“I think I get you, chief,” declared the lieutenant. “Ku-Nuan will head for the trap. The chinks will see him slide into the courtyard. They’ll take a squint at the other passages. But they’ll be watching for Ku-Nuan to come out.”
“Ku-Nuan will not come out,” stated Malfort. “He will hurry through one passage. Near the street, he will enter a side door that leads into the old pawnshop. He will bar that door behind him; he will go up to his lookout post. The Chinese will stay on watch outside the courtyard.”
“Until The Shadow comes?”
“Certainly. That will be after dark. Meanwhile, Ku-Nuan will swing the switch that controls the four beams.”
Spark pondered, seeking a final flaw.
“Suppose The Shadow goes after the door to the hock shop,” he remarked. “That might queer the whole game, chief.”
“The door is sheathed with steel,” stated Malfort. “The Shadow will investigate the courtyard before he attempts to crack that door. Remember the Chinese will pass through the courtyard unmolested, because Ku-Nuan will not swing the switch until after they are gone.”
“And since the chinks get away with it,” approved Spark, “The Shadow won’t mind taking a Brodie. Say, chief, you’ve got it doped out perfect! There’d be a lot of big-shots still alive if somebody had thought up this gag a few years ago.
“I’ll have to use the whole crew, though. No use taking chances with The Shadow, even if he’s bagged. He’ll drop some of my gorillas before we get him. You said fifteen to one; I’ll make it twenty to one.”
Malfort considered. Wardlock spoke, to voice an objection.
“There’ll be no one at the Maribar Hotel,” reminded the secretary, “except Barthow and those inside. Suppose Furbish comes there while Spark and his crew are not available? How can he be handled? Barthow and the inside men can not risk making a commotion at the Maribar.”
“Spark can post one man at a telephone near the trap,” explained Malfort. “Barthow can call there, if Furbish appears. Spark and his outfit can get back to the Maribar in less than fifteen minutes. If Furbish calls on Rowden, he will doubtless remain longer than a quarter hour. Our plans remain the same, so far as Furbish is concerned.”
WITH a wave of his hand, Malfort dismissed the conference. As his companions departed from the room, the master crook warmed his hands before the open fire and chuckled his evil elation. Despite the thoroughness of his schemes for murder, Malfort had encountered opposition from The Shadow; that fact, however, did not disturb this genius of evil.
Long since, Malfort had designed his trap in case The Shadow should prove a threat against his game. The trap was ready – with Ku-Nuan as the bait. The Mongol, moreover, would see that the trap was set.
After tomorrow evening, Malfort was convinced, there would be no more trouble from The Shadow.
CHAPTER X – INTO THE SNARE
“EACH side of the square is a wall. The openings are passages.”
Almost word for word, the statement was Malfort’s; the diagram that a pointing finger indicated was identical with the one that the supercrook had drawn.
The speaker, however, was not Malfort; nor was the pointing hand his. The slow, careful words were delivered by Yat Soon; the finger that touched the lines of the square belonged to the distinguished Chinese arbiter.
Yat Soon was in his reception room. Opposite him, cloaked in black, sat The Shadow. Hours had passed since Malfort had discussed his plans. It was late the next afternoon.
“At four o’clock today,” declared Yat Soon, solemnly, “Ku-Nuan was seen in Chinatown. That is why I dispatched my request that you come here. Meanwhile, my men followed Ku-Nuan and brought back word of his whereabouts.”
Yat Soon made a penciled mark – an arrow that indicated the chief entrance of the trap.
“This was where Ku-Nuan went. He did not reappear. My men found the other passages. They entered the courtyard. There was no sign of Ku-Nuan.
“It is possible that he slipped swiftly away. But it is more probable, Ying Ko, that he came through the far passage and stopped by a door near its outlet. Had he entered that door and barred it after him, he could be within the house that has a window on its second floor.”
Yat Soon indicated the far wall of the trap. He unfolded a sheet of rice paper that bore characters in Chinese and passed it to The Shadow, who read the legend as easily as if it had been in English.
The text was a description given by one of Yat Soon’s competent men. It told of three blank walls within the courtyard; also of a fourth, with solid shuttered windows on its ground floor, an unbarred window on the second.
Yat Soon’s Chinese informant had left no detail uncovered. His description of projecting shutters; his figures, with exact dimensions as to width of windows, their height above the ground – these gave The Shadow a perfect picture of the courtyard.
Laying the paper aside, The Shadow spoke words in Chinese. Yat Soon nodded solemnly.
“I share your opinion, Ying Ko,” announced the arbiter. “The upper window could well serve Ku-Nuan. From that spot he could hurl a knife, much as he did one night ago. There would be no post to protect you.
“You are correct also when you state that all will surely be dark within that courtyard. My searchers found no trace of lights. Ku-Nuan, like yourself, would require darkness. Nevertheless, Ying Ko, I fear a snare. It would be wise if my chosen men accompanied you tonight.”
The Shadow voiced a statement in Chinese. Yat Soon smiled blandly. “You have spoken wisely, Ying Ko,” commended the arbiter. “You have said that where danger lurks, one may venture what many would not dare. I shall order my men to depart at dusk. The trap will remain unwatched.
“Enemies will then be seized by doubt. Impatient, they may reveal themselves before you arrive. Unless the enemy is Ku-Nuan alone. In that case, the absence of others will prove the fact.”
The Shadow had risen. Yat Soon stood up and bowed.
“I had forgotten that you must be elsewhere,” declared Yat Soon. “We have spoken all that must be said. More words would delay your present mission.”
THE SHADOW departed through the labyrinth of passages. Reaching the darkened street that led to Chinatown, he moved away, enshrouded in gathering dusk. Beneath an elevated railway, where gloom had come early, The Shadow boarded a taxicab and spoke an order to the driver.
Cutting across Manhattan, the cab reached the water front along the Hudson River. Here, buildings no longer blocked the afterglow that came from beyond the New Jersey hills. Though lights were glimmering from cars and street lamps, there were sufficient rays of sunset to reveal the face at the rear window of the cab.
The Shadow had removed his garb of black. He was wearing the guise in which he had visited Major Rowden the quiet, pleasant features of Henry Arnaud.
The cab wheeled to a stop beside a steamship pier. The Shadow alighted and watched a liner as it warped into the dock. A gangplank dropped; passengers streamed into view, to be met by customs officers who stood beneath the pier lights.
The ship was from Bermuda. Customs formalities would be short. The Shadow watched a small group of persons whose baggage was being examined beneath a huge placard that bore the letter “F.” He saw a portly, round-faced man who was joking with a customs officer. He was the one who answered The Shadow’s pictured description of George Furbish.
Soon a hand truck came lumbering from the pier, pushed by a dock attendant. It held two suitcases and a steamer trunk. Furbish accompanied the truck; he ordered it to the baggage room. As he stood by the counter, Furbish heard a voice speak his name. He turned about, surprised; he saw the disguised features of The Shadow.
“My name is Arnaud.” The Shadow extended a hand as he spoke. Then, in an undertone, he added: “I come from Major Rowden.”
Furbish nodded, alert, quietly, The Shadow ordered:
“Leave your baggage here. Come with me.”
Trustfully, Furbish followed The Shadow to the
cab. They entered; The Shadow spoke an order in Arnaud’s tone to the driver. As they rode along, The Shadow made inquiry.
“Tell me about the money. Is it available, so that you can complete your transaction tonight?”
Furbish nodded. Unsuspecting that his life had been in danger, he was quite willing to trust the emissary from Rowden. It seemed quite natural that the major should have sent some one to meet him at the pier.
“I have the money at my bank,” he stated. “It is in a safe deposit box; the vaults are available until nine o’clock. Does Major Rowden wish to make the sale tonight?”
“Possibly,” replied The Shadow. “That, however, depends upon certain circumstances. Suppose we dine together, Mr. Furbish. After that, you can obtain the funds.”
THE cab arrived at a secluded restaurant. During dinner, Furbish became more and more impressed by his new friend, Arnaud. It was when they had finished the meal that The Shadow quietly broached the matter of danger.
“Two nights ago,” he stated, quietly, “an assassin sought your life at the Royal Arms, thinking that you would have the funds there with you.”
Furbish gaped; then exclaimed: “But I was not at the Royal Arms!”
“I was there,” returned The Shadow, with a slight smile. “I thwarted the attempt. Your enemies have decided to cover the Maribar Hotel, expecting your arrival there.”
“Then if I go there tonight -”
“You will be protected. You must, however, follow instructions as I give them.”
Furbish nodded his agreement. Reflecting, he decided that if this new friend could have thwarted a killer at the Royal Arms, he could certainly provide protection at the Maribar Hotel.
“A cab waits you outside this restaurant,” explained The Shadow. “Take it. Go to your bank and obtain the quarter million dollars that you placed in safe deposit.”
The Shadow’s statement of the exact amount added to Furbish’s confidence. The Wall Street man believed that only Major Rowden could have informed The Shadow of those details. Furbish had no idea that his enemies, mentioned by The Shadow, were governed by so well-informed a man as Kenneth Malfort. Furbish, like Blessingdale and Hessup, had never heard of the master crook.
“The same cab will take you to a place near the Maribar Hotel,” resumed The Shadow. “Wait there, inside the cab, until the driver decides to go to the hotel. He will be informed if the trip is safe.
“Should the way be clear, stay no longer than fifteen minutes. Major Rowden will have your jewels ready. Take the gems; leave the money with him. Outside the Maribar Hotel, the same cab will be waiting for you.”
The Shadow arose and motioned. Furbish joined him; they left the restaurant together. Outside, they found the waiting cab. Furbish did not recognize it as the taxi that had been at the pier.
“When you see Major Rowden,” added The Shadow, “deliver him this envelope. Tell him that he can read it after you have gone.”
The Shadow opened the door of the cab and put Furbish aboard. Stepping back, he lifted a small bag that the driver had placed upon the rear bumper. The cab pulled away.
As Arnaud, The Shadow watched it turn a corner. He strolled along the street, picked a chance cab of his own. Entering, he gave the driver a destination. Opening the bag, The Shadow produced his black garments and his automatics.
Fifteen minutes was the time that The Shadow had allotted should Furbish actually visit Rowden. There was good reason for the specified time interval. From Yat Soon, The Shadow had learned the exact location of the courtyard where Ku-Nuan had last been seen. He had estimated that it was just fifteen minutes’ drive from the Maribar Hotel.
THE SHADOW’S chance cab reached its destination, less than two blocks from the courtyard that the Chinese had inspected. A five-dollar bill fluttered down beside the driver. A quiet voice ordered him to keep the change.
While the driver gulped his thanks, the rear door closed noiselessly. Looking along the street, the cabby could see no sign of his mysterious passenger. Cloaked in black, The Shadow had vanished like a ghost.
The disappearance was a logical one. This was a grimy, almost forgotten section of the East Side, where lights were few and lurking spots were many. Black against shaded, dingy walls, The Shadow was pursuing an invisible course through the night. Unseen, he neared his goal, the space between the warehouses, indicated by an arrow on two separate diagrams. Both Malfort and Yat Soon had picked one passage as the logical entrance to the courtyard.
Thick blackness covered the space between the passage walls. Stopping at the entrance, The Shadow looked across the street, then along toward a corner. He knew that there were lurking spots all about; that such a thuggish leader as Spark Ganza and his men might be on hand. But if they were to prove active, they would logically have become impatient through long delay. The Shadow watched for blinks of flashlights; listened for whispered voices and sneaky footsteps.
There were no tokens in the darkness. Soundlessly, The Shadow edged into the passage. After five silent paces, he came to a tunnel formed by the connection of the walls on either side. The Shadow paused to listen. If men were in the courtyard, their slightest whispers would echo through the roofed passage. Minutes passed; no sounds came. The Shadow was sure that the courtyard was empty.
Advancing with soundless paces, The Shadow moved steadily inward. His course was established; his progress would not cease until he reached the courtyard, there to match his wits against the craft of Ku-Nuan, whom he expected to find alone.
Wisely had Yat Soon suspected a trap; but the Chinaman’s searchers had failed to detect its presence. In the darkness, the first black beam crossed The Shadow’s path. Even the keen discernment of this master sleuth could not detect its presence.
Silence and blackness lured The Shadow onward. Nothing could withhold him from the final snare that Kenneth Malfort had provided.
CHAPTER XI – HANDS IN THE DARK
AT the inner end of the tunnel, The Shadow made final pause. Before him was the solid darkness of the courtyard. Nothing was visible within its depths, not even the grayishness of walls. There was light above, a glow that showed dim against a clouded sky; but none of the city’s reflected glimmer penetrated into the courtyard itself.
To The Shadow, however, the exact layout of the courtyard was established. He had memorized the dimensions that Yat Soon had given him. The Shadow could gauge distance perfectly in the dark.
He knew just the number of paces that he would have to take to reach the opposite side of the courtyard. Placed anywhere within the blackened depths, he could find a lesser passage without groping his way. The Shadow needed no light to find his way about the courtyard.
There were facts however that The Shadow did not know.
He had no inkling that he had passed a hidden grating, hoisted above the mouth of the tunnel that he had entered. He was unaware that, at this present moment, he had reached an invisible beam of black light that formed a shaft across the inner end of the tunnel.
Satisfied that the courtyard was vacant, The Shadow moved forward.
Instantly he halted; wheeled about. A sliding sound had come to his ears. As The Shadow turned, a clang resounded from the outer end of the short tunnel. The first of the heavy gratings had clashed downward into place.
The Shadow moved back through the tunnel. He reached the heavy gate, gripped its bars and shook them. The barrier clanked. Its solidity, however, was definite. No human hands could overcome that barrier. Its weight was fully a quarter ton. Though he strained a shoulder beneath a cross-bar, The Shadow could not budge the barrier upward.
Turning about, The Shadow moved through to the courtyard. He knew that he was trapped; but he wanted to investigate fully the other outlets. Crossing the courtyard silent and unseen, The Shadow changed his course and reached a side passage. It formed a tunnel like the first.
The instant that The Shadow passed the inner end of the tunnel, another clang rang out from a dozen feet ahead. The Sh
adow came to a new barrier, as heavy as the first. It, too, failed to yield when he shook the bars and wedged a shoulder between them.
Returning to the courtyard, The Shadow went through to the third passage. His experience here was like the former two. The invisible beam dropped its blocking barrier. Once more, The Shadow pounded upon a solid gate.
Slowly, The Shadow returned to the courtyard. There was one more passage. It was the one at the far side of the courtyard, just past the wall of the old pawnshop. The Shadow knew that it would certainly have a ready barrier. Once he attempted that last passage, a fourth gate would fall to make the snare complete. Shrouded in the darkness of the courtyard, The Shadow paused to consider his plight.
SILENCE was complete. No enemies were approaching the closed barriers. That was a fact that demanded consideration. The Shadow pictured the answer.
Those barriers were not solid. They were gates instead of doors. That signified a purpose. It meant that The Shadow, trapped, could be reached by gunfire through the bars. The gates had clanged loudly. Outside listeners could have heard them. Coupled facts explained Malfort’s scheme.
Crooks were waiting for the fourth barrier to drop. Then they would come to the mouths of the short tunnels. The passages, slightly off-center, would allow each group to cover one-fourth of the courtyard. Once searchlights shone from steel gratings, The Shadow would be a visible prey.
No corner of the courtyard would be safe. Even now, if crooks chose to appear, they would have The Shadow trapped. If he tried to rush the fourth passage, the grating would fall before he reached it. Crooks, however, were waiting for the situation to be complete. They knew that their foe was The Shadow. They wanted him to realize his absolute helplessness before they attacked. Nevertheless, they would not curb their impatience long.
The Shadow knew that his enemies would be equipped with submachine guns. He realized that so far as the gunners were concerned, he had absolutely no chance. If he thinned the ranks of the foe, reserves would take their place. If need be, the entire underworld would be summoned. The Shadow, arch-enemy of crime, was trapped; that word, once passed, would bring every skulking crook in New York. Hundreds would gloat at the chance of being present at the kill.
The Man From Shanghai Page 7
