The Hand s-150

by Maxwell Grant

  were sounding everywhere. The Shadow's agents found themselves confronted with a

  difficult task, for they had to make their own departure and carry Maude with them.

  They were aided, though, by shots that took the police in the wrong direction. The Shadow had provided those shots, knowing that they would draw the officers away. By the time the police reached the spot where the shots had been fired, The Shadow was gone.

  Two blocks away, a pair of The Shadow's agents crept through the darkness,

  taking Maude with them. The girl had recovered her wits; she supposed that these

  men were two of Pinkey's followers. They reached the street, to hear the sound of a police siren. Maude shrank back.

  One of the men nudged the girl, pointing to a limousine parked near the curb. Maude nodded, then made dash for it. She reached the limousine and climbed hurriedly aboard. The chauffeur didn't notice her; he was looking across the street aboard toward a little cigar store.

  A tall man strode from the store and entered the limousine. He spoke quietly through the speaking tube; the big car started forward. Then, lighting a cigarette, the owner of the limousine turned to look beside him. For the first time, apparently, he noticed Maude.

  The girl became breathless. She felt she could trust this calm-faced stranger whose well-tailored evening clothes gave him the mark of a gentleman.

  Maude gripped the man's arm.

  "You've got to trust me," she pleaded. "Honest - I'm on the level! My name

  is Maude Revelle. I was in The Hayrick, when a lot of shooting started."

  "I am quite pleased to know you, Miss Revelle," returned the owner of the limousine. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Lamont Cranston. You are quite welcome to share my limousine" - he broke off, suddenly, to utter through the speaking tube, "Come, Stanley!... What is the delay?"

  The big car had jolted to a stop. Stanley didn't have to explain why. A heavy-jowled patrolman was opening the door, to poke a flashlight inside.

  "What is the trouble, officer?"

  Cranston's quiet query brought the flashlight in his own direction. The cop mumbled that there had been a riot; that they were looking for a girl who had helped start it. He turned the flashlight toward Maude; eyed her suspiciously as she shrank away.

  "Don't be frightened, Maude," soothed Cranston. He tendered a card to the patrolman. "My name is Lamont Cranston. I am a friend of Police Commissioner Weston."

  "And this lady?"

  "She is Miss Maude Revelle. Please do not delay us, officer. You see these

  tickets?" Cranston held them in the light. "I am taking Miss Revelle to the opera, and we are anxious to reach there before curtain time."

  A MINUTE later, the limousine was rolling clear of the police cordon.

  Maude's big eyes were full of admiration, as they turned toward Cranston.

  "Gee, you're swell!" exclaimed the girl. "Helping me out of a jam, the way

  you did! Maybe I'd be a lot better off if I'd met up with real guys like you, instead of some of the mugs I've known."

  Cranston's gaze showed a sympathetic interest that caused Maude to say more.

  "I tried to help a fellow out tonight" - Maude's tone was bitter; she was thinking of Pinkey - "and he left me to scramble for myself. Maybe he's a right

  guy, but he's in the wrong racket, whatever it is. Only, I'm not the sort that blabs."

  The car stopped at a traffic light. Maude reached for the door, intending to alight. Cranston's hand restrained her; his voice was persuasive.

  "I told the officers that I was taking you to the opera. I might have to prove that story."

  Maude settled back in the cushions her eyes were eager.

  "You mean that?" she exclaimed. "You'll take me to the opera with all the other swells?"

  The Shadow nodded. The limousine rolled ahead; Maude felt herself riding in air. She didn't realize that keen eyes were watching her, grasping the thoughts that she betrayed by her facial expressions.

  Maude was getting something that she really wanted: a chance to appear among fashionable people, as one of them. She wasn't a selfish sort; but the joy of that triumph made her so, for the present. She wanted to feel that Cranston had invited her to the opera because he liked her.

  Maude made that plain, as they stepped from the limousine in front of the opera.

  "If I go with you," she remarked, "I won't be cutting out someone else, will I?"

  From her tone, The Shadow knew that Maude hoped she was doing just that.

  He gave the slight smile that was typical of Cranston.

  "I was to meet a lady here," he said, "but she can go with other friends, who asked her to join their party. I would prefer your company, Miss Revelle."

  "Do you see this lady you're telling me about?"

  "Yes. Over there."

  The girl that The Shadow pointed out was the most attractive young woman in sight; and that was quite a distinction, for the lobby thronged with beautiful femininity. She was waiting for someone, and it could very well have been Cranston. Maude certainly thought that it was Cranston.

  Penning a note, The Shadow showed it to Maude. She was pleased when she read: "Sorry, Eleanor. I am escorting another lady this evening: Lamont."

  Folding the note, The Shadow gave it to an attendant. Adding a dollar bill

  as tip, he pointed out the lady to whom the note was to be delivered. Maude saw

  all that; what she didn't observe was the note itself.

  The Shadow held it loosely, so that air reached the drying ink. The message faded before he gave it a final fold. The Shadow had used the special ink that he employed when sending orders to his agents.

  The girl across the lobby looked puzzled when she opened the message. For a moment, her gaze became as blank as the paper itself. Then, supposing that someone had played a practical joke, she crumpled the paper and threw it away, staring about angrily as she did so.

  By that time The Shadow was escorting Maude into the opera house. Maude had seen the other girl's piqued expression, and it had pleased her. Maude was smiling triumphantly when she and her escort reached the Golden Horseshoe.

  When the opera house lights went down, The Shadow indulged in a smile of his own. Unlike Pinkey Findlen, The Shadow knew the ways of women. He would use

  his acquaintance with Maude Revelle in the future.

  Tonight, though Maude did not guess it, she had become an ally of The Shadow in his campaign against crime.

  CHAPTER IX

  MOVES THROUGH THE DARK

  THE next evening, Maude Revelle dined with Lamont Cranston in a little restaurant off Fifth Avenue. The place was both quiet and exclusive; the type of cafe where Maude had often wanted Pinkey to take her, only to have him claim

  that "ritzy joints" were the bunk.

  Being with Cranston improved Maude's style. She liked his perfect manner, his excellent usage of the English language. She did her best to copy it, with very good results.

  There were times, though, when she lapsed. Those came when she referred to

  the boy "friend" who had deserted her the night before.

  Maude knew plenty about Pinkey; but there was much that she wouldn't tell.

  She would have been amazed, though, had she realized how much Cranston learned from the remarks that she dropped. Among that well-gleaned information, The Shadow obtained two important points.

  One was that Maude did not know what Pinkey's present racket was. The other was that she had no idea as to the location of Pinkey's present hide-out.

  "He's supposed to be on the lam, if you know what I mean," confided Maude.

  "In other words, he's had to put himself where the police won't find him. But it

  wasn't on account of what he did. I guess he covered that pretty good.

  "It's what he's up to, that makes him stay out of sight. He doesn't want to be seen around town, for fear they'll ask him down to headquarters. If he spends his time answering a
lot of questions, they might wise up to what he's doing now."

  Cranston smiled, as though amused by the adventures of Maude's boy friend.

  His gaze, however, made Maude feel that he did not approve of Pinkey.

  "I'm dropping the guy," declared Maude. "But I can't do it in a hurry.

  His

  kind wouldn't understand it. Give him time. He'll get an interest in some other

  dame. Then I can step out of the picture without an argument."

  WHEN the conversation again turned to Pinkey, Maude remembered that she was supposed to telephone him. There was a booth in the hallway outside, the little room where she and Cranston were dining privately. Maude decided to make

  the call.

  Hardly had she stepped from the room, before The Shadow reached beneath the table and drew out a single earphone. Placing it to his ear, he heard the plunk of Maude's nickel when she placed it in the pay box. This wire was connected with the telephone booth. From Maude's first words, The Shadow learned that she had called the Bubble Club and was talking to Claude Ondrey.

  Pinkey wasn't there; but he was expected by ten o'clock.

  "Ten o'clock is when I'll call him," announced Maude. "Yes. Tell him I'll be at the apartment, if you hear from him before then... Yes, and listen, Ondrey. You can tell him that he's going to find out where he gets off..."

  "Sure, I'm sore... Yes, Pinkey knows why... You want to know where I am right now? Out with a swell guy, who took me to the opera last night..."

  There was a pause, while Ondrey spoke a piece; then came Maude's sharp laugh.

  "I'm not telling you who the guy is," she said. "I don't spill Pinkey's name to anybody, do I?... All right, it works two ways. I'm keeping this fellow's name to myself... Sure, tell Pinkey if you like..."

  The earphone was parked from sight when Maude returned to the little dining room. They had dined late; Maude was suddenly surprised to notice that her wrist watch said half past nine. She didn't realize that she looked at the watch, because Cranston's gaze had been idly resting in the direction of her hands and arms.

  "I've got to go back to the apartment," decided Maude. "Don't worry about taking me there, Mr. Cranston. I can go alone." Cranston wouldn't allow that; but he finally agreed to ride by subway, instead of taking the limousine. It was when they came up from the subway, a block from Maude's apartment, that the

  girl expressed real alarm.

  "You mustn't come farther," she insisted. "It - well, it mightn't be safe!"

  "Not safe?" interposed Cranston. "If this neighborhood is as dangerous as all that, I certainly cannot allow you to go the rest of the way alone."

  Maude tightened her attractive lips. Her hand gripped Cranston's arm, with

  the sincere clutch, that her fingers had displayed the night before.

  "The boy friend's jealous," she declared. "He knows I've met you; that is,

  somebody may have told him. But I didn't say who you were. That's why I didn't want you to bring your car.

  "And the same goes for you, Mr. Cranston. Maybe Pink - I mean, maybe this guy that thinks he's got a corner on me, will be tough enough to have a couple of gorillas around here. By 'gorillas', I don't mean monkeys from the zoo. I mean sluggers!"

  CRANSTON chuckled. Then he took Maude's arm and started her in the direction of the apartment house, ignoring the girls continued protests.

  Maude's argument persisted. She became watchful, particularly when they passed the side door of the apartment house. It was dark along that portion of the street, especially in the service alley. Maude feared that there were lurkers present.

  She was right. Two figures were crouched in waiting. When Maude and Cranston had passed, the pair exchanged growls. They decided they'd get Cranston on the way back.

  "That's what Bugs told us," argued one. "He says to let the dame get upstairs, so she won't know what happened. Then we can handle this stuffed shirt."

  "Suppose he don't come back right away?" queried the other. "Whatta we do?

  Wait here, maybe all night?"

  "Don't worry. He'll, be back. We gotta keep an eye peeled, though, to see he don't hop no cab."

  The apartment house was an old one, with a large, but deserted, foyer. As he conducted Maude toward the elevator, The Shadow spoke in a lower tone than usual, but in Cranston's style.

  "Go to the side door," he told her. "Wait there, and watch what happens in

  the street."

  Maude's eyes were wide, startled. But when Cranston turned and strode out through the front, she could do nothing but obey his instructions.

  What Maude witnessed a few minutes later, was something that left her even

  more astounded.

  She saw Cranston come along the side street, pausing to look over his shoulder for a cab. He spotted one coming from a few blocks away; but instead of halting, he did the one thing that Maude feared. He stepped deliberately toward the darkness of the service entrance.

  Husky shapes launched from the gloom. Maude gave a scream; tried to yank open the heavy side door. She wouldn't have reached Cranston in time to warn him; but it wasn't necessary.

  A sweatered arm swung toward Cranston's head; the fist at the end of it tried to sap him with a blackjack. That arm stopped short as Cranston's hand clamped it. Whipping back into the light, he flayed the thug with a terrific forward heave; then snapped the rowdy all about.

  Lashed like a human whip, the husky took a long dive toward the curb. The Shadow had chosen the right direction for the fling, for he had pointed the fellow for a suitable target: a large fire plug.

  The thug rammed that metal object with his skull. The quick reverse of The

  Shadow's swing served an additional purpose. It took him from the path of a second attacker, who was wielding a chunk of lead pipe. The fellow took a swing

  at Cranston, only to miss him by a foot and a half. He didn't have a chance to try another wallop.

  Spinning in, The Shadow took a square punch at the footpad's chin. The jolt lifted the slugger off his feet; his head went back with a terrific snap.

  He didn't have far to travel, for he was almost against the wall.

  Maude yanked the door wide just in time to hear the impact of the second rowdy's skull against the side of the apartment house.

  IT had all happened with such suddenness, that Maude hadn't judged the rapidity of Cranston's action. She saw him smoothing his clothes in leisurely fashion, as if he had scarcely exerted himself. Stepping to the curb, he waved to the approaching cab.

  By the time the taxi stopped, Maude saw Cranston lifting the two limp thugs, a hand clamped tight to the sweatered neck of each. He bundled the pair into the cab. Opening a wallet, he extracted a five-dollar bill from it.

  "Drop them somewhere in Central Park," he told the driver, "and keep the change. They'll be more comfortable sleeping it off in the open, than they would be in the alley."

  "A couple of drunks, huh?" grunted the driver, "Well, suit yourself.

  You've said it with five bucks, mister, and that clinches it." As the cab wheeled away, The Shadow joined Maude in the apartment house. Her admiration for Cranston had received another boost. He rode up with her in the elevator, while she expressed her enthusiasm.

  Outside Maude's apartment, Cranston spoke a quiet good-by; then paused long enough to smoke a cigarette, while Maude continued to relate her recollections of the fight.

  "Say!" she exclaimed. "The way that bird hit the fire plug! You'd have thought that was what it had been put there for! And when you handled the other

  guy, I thought the wall wouldn't stand the strain. I'm going to take a look at the bricks tomorrow, just to see -"

  A telephone bell began to ring. It was in Maude's apartment. Cranston said

  good-night again, and turned toward the elevator. He heard the apartment door go

  shut and stepped back quickly to listen in on Maude's conversation.

  Through the thin door, every word was pla
in.

  "Oh, hello, Pinkey." Maude's tone was scornful. "So you called the Bubble Club. Couldn't wait, could you, to find out if anything happened here?...

  Listen, if my new friend is a creampuff, they mixed in TNT when they made him."

  "Those gorillas of yours looked like baboons when he was through with them! He used jujitsu stuff, and how it worked!... Get this, Pinkey. If you want to keep in good with me, don't try any more rough stuff on my friends..."

  "You won't see me tonight? That doesn't bother me. Go on over to the Bubble Club, since you have to. Maybe you'll get some sympathy from old Baldy Ondrey."

  When Maude hung up, she looked out into the hall, hoping that Cranston had

  not yet gone. The hall was empty. Maude was disappointed. Since she didn't expect to see Pinkey, she would have liked to go out with Cranston. It didn't occur to Maude that since Pinkey had business at the Bubble Club, Cranston would have reason to be there also.

  The Shadow had learned that a conference of crooks was due. When Pinkey and his pals discussed their next plans, they would be favored with the presence of an unseen listener.

  He would be The Shadow.

  CHAPTER X

  CRIME'S CONFERENCE

  When The Shadow reached the old residence that housed the Bubble Club, he went directly to the roof above the secret elevator. The trapdoor was tightly fixed; but it didn't take The Shadow long to jimmy it.

  His method of persuasion was both efficient and noiseless; and the latter factor was important. While The Shadow was at work, he heard faint sounds of the elevator making a descent.

  That meant that Pinkey Findlen had arrived to hold conference, in Ondrey's

  office.

  The elevator was at the bottom of the shaft when the trapdoor came free.

  The taut cable offered a means of rapid descent. Hand under hand, The Shadow went downward, until he found a resting place upon the solid top of the elevator.

  On his previous visit to Ondrey's office, The Shadow had observed that the

  wall panel was slightly higher than the elevator. Reaching from the top of the car, he probed in front of it, until he found a catch. The panel was released; but The Shadow did not spread its sections.

  Instead, he was content with a mere quarter inch of space, that enabled him to peer into the office and overhear what passed there.