The Hand s-150

by Maxwell Grant

"You do?" blurted Maude. "Would you trust me to do that, Beth? After only meeting me once?"

  "Certainly! One meeting is enough."

  "Gee, you're swell!"

  "Why not open the envelope?" asked Beth. "It seems to have brought up your

  problem. Perhaps it will solve it."

  Maude didn't think it would, but she did not say so. She decided to do as Beth suggested. Maude needed a few minutes to get the choke out of her voice.

  Beth left her; a few moments later, Maude was reading Cranston's message.

  Maude's eyes were a bit tear-dimmed. She couldn't believe the words that blurred in front of her. When she had wiped her eyes; she read them again.

  They

  were amazing; but real. They were so utterly incredible that Maude stood motionless.

  SLOWLY, Maude came to life, a grim smile showing on her face. She crumpled

  the message, not observing that its words were fading from view. Hurrying out to

  a little hallway, she reached the telephone.

  She called the Bubble Club. Ondrey answered, his voice impatient, worried.

  He'd had three calls from Pinkey; the big-shot was still awaiting news from Maude.

  "Tell him to keep his shirt on!" snapped Maude. "Here's the dope he wants.

  The dame is leaving here in about ten minutes. She's driving a roadster, and she's going to be alone. Here - take down the license number."

  Ondrey recorded he number as Maude gave it.

  "When she gets into town," added Maude, "she'll leave the car in a parking

  lot on Sixtieth Street, right next to the old Zenith Apartments. From there, she

  always takes a cab. So it ought to be easy to grab her.

  "But remember: Tell Pinkey there's to be no rough stuff. He's not going to

  know where I am, tonight, and if I hear that this dame gets hurt, it's going to

  go bad with Pinkey! He and I made a deal; tell him to remember it."

  A few minutes later, Maude was on her way to the front door, wearing her hat and coat. Beth met her, asked if she intended to go into New York.

  "You can come with me, Maude," suggested Beth. "I'm leaving in just a few minutes."

  "Thanks, Beth," returned Maude, "But I can't wait. Not even one minute."

  Maude's smile told much to Beth, even though it didn't give the details.

  Beth's tone was sweet softly:

  "The message solved everything?"

  Maude nodded, happily. She gave Beth's hand a squeeze, then hurried out into the darkness.

  MEANWHILE, Maude's message had reached its destination. In the hide-out, Pinkey repeated the details to Slick and Bugs, chiefly for the latter's benefit.

  "It's your job, Bugs," said Pinkey. "Get up there to the parking lot and grab that doll in a hurry. And remember: no rough stuff. We ain't taking chances on Maude making trouble.

  "Take the dame down to Ondrey's. Let him look out for her. The office is a

  good place for him to keep her; and Ondrey has enough sense to make her know we

  won't hurt her.

  "Tell him to give her a feed, if she's hungry; and if he hears from Maude,

  to let her know that everything's being done in style. Dames are soft to handle,

  if you kid 'em right."

  Bugs left the hideout. There was a thug in the hall; he growled for the fellow to come along. Pinkey and Slick heard the hoodlum follow him. A few minutes later, Pinkey and Slick stole out of the lair.

  On their way through the alley, Pinkey undertoned remarks regarding their next step.

  "We'll handle it together," he declared. "Only, this time, I'll spill my real moniker; but you're still Bill Quaine. The more we tell old Jondran, the better, provided we keep that part of the story straight."

  They had neared a parked car. Slick gave a sudden shift; a quick exclamation.

  "What's up?" snapped Pinkey.

  Slick turned a flashlight toward a wall beside the alley. The glow showed nothing more than bricks.

  "It was like some guy nudged me!"

  "There's nobody here," rasped Pinkey. "Better take a look around, though.

  There's one guy we don't want to meet. That's The Shadow!"

  Pinkey was stepping toward the car when Slick flashed the light back into the alleyway. He saw something; made a pounce. Pinkey scrambled from the car in

  time to hear the thud of a slugging gun; the clatter of a person in the alley.

  Pinkey's oval flashlight beamed; his gun was leveled, but he lowered it a moment later when he saw the face of Slick Thurley. Stepping out to meet the big-shot, Slick beckoned.

  "Douse your glim, Pinkey," suggested Slick. "We won't need it. I fixed the

  snooper!"

  Slick led the way back, turning his flashlight on a huddled man whose hat was bashed over his eyes. The fellow lay face downward, his shoulders so hunched that Slick found it difficult to turn the flashlight on his features.

  Even then, he managed only a partial view of the man's profile; and Pinkey

  saw no more than the fellow's chin.

  "He ain't The Shadow," assured Slick. "Maybe he's some snooper The Shadow sent here; but even that ain't likely. I'd say he was just a guy that showed up

  where he wasn't wanted."

  "Yeah," agreed Pinkey. "He probably saw Bugs and the crew sneaking out of here, and thought he'd find out where they came from. Leave him lay, Slick.

  We're in a hurry. What's more, we're never coming back to this hide-out.

  A FEW minutes after Pinkey and his companion had driven away, there was a stir from the inner reaches of the alley. A flashlight glimmered; the tiny torch was The Shadow's. The beam reached the slugged man who lay in the alley

  -

  a relic of the brief fight staged by Slick Thurley.

  The huddled form was senseless. Who the man was; how he had come here, were questions that did not seem to trouble The Shadow. He simply extinguished his flashlight, lifted the victim from the cobblestones and carried the man across his shoulder.

  Soft mockery came from The Shadow lips, as he lugged the senseless burden from the alleyway. That tone was edged with prophecy - one that crooks would not have liked, if they had heard it.

  Both Pinkey Findlen and Slick Thurley were later to regret this brief episode in which they had figured.

  The Shadow knew!

  CHAPTER XVIII

  CRIME'S CAPTIVE

  THE first stop on Pinkey's route was the Bubble Club; and for a very important reason. Ondrey was in the office; he looked pleased when he saw Pinkey and Slick step from the elevator. Ondrey started at once to open the safe, while Pinkey made a suggestion:

  "Take a gander outside, Slick. See if there's any phonies in the night club. Don't show yourself much. We don't want any guys saying they saw Bill Quaine here."

  Ondrey's safe bulged with swag from previous crimes, for this was where crooks stored their profits. Whenever Ondrey opened it in Pinkey's presence, he

  always let the big-shot see him handle the combination.

  That was one reason why Pinkey had sent Slick out to look around. But there were eyes, tonight, that saw Ondrey manipulate the dial; other eyes than those of Pinkey Findlen. The Shadow was atop the elevator, watching through the

  panel.

  Ondrey produced two envelopes; both were opened. Pinkey was going over the

  contents, when he saw Slick return. He showed the envelopes to the man who looked like Bill Quaine.

  "This is the one we keep," said Pinkey. "The other, with the mark on it, goes to Jondran."

  Slick nodded. Then: "You're going to let me handle them?"

  "Sure thing," returned Pinkey. "You're supposed to be the copper, ain't you? All right, let's go."

  They were starting for the elevator when Ondrey said something about Bugs Hopton. Pinkey stroked his chin. "We'll wait a couple of minutes," decided Pinkey, "just in case we hear from Bugs."

  Slick stood half in the
elevator, so close, that The Shadow could have reached down to touch him. Pinkey remained chatting with Ondrey. A few minutes passed; impatient, Pinkey decided to get started, when the phone bell tingled.

  It was Bugs. Ondrey turned the telephone over to Pinkey.

  "It was a pipe!" Pinkey heard Bugs declare, eagerly. "The moll didn't even

  know what it was about! The guy in the parking lot had gone across the street to

  get a sandwich; so we just grabbed the skirt and shoved her into our own bus."

  "Where's the car now?" demanded Pinkey.

  "Our bus?" questioned Bugs. "A couple of blocks away, outside the store where I'm phoning from. We left the moll's fancy boat up in the parking lot."

  "That part wasn't smart. Never mind, though. We can cover it later. Get her down here in a hurry."

  Pinkey told the others how Bugs had made out; but he added that he and Slick weren't going to wait for Beth's arrival. Pinkey summed it with the comment:

  "You can handle the soft soap, Ondrey. Me and Slick are the guys that will

  use the heat. Only, we're working on the old man."

  WHEN the pair had gone, Ondrey went out for a look around the night club.

  He wasn't trusting Slick's report, that all had been well there. But Ondrey came back, smiling broadly.

  Though there were a good many strangers present, all looked to be the sort

  who were out for a good time. None of them appeared to be headquarters men; or the sort of snoopers that Ondrey fancied would serve The Shadow.

  Fifteen minutes later, the elevator panel slid open. Ondrey turned to see Bugs Hopton and two thugs bringing in a muffled burden. The prisoner hadn't put

  up a battle, but the rough mob had not handled her too gently.

  Her head was muffled in a piece of cloth that looked like a sack. The crooks had ripped away a portion of her dress, to bind her hands and feet.

  When

  they rolled her on a couch in the corner, Ondrey raised an objection.

  "That isn't the way you were to handle her," he told Bugs. "I thought you said she didn't put up a fight."

  "That's right," agreed Bugs. "But we wanted to see to it that she didn't change her mind. Dolls are that way, you know."

  "This girl is limp!" declared Ondrey worried. "Cut her loose, and do it easy. Get that bag off her head. What was the idea of it, anyway?"

  "So she wouldn't see where we were taking her," informed Bugs. "We gagged her first, though."

  Ondrey spread his arms in anxiety. He was relieved when he saw the prisoner stir while Bugs was freeing her. The hood came away; but still Ondrey didn't see the girls face, for Bugs was busy removing the handkerchief that gagged her. A moment later, the girl had sagged back upon the couch.

  Ondrey pressed forward; he was speaking in his most ingratiating tone:

  "I am terribly sorry about this, Miss Jondran. These men were ordered to treat you gently -"

  "Cut the stall, Ondrey!" The girl's tone gave harsh interruption, as she swung up from the couch. "Get over there by the desk and raise your mitts! The same goes for the rest of you!"

  With the start of that order, the captive tossed her head. Beneath a mass of tousled blond hair, Ondrey saw a face he recognized. This prisoner wasn't Beth Jondran; she was Maude Revelle!

  Maude's direct face meant business. In her hand she held a gun, that she had whipped from within her dress. She had caught Bugs and his mobbies totally off guard, along with Ondrey. Not one of the three thugs had a gun where he could reach it.

  "Pinkey thinks he's a wise guy." Maude's tone was loud; Ondrey was afraid it would penetrate to the hall outside the office. "That's why he never introduced me to any of his pals, except you, Ondrey.

  "He said he was going to treat the dame right; so to make sure about it, I

  grabbed her car myself. Well, look at the way I am. Were these gorillas gentle?

  I'll say they weren't! They were dumb, though; too dumb to frisk me.

  "That's why they didn't find this gat that I picked up in the car. And guess who told me to run off with that roadster. The same guy that left the gun

  for me! The one real guy I've ever met. The Shadow!"

  The name brought a hoarse cry from Ondrey. His alarm spread to Bugs and the thugs. It was Bugs who decided to rely on force of numbers. He urged his two pals with the hoarse shout:

  "Grab the dame! She won't shoot!"

  Mobsters never made that surge. The door of the office flung inward.

  Across the threshold came three men: Harry Vincent, followed by two other agents of The Shadow. Their guns had the crooks covered.

  Settling behind his desk, Ondrey recognized the faces of the invaders.

  All

  of them had been seated at a table near the passage to the office. Maude had known that they would be ready. That was why she had given her shrill denunciation of the crooks.

  The Shadow's agents bound the prisoners, all except Ondrey. Maude kept the

  night club owner covered with a gun.

  "I was going to bawl you out for crossing the dope," she told him, "but that wasn't needed. I didn't have to argue that there had been a mistake. I saw

  my chance to cover the lot of you, and I took it."

  There was a ring from the telephone. Maude ordered Ondrey to answer, and talk sweet. He did his best; then gulped that he didn't know the voice on the wire. It was a quiet voice, he said; but no name had been announced.

  Harry Vincent took the telephone abruptly, to speak with Burbank. He made notations during that brief conversation. Hanging up, he strode across the office and dialed the combination of Ondrey's safe.

  Ondrey sat riveted with amazement. Maude's voice came to his ears.

  "The Shadow knows everything, don't he?" queried the girl. "So this is where Pinkey kept his swag! Well, its going back to the people it belongs to.

  But not for a while, yet.

  "We're staying right here, Ondrey, in case Pinkey calls. If he does, you tell him that you've got Beth Jondran as a prisoner. We wouldn't want to queer the rest of Pinkey's game, would we?"

  NUMBLY, Claude Ondrey slumped deep in his chair. The sarcasm in Maude's voice had told him further details of The Shadow's scheme. Pinkey was going through with his present game; but it wasn't going to work out the way the big-shot expected. The whole setup had been turned in The Shadow's favor.

  But there was one point that even Ondrey didn't realize. That was the method whereby The Shadow had arranged to turn the tables on Pinkey Findlen, in

  the midst of the big-shots coming action.

  If The Shadow's plan went well, Pinkey would actually feel the thrill of victory, only to have it wrenched from his grasp. For The Shadow was counting upon more than mere triumph in a final battle. The Shadow's purpose was to clear the names of helpless dupes; to gain vengeance for past crimes, as well as present; to forever squelch the man who had become Manhattan's biggest racketeer: Pinkey Findlen.

  That task seemed huge, even for The Shadow. But that was because men of crime had not guessed the hidden fact upon which The Shadow depended.

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE FINAL TERMS

  GILES Jondran lived in a pretentious mansion secluded behind a high wall that cut it off from the hubbub of Manhattan. It wasn't easy for visitors to gain entry there; but Pinkey Findlen had a way. He depended upon Slick Thurley.

  "You tell 'em, Slick," ordered Pinkey. Then, with a derisive snort, "I mean, you tell 'em, Bill."

  Pinkey's companion told him. He informed Jondran's servant that he was Detective Quaine, arrived on an important duty from headquarters. The servant was convinced; but the two visitors didn't see Jondran right away.

  Instead, they cooled their heels in a huge reception room that looked as high as it was wide.

  "Who'd want to live in a joint like this?" grumbled Pinkey. "Say - that thing" - he referred to a massive crystal chandelier - "looks like it would come down and crack you on the konk. But,
getting back to the point: why ain't Jondran seeing us, Slick?"

  Slick didn't reply. Pinkey saw him peering out into the hallway, listening

  for the approach of servants. Finally, he must have heard someone, for Pinkey saw him step back wearing one of the knowing grins that suited the part of Bill

  Quaine.

  A flunky arrived to conduct the visitors to Jondran's study. They followed

  a long hall; came to a massive doorway. Entering a little anteroom, Pinkey saw a

  heavy metal grille barring a doorway on the left. Beyond the grille was a room;

  it was dimly lighted, and Pinkey spied the door of a huge vault. There was another door on the right; it was of oak. The servant rapped at that door.

  There was a call to come in; the visitors were introduced to a large study, where Giles Jondran sat behind a massive desk. The only lights were near

  the desk itself, leaving the depths of the room vague, except at one wall, where

  flames were crackling merrily in a wide fireplace.

  Jondran's face was kindly, but marked with lines that gave him a keen expression. His eyes had a steady sparkle, beneath the grayish brows that matched his hair. His tone was businesslike, when he asked:

  "Which one of you is Detective Quaine?"

  Pinkey nudged toward the man beside him. Jondran inquired regarding Quaine's business here. It developed that Quaine had come for the sole purpose of introducing Mr. Findlen, which he did.

  "Just call me Pinkey," announced the big-shot, seating himself at the end of Jondran's desk. "I'd call you by your first name, too, if I knew how to pronounce it. Anyhow, we're acquainted. So let's talk turkey. Hand me those envelopes, Bill."

  RECEIVING the envelopes, Pinkey opened the one that was unmarked.

  "Take a gander at these," he told Jondran. "First, here's some dope on a guy named Howard Milay. You ought to know him. He runs one of your companies; an outfit called Sphere Shipping."

  Giles Jondran nodded, but his expression was perplexed.

  "Here's the proof of how Milay swindled a big insurance company,"

  continued Pinkey. "Letters, showing that he knew one of the ships was loaded with junk metal and was due to hit the bottom of the ocean. Only, Milay collected on a cargo of supplies."

  Stupefaction came over Jondran's features.