.
Then he raised an objection.
“There are forty stories in the Marimba Apartments,” he said. “People come and go all evening. How do we know which ones call on Palermo?
“You have a car in the street, waiting to follow any visitor who may leave — but which are Palermo’s visitors, and which are not?”
Harry Vincent laughed.
“I might mention,” he said, “that the night elevator operator at the Marimba Apartments was discharged two days ago. His place has been taken by a new man — a quiet chap, Burbank. I may add that Burbank is one of The Shadow’s operatives.”
Clyde Burke uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Burbank will notify us,” continued Harry. “That is why we are keeping tabs on all arrivals. The first person who calls on Doctor Palermo will be watched on his way to the fortieth floor. We will be notified.”
The effectiveness of The Shadow’s system captured Clyde’s admiration. He realized that he had became an integral part of a smooth machine that was already forcing Doctor Palermo into a helpless position.
Either the murderous physician would be forced to admit defeat and remain a virtual prisoner in his turret above the fortieth floor; or he would be compelled to make a counterstroke that would render him vulnerable.
Clyde knew the dynamic personality of Doctor Palermo, and he felt sure that the man would make a desperate effort to escape from The Shadow’s net.
The situation was dramatic. This was the first evening that the men had watched the entrance of the Marimba Apartments. Clyde had a suspicion that perhaps The Shadow had been on watch the night before. Perhaps the vigil would continue for many nights.
Palermo must have caution as well as wisdom. But if he were waiting for The Shadow to betray his plans, Palermo would wait in vain. For there was no way in which he could detect the watchers hidden across the street.
Clyde and Harry were in an apartment of an older building. The entrance was a street beyond. They did not come within a block of the Marimba Apartments when they made their entry.
“What is Burbank like?” asked Clyde. He was wondering if Doctor Palermo would suspect the new elevator man.
“A quiet chap, as I said before,” answered Harry. “He’s the ideal man for this job. He is a jack of all trades. Operating an elevator is right in his line. He fits the part to perfection.”
“Palermo won’t suspect him?”
“No one would suspect Burbank. The Shadow uses him on very rare occasions. I have never talked with Burbank; in fact, I have scarcely ever seen him.
“The instructions that I received today explained Burbank’s part in this work. That was all that was said about him.”
A LIMOUSINE drew up in front of the Marimba. Two ladies came out of the apartment house and drove away.
A taxicab pulled into the space. The doorman opened the door. A short, stocky man made his exit.
Clyde was watching from an angle. He saw the man pay the driver. The cab rolled away.
Clyde caught a glimpse of the man’s face. He gripped Harry Vincent’s arm excitedly.
“Look, Harry!” he exclaimed. “Do you know who that fellow is?”
“No.”
“It’s Stanley Warwick!”
“The detective?”
“Right! The pride of the New York detective bureau. I’ve interviewed him. He has an international reputation, Harry. He follows up the biggest cases.”
“He just came back from Italy, didn’t he?”
“That’s right. Tracing some of the Mafia. Following a clew that began here in New York. They say that Mussolini offered him plenty to chuck up his job here and stay abroad.”
The hidden men watched the gray-coated figure of Stanley Warwick as the detective entered the Marimba Apartments.
The arrival of this man seemed significant. Both watchers were tense.
“We’ll soon know,” replied Harry.
Three minutes went by. A buzz came from the corner of the room. It was the telephone, which had no bell. Harry went to the instrument and spoke in a low voice.
“Vincent,” he said. “Yes — Right — Man was noted from here — About five feet six — Gray coat — Short brisk walk — Description perfect— Right. Will report.”
He hung up the phone and turned to Clyde, who could barely see him in the light that came from the street.
“That was Burbank,” said Harry quietly. “Stanley Warwick went up to the fortieth-floor. Keep on watch while I report.”
He dialed a number on the phone. It was a private line, Clyde noted, not a phone connecting within the apartment. There was a short pause; then Harry evidently made the connection.
“Vincent,” he said. “Opposite Marimba. Observed man enter. Burke identified him. Stanley Warwick, detective. Burbank called in. Warwick up to forty.”
There was silence as Harry received his reply. Then:
“Orders received,” he said.
The phone hung up, Harry returned to the window.
“We are to stay here,” he said. “Check the time of Warwick’s departure. We are not to follow him. The Shadow evidently knows Warwick’s business here.”
“You have no idea—” began Clyde.
“I have an idea, of course,” returned Harry, with a low laugh. “It is entirely my own; but I believe Stanley Warwick has received a tip.
“From some source unknown to himself, he has received information that has enabled him to piece together fragments of the Gunner Macklin mystery. His visit here tonight is the result.”
“That sounds feasible,” said Clyde. “Yet, after all, we do not know.”
Harry Vincent, standing back from the window, was lighting his pipe. Clyde Burke could see his face illuminated in the tiny glare of the match. He saw his companion’s lips move slowly as they phrased the cryptic sentence:
“Only The Shadow knows!”