The Star of Delhi s-225

by Maxwell Grant

  None knew who the owner of the gems could be, nor did they consider the matter relative to Walder's death since the exhibited gems were gone when robbery began. They felt that the owner of the sapphires might find himself in a spot like Walder, should his name be learned and made public.

  Inasmuch as the police had traced none of the remaining killers, Commissioner Weston was not anxious to add fuel to new crime. He decided to let the subject pass, for the present.

  Mention of the six sapphires, however, had turned the conversation to the Star of Delhi. Before they realized it, the jewelers were talking shop. It didn't take them long to agree on the very thing that Walder had said privately to Lenfell - that there was only one expert in New York to whom the cutting of the great stone could be entrusted: Roger Sherbrock.

  Whether Sherbrock could have found time for the task was another question. According to the jewelers, the expert cutter was working night and day on orders of long standing.

  The technical talk bored Weston, and his friend Cranston walked out in the middle of it. Inasmuch as The Shadow was interested in tracing the past history of the Star of Delhi, a prompt visit to Sherbrock's had become a logical step. Before leaving the club, The Shadow telephoned Margo and asked her to meet him near Sherbrock's place of business.

  At present, The Shadow's agents, Moe Shrevnitz included, were busily seeking traces of Dwig Brencott, who had conveniently left town not long after the Walder affair. Upon meeting Margo, who came in her own car, The Shadow explained the new situation in Cranston's style.

  He wanted Margo to drive him to Sherbrock's and wait outside, while he interviewed the gem cutter.

  Margo observed that Cranston was carrying a briefcase. He opened it, to take out a small bag containing some uncut diamonds which he intended to show Sherbrock.

  Margo suspected that the briefcase also contained a slouch hat and a black cloak; but if it did, the garments were packed so deeply that she could not see them.

  Sherbrock's place was on the second floor of a rather old and dilapidated building in a fairly disreputable neighborhood. It looked like an ideal place for crime, except that the windows were barred. Lights from the second floor indicated that Sherbrock and other cutters were at work.

  Alighting from Margo's car, Cranston strolled into the building, and just as he passed through the doorway the girl noticed that he had taken the briefcase with him.

  A blunt-faced husky was in charge of the second-floor portal. He looked like a janitor, but acted as if he were Sherbrock's confidential secretary. Impressed by the visitor in evening clothes, he accepted Cranston's card and took it through an inner door that looked like the entrance to a strong room.

  While waiting, The Shadow observed several other small rooms with heavy doors, evidently the work-shops assigned to the gem cutters.

  There were large safes around the floor, at least a dozen of them, and when The Shadow was ushered into Sherbrock's own workroom, he saw three more in different corners of the room.

  It was an office, also, for Sherbrock was seated behind a desk, going over stacks of correspondence.

  He looked up, studied Cranston briefly, then dismissed the husky watchman.

  ROGER SHERBROCK had a strong, deep-lined face that marked him as a businessman, rather than an artificer; but exacting work had taken its toll of him. Any man who followed the profession of the lapidary invariably acquired a careful eye, and Sherbrock was no exception to the rule of gem cutters.

  Nevertheless, he seemed able to take time out from his professional work to talk terms with customers, particularly those who looked as prosperous as Cranston.

  Sherbrock was all business when The Shadow mentioned diamonds; but when the gems came from the briefcase, the lapidary promptly reached for a magnifying lens, pressed it to his eye and forgot that he had a customer, in order to examine the uncuts. Meanwhile, The Shadow made a further appraisal of the strong room.

  Behind Sherbrock's desk was a huge door that dwarfed the heavy safes. It was the front of a large vault that measured at least six feet in every direction, something which could readily be estimated, since the door of the vault was partly open.

  Since the vault was empty, The Shadow assumed that Sherbrock placed the more valuable gems into some of the smaller safes, and wheeled them into the vault when he closed up shop. A very logical process, since movable safes could be rolled from one workroom to another, whenever required. Such a practice was the perfect way to keep rare jewels under lock, except when Sherbrock's assistants were actually working on them.

  The uncut diamonds interested Sherbrock, but he was loath to discuss their merits at so late an hour.

  "If you would come back tomorrow, Mr. Cranston," he suggested, in a brisk tone, "I should be glad to examine these diamonds in detail. If you care to leave them, I can give you a receipt for them. You doubtless know that some of the most famous gems in existence have been entrusted to our custody."

  There was a keen look in Sherbrock's right eye, the result, perhaps, of its recent association with the magnifying lens. Yet his statement could have been a probing one, an effort to find out if Cranston supposed that Sherbrock had recently handled the cutting of the celebrated Star of Delhi. Certainly, the words offered The Shadow a chance to question Sherbrock on the subject.

  But The Shadow ignored the opportunity. He preferred to have a longer chat with Sherbrock before discussing sapphires instead of diamonds. Reaching for the chamois bag that contained the diamonds, he quietly decided to take the uncut gems along with him.

  That action, more than a blunt question, produced results with Sherbrock. Following his visitor to the door, the lapidary apologized for having been so abrupt.

  "Some gems are coming in shortly," explained Sherbrock, a trifle nervously. "A very special assortment, from Baldwin Associates, one of the most reliable wholesale houses in the city. They always insist upon a detailed receipt for all the gems they send us.

  "Therefore, I shall be very busy for the next hour, at least. Frankly, I do not like to receive shipments so late at night. There have been too many robberies lately, and the Walder affair was so shocking that I have felt uneasy ever since."

  Again, Sherbrock was laying a lead that might bring mention of the Star of Delhi. But his tone was such that anyone, even The Shadow, could have accepted it either of two ways.

  It might be that Sherbrock knew much about the great sapphire, and was feeling Cranston out; on the contrary, Sherbrock gave something of an impression that he knew nothing of the gem's history and hoped that perhaps his visitor did.

  The Shadow's only response was a disinterested nod. He strolled out through the main door, which the blunt-faced watchman held open for him.

  As he descended the stairs, The Shadow saw an armored truck pull up in front of the building. It bore the name: "Baldwin Associates."

  It wasn't sight of the truck that interested The Shadow, mostly. The other thing he noticed was a low-built car that cruised past, for no good reason, and swung into an alleyway that led to the rear of Sherbrock's building.

  Observing a rear door on the ground-floor passage, The Shadow stepped toward it, only to find it heavily locked. At that moment, two uniformed men came in from the armored truck and started upstairs, carrying a heavy box between them. The Shadow drew back beneath the stairs and heard their footsteps pass overhead.

  A third man was overtaking the other two, for The Shadow could hear his quicker, lighter footsteps.

  Apparently, the burden carriers waited for him, for The Shadow heard voices; then the procession continued.

  Meanwhile, The Shadow was sweeping hat and cloak from his briefcase, intending to obliterate the guise of Cranston and make a foray to the rear alley. New footsteps caused him to delay; they were very light and hesitating, as they came in from the front and moved a short way up the steps.

  Dropping hat and cloak, The Shadow stepped into sight, as Cranston, just as he heard a girl's low, anxious voice:

>   "Lamont!"

  It was Margo. The Shadow gave a quiet response as he stepped into sight. Margo clutched his arm across the banister. She didn't ask why he had gone from sight when the men from the truck entered.

  Margo had something more to tell.

  "Those men who came in -"

  "I saw them, Margo," The Shadow interposed. "The two in uniform."

  "But did you see the third?"

  The Shadow shook his head.

  "I did!" blurted Margo. "He was Dwig Brencott!"

  In a style that was rapid for Cranston, The Shadow took a look out to the street. The truck was a short distance ahead, and no one in it appeared to be keeping lookout. Drawing Margo from the doorway, The Shadow pointed her to her car.

  "Have the motor running," he said calmly. "Others may be along. If they come too close, get started.

  Circle the block, and should they follow you, blow the horn. I'll recognize it."

  Margo smiled despite her tensity. Her car had a musical chime that played "East Side - West Side," and very probably crooks like Dwig Brencott wouldn't be running around with horns of that type, hence Lamont wouldn't have much trouble identifying the right note.

  With Margo gone, The Shadow picked up his cloak and hat in rapid time. He was donning them as he hurried up the stairs. Though speedy, he was quiet, for he wanted to see where the husky guard was. The fellow had gone from the door, leaving the way clear.

  Sliding into the large room, The Shadow neared the door of Sherbrock's workshop office and was flat against the wall when the husky guardian came out, leaving the door ajar.

  Peering through, The Shadow saw that Margo was right. The third man from the truck was Dwig. He was wearing street clothes, and he was leaning over Sherbrock's shoulder while the lapidary sorted a large array of jewelry that strewed the desk. On either side stood the two guards, watching the process.

  A gun half drawn, The Shadow was waiting for a timely moment to move in on the conference, when he heard a hoarse shout from the guard at the outer door. As The Shadow turned, a surge of men came straight for Sherbrock's office, hurling the human watchdog ahead of them. So impetuous was their dash, that they flanked in upon The Shadow before he could wheel away.

  Twisting back across the doorway, The Shadow tried to trick the sudden attackers by a reverse dive in the opposite direction - a move that would have succeeded, had not one stalwart supplied a lucky flying tackle that carried himself and The Shadow right through the doorway, into the light of Sherbrock's office, where they rolled aside, just clear of the trample from incoming feet.

  It was then that The Shadow gave his tackler a further fling and came up, gun in hand, to meet a somewhat dazed opponent who had a revolver, but who was slow in bringing it to aim.

  Finger on trigger, The Shadow could have fired, but didn't. He recognized the face of the fellow who had tackled him and come out worse in the sprawl. It was the swarthy countenance that belonged to Inspector Joe Cardona!

  These men weren't more of Dwig's mob, coming to aid him in some fell work. The Shadow had encountered the wrong foemen - the police!

  CHAPTER VII. PROOF OF CRIME

  "Lookout, Sherbrock!"

  It was Dwig Brencott who shouted the warning, and his cry took the attention of the invading detectives.

  They knew that Cardona had tackled an opponent they had scarcely seen, but supposed that their leader had come out winner. For some reason, Sherbrock was the man they had come after, so they surged straight for him.

  But Dwig and his men were quicker. It was Dwig who grabbed Sherbrock and fairly hurled him into the open door, while the two men with him, mobbies in guard uniform, seized the desk and hoisted it at the invading police.

  Detectives ducked amid a shower of scattering jewels. They fired as they dived aside, but their shots were wide, for the desk was heavy and they had to avoid it.

  By the time Cardona's men had a chance to take real aim, Dwig's uniformed pals were into the vault, too, hauling the big door shut behind them. It had hardly closed, before bullets from police specials began to bash the steel front.

  Finding that they couldn't drill the heavy metal, the detectives sprang to the door and tried to get it open.

  It was locked, automatically, from the inside.

  In their futile effort to overtake four fugitives, the detectives left the door of the room quite clear. On his feet, The Shadow whisked out through that convenient exit, seen only by Cardona, who lost sight of the cloaked fighter between blinks.

  Then, seeing what the detectives were about, Cardona found his own feet and started to join them, only to stop short and listen.

  Cardona heard a sound which his excited men did not - the rumble of an elevator, coming from the wall that held the vault door. Joe shouted for his men to stop attacking the steel barrier.

  "They've taken a way out!" Cardona bawled. "That's no vault. It's an elevator! They're getting to the rear alley. Come on - we're going down to head them off!"

  Getting to the alley wasn't so simple as Cardona supposed, considering that all the windows in Sherbrock's place were barred, while the rear passage, downstairs, ended in a heavily locked door.

  Bellowing orders as he reached the top of the stairs, Cardona heard responses from officers below: men that he had left down there. They were trying to get through to the alley, and couldn't.

  The only thing was to go around by the front, and Cardona beckoned them toward the stairs. Joe was in too great a hurry to think of something that would ordinarily have puzzled him: namely, what had become of The Shadow. Somewhere between Sherbrock's offices and the floor below, the cloaked intruder had mysteriously vanished!

  It happened that The Shadow had found what Cardona wanted, a short route to the rear alley.

  SHERBROCK'S windows were barred, but others on the second floor were not. Cutting out from Sherbrock's. The Shadow had swung in back of the stairway leading up to the third floor, on chance of finding a suitable window - which he did.

  It was narrow, barely large enough for The Shadow to slide his lithe form through. Once the squeeze was accomplished, he dropped to the ground below, the only token of his arrival being the swish of his cloak.

  That sound wasn't heard. Others were making a loud clatter in the alley. Out of a rear door that slid suddenly open came Sherbrock, impelled to rapid gait by pressure of Dwig Brencott and the two thugs who wore the uniforms of armored-truck drivers.

  There was a car in the alley, the low-built sedan that The Shadow had seen earlier. The fugitives dived into it, scooping up Sherbrock as he stumbled on the step.

  The car was in motion when The Shadow turned and aimed low, swift shots at a rear tire. The answer was a clang, repeated with each bullet. The Shadow's fire had found an intervening fire plug, invisible against the fenders of the moving car. It was a squatty fire plug, wide enough to stop two shots, though The Shadow sliced them at slightly different angles.

  Those blasts brought a jolt from the car, as though it had been hit. The driver veered across the street and zigzagged back again, putting all his weight on the accelerator. Off at a wild speed, taking a crazy course, the car was roaring away in a fashion calculated to offset the efforts of any marksman.

  The Shadow held his next shots until the car swung the corner. There, the zigzag couldn't help. He ripped a rear tire broadside, and saw the car take a real jounce under the impetus of the bursting rubber. The car disappeared around the corner, but it wasn't going far. The Shadow started on the run to overtake it.

  From the sharp crack of the first shots, Cardona recognized that he had heard them through an open window. Still on the second floor, Joe dived beyond the stairs and thrust his head and shoulders out in time to see the effect of The Shadow's second fusillade.

  Unable to wedge his stocky form through the narrow opening, Cardona decided to go out by the front way - a wise choice, considering that the fugitive car was no longer in the rear street.

  Downstairs, Cardona
found police cars and sprang into one, ordering a rapid chase.

  Meanwhile, The Shadow had reached the rear corner, where he paused only to pick a darkened course across the side street to the wrecked car, which was tilted high upon the curb. Resuming his dash, he arrived at the sedan and found it empty.

  A passageway between two buildings explained where Sherbrock and the crooks had gone. It was very short, and led to a wide street that cut through this neighborhood at an angle. Looking for a car, The Shadow saw one swing hesitatingly toward him. It was Margo's.

  With a long leap, The Shadow hooked the door of the coupe, opened it, and dropped in beside the girl, so suddenly that she could only give a breathless gasp. Margo had been looking for Cranston, but by the time the door had slammed, she wasn't surprised to see The Shadow, instead.

  In sharp, whispered tone, he was questioning if she had seen the fugitives. She hadn't, but she had spotted something else.

  "The armored truck!" Margo exclaimed. "It started away before I did. It was gone when the police arrived. But I saw it again, just now, going around the next corner!"

  THE SHADOW ordered a chase. As Margo put speed into the coupe, she realized that the armored truck must have picked up the fugitives that The Shadow was after. A few turns and she saw the truck once more, as did The Shadow. It was taking a corner and guns spouted from its loopholes. Wide shots, that didn't damage Margo's coupe.

  Leaning from his window, The Shadow responded, aiming for the tires. His aim was accurate, but the truck's tires were bulletproof, as The Shadow expected, though he considered it worth-while to test them. Then The Shadow's free hand, lunging to the left, shoved the wheel from Margo's control and sent the coupe skewing around a nearer corner.

  Margo caught the idea as The Shadow let her resume control. He wanted to pursue the truck along a parallel street.

  Across their path flashed a police car. Rapidly, The Shadow yanked the wheel again, thus informing Margo to follow the prowl car.