Maxwell Grant - The Man From Shanghai

A pause, while Wardlock made the notes in shorthand; then Malfort added:

“Lamport is no longer interested in the gems. Rowden wants Cranston to become a purchaser.”

While Malfort paused again, Spark Ganza inserted a growled remark. “Take it from me, chief,” volunteered the lieutenant, “this mug Arnaud is the same guy who called himself Furbish up at the Royal Arms. Barthow lamped him pretty close when he registered. But it didn’t mean anything to Barthow right then; he wasn’t checking on anybody except Rowden.”

“I have Barthow’s report,” returned Malfort, testily. “I have already formed my conclusion, Spark. It is the same as the one that you have offered.”

“I figure something more, chief. This Arnaud bird was The Shadow!”

“Perhaps,” remarked Malfort. “We must not be too sure upon that point, however. The Shadow has agents, Spark; and they are competent ones. He may have had another man pose as Furbish; then as Arnaud. Remember The Shadow has many purposes; moreover, he chooses often to keep his own activities hidden.”

MALFORT reached for Wardlock’s pad. He studied the secretary’s notations; then gazed toward the firelight. Evil eyes shone; a satanic smile besmeared itself upon Malfort’s countenance. Spark copied his chief’s leer, while Ku-Nuan delivered a hissed snarl.

“The Shadow did not contact Major Rowden,” purred Malfort, studying the firelight as though to find the answer from the flames. “Ku-Nuan was posted long before. He saw The Shadow only once. We may assume, therefore, that The Shadow was seeking entry to the penthouse when Ku-Nuan spied him.”

Despite his confidence, Malfort had begun with a mistaken statement. The error was to have its effect upon his coming campaign.

“Our position is the same as before,” continued Malfort. “We must watch for George Furbish. Keep men posted near the Royal Arms, in case he comes there. Meanwhile, Spark, make your own headquarters near the Maribar Hotel, as you did tonight. Whether Furbish arrives at the Royal Arms or not, he will eventually visit the Maribar. We shall allow him to call on Major Rowden.”

Spark delivered a surprise grunt. Malfort turned and fixed his cold eyes upon his lieutenant.

“We shall permit Furbish to buy his gems and depart with them.”

Spark stared incredulously. Malfort’s smile showed a depth of shrewdness. “Does it matter whether Furbish carries cash or jewels?” queried the supercrook. “Particularly when the money that he brings will be left with Rowden, instead of the jewels that Furbish takes away?”

“I get it!” exclaimed Spark. “Great stuff, chief! If Furbish shows up at the Maribar, Barthow slips me the word. We get set while Furbish is up in the penthouse with Rowden. When Furbish comes out -”

“Quite sufficient, Spark. You have grasped the idea to the fullest detail.” Again turning toward the fire, Malfort spent a few minutes in silent speculation. When he spoke, he delivered new plans.

“We need not concern ourselves with this new purchaser,” decided Malfort. “I refer to Cranston; he can wait until he has decided whether or not he wants to buy the jewels that were reserved for Lamport. Rowden apparently suspects very little; otherwise, he would not have telephoned Cranston.

“So long as their contact is entirely by telephone, we shall wait. On no account, however, is Cranston to be permitted to visit the penthouse. Barthow – or others at the hotel – can handle that by telling him that the major is not at home. Such has been the usual procedure when any one calls to see Rowden.”

Spark nodded. He knew the system that had been used with the few visitors who had called at the Maribar to ask for Major Rowden.

“The Shadow is a different case!” snapped Malfort suddenly, his lips writhing in a sudden leer. “He must be trapped at all cost! Otherwise, he may interfere with every plan that I devise. Hence I shall move against The Shadow tomorrow.”

Ku-Nuan gave a gleeful snarl; but Spark’s face showed doubt. So did Wardlock’s; the moon-faced secretary invariably displayed a troubled expression when The Shadow was mentioned.

“You have objections?” demanded Malfort suddenly, turning to look at Spark. “What are they?”

“The Shadow’s a tough egg,” returned Spark. “I’m ready to take a stab at him, chief, but I can’t count on my gorillas. Mention The Shadow to those mugs, they get weak knees.”

“Would they show weakness if they knew that they stood fifteen to one against The Shadow?”

“Odds don’t count with The Shadow, chief. He can stage a fadeaway right in the middle of a mob. There’s guys that have seen him work it.”

MALFORT reached for Wardlock’s pencil. Upon the pad, he drew a square; in each side he made an opening. He drew an arrow pointing through one of the four spaces. Spark studied the diagram in perplexed fashion; but Wardlock, drawing closer, showed a gleam upon his moonish face.

“This square,” explained Malfort, “represents a small courtyard formed by the walls of four buildings. The openings are passages; the most inviting entrance is the one that I have indicated with the arrow.

“Two of the buildings are warehouses; the third is a garage. They have sheer walls that offer no escape. The fourth building was once a pawnshop. Its rear windows, opening into the court, are permanently blocked. I refer to the windows of the ground floor; there is one window on the second story and it can be opened. It serves as a lookout post.”

Malfort used his pencil to indicate the four openings that represented passage.

“No one would hesitate to enter a courtyard with so many exits,” stated the supercrook. “These openings, however, are like doorways; for the walls above them are joined. Each connecting wall conceals a heavy iron grating that can be released to block the passage below it.”

Spark grinned. He could see the courtyard as a trap that would hold The Shadow. Suddenly, his grin soured.

“Who’s going to drop the gratings?” he queried. “That’s something to think about, chief.”

“The barriers will fall automatically,” replied Malfort. “Each passage is equipped with a photo-electric beam, closer to the courtyard than the grating which the beam controls. Once the beam is broken, the barrier will fall.”

“Those beams would show,” objected Spark. “They’d be a give-away.”

“Not the ones that Wardlock installed,” returned Malfort. “Did you ever hear of black light, Spark?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Black light is a scientific development,” explained Malfort, in his confident pur, “that is admirably suited to the purpose under discussion. It produces a beam that is invisible in darkness.”

“Like The Shadow is?”

“Yes. Therefore, he will not discover the trap. Once he has passed the first barrier, it will drop behind him. Each passage that he approaches will be instantly blocked by another grating. The Shadow will be trapped. Confined to the courtyard, he will be exposed to gunfire from four directions.”

“I get it. I split my crew four ways. We barge in with Tommy guns. We give him the works.”

“If necessary, yes.” Malfort delivered an insidious smile. “Perhaps, Spark, you will find him already incapacitated. In that case, you can open one of the barriers from the outside and venture in to find The Shadow.”

“Who’s going to get him ahead of us?”

Malfort’s smile showed a devilish anticipation.

“Ku-Nuan will be at the lookout window,” he stated. “There will be no wooden post to block his knife when he decides to hurl it.”

Ku-Nuan expressed his appreciation with a snarly hiss. His lips were widened in a vicious grin. Spark, however, was stroking his underslung chin. The lieutenant was trying to find a flaw in the plans. Malfort’s malicious face showed approval of the fact that Spark was calculating all chances.