The Shadow - The White Skulls Part 10

salute you, Sark!"

Clicking his heels, Zune was about to hoist an arm in n.a.z.i style when he remembered Sark's package and desisted before Sark could start to copy the salute. Then, with a happy leer, Zune gestured to the package: "We can add that to our store, Sark, when you no longer need it - or think you need it."

Reverting to the map, Zune w.a.n.gled a ruler cross-country until he came to the area of a town marked Hartfield, some twenty miles from Stanwich.

"The treasures are there," announced Zune. "Art treasures worth millions, enough to finance our future indefinitely. Or should I say definitely?"

As Zune leered from the map, he saw that Jud was drinking in all these details, something which Zune could ignore. It was Sark upon whom Zune concentrated.

"Your objection sounded solid, Sark," stated Zune. "Why should we reveal our hand?" Zune shook his head. "By using Formula Four Hundred and N-Five in combination, we would not reveal it."

This made much sense to Jud. He remembered the vaulted tunnel that Zune had literally pried into Sark's cellar, only to close later by another process.

Zune was talking about it now.

"The treasures are in the old Crabtree Museum," reminded Zune, as though Sark didn't know. "In and out - and we shall have them, leaving only death and mystery on the premises. That should please you, my friend of the White Skull."

Eyes narrowed, Zune was staring at Sark as though trying to produce the optical illusion that Sark's face supplied, but the light was wrong for it.

"I have learned, however," continued Zune, "that the treasures may soon be removed; in fact that plans were already made for it. Was that your idea, Sark?"

Sark did not answer, but he did not flinch his face in the strong light which Zune had purposely directed on it.

"Or could it be," demanded Zune, "that you were conforming to the plan of somebody else? Of somebody we no longer need, for the reason we both have stated?"

Trying to think who might be meant by "somebody", Margo lingered on the name of The Shadow, but she wasn't too certain. Then came an interruption, a sharp cracking sound, but this time it wasn't the cross-clap of Zune's hands.

It was the sudden rolling of the map as Zune released it.

"We shall keep all the hostages," decided Zune. "I agree with you, Sark, that she is best" - Zune pointed to Margo, then gestured toward Jud and Gail - "but these others may be valuable. As for yourself, I have this."

Scrawling something on a slip of paper, Zune handed it to Sark, and added: "A pa.s.s for yourself, so that you can leave these premises. But I am sure you will prefer to wait until my full plans are made, as I would like to discuss them with you. However -" Finis.h.i.+ng with a shrug, Zune beckoned to one of his stolid retainers: "Show our friend Sark to his own apartment."

There was a reason why Zune did not first send away the hostages. Zune was the type who preferred an appreciative audience whenever he revealed himself as a master of the double-cross. As soon as Sark had been ushered out, Zune turned to Ludar and Kromer.

"We start for Hartfield within the hour," announced Zune. "If Sark tries to leave his quarters, eradicate him. After we have gone - myself and the men with me - use your own discretion. For Sark - mordo!"

Ludar and Kromer nodded their pleased agreement.

"At your own convenience," added Zune, "and with due discretion. That box Sark has with him, we need its contents for ourselves. Remember too that Sark still has a few friends among us. Therefore it is better that only you two should know."

Clapping his hands, Zune produced other servitors who marched Margo away with Jud and Gail. They arrived at a cell-block, which did not look too uncomfortable, except for its barred doors. There they were stowed in separate cells to await their fate.

This wasn't to be a long wait.

Elsewhere in this honeycombed domain, Ludar and Kromer had taken over watch outside of a fancily curtained doorway that represented the apartment which Alban Sark, as the famed White Skull, had provided for himself. Having dismissed the other guard, Ludar and Kromer buzzed between themselves.

"It would be komika," stated Ludar, "yes, funny, if Sark should try to use that pa.s.s with us!"

"He may try," rejoined Kromer, "since he does not know that we are here."

"But how soon would he try?"

"Perhaps very soon."

There was a pause; then Ludar's faceless visage twisted uglily.

"Maybe too soon, Kromer!"

"Too soon?"

"Yes. Perhaps already, while the other guard was here!"

At Ludar's notion, Kromer's face distorted in its own right. Then: "We are friends of Sark," reminded Kromer, "or we can pretend to be. We enter and address him as amiko, saying that Zune has sent us to ask if he has any further request. Then we shall see if he is still there."

"And the box!" added Ludar, warming to Kromer's suggestion. "Perhaps -"

The two sidled through the curtains and past another door beyond. There they reached a small but comfortable living room, with the half-opened door of a bedroom just beyond. Near that far door was a table, on it Sark's precious package. Lying on the package was the pa.s.s that Zune had provided.

So eager were Ludar and Kromer that they didn't think of the gloomy ante-room through which they had just pa.s.sed; in fact they hadn't paused there and certainly would not do so now. That was why they failed utterly to see the stir of the ante-room curtains.

Out of those drapes came blackness, living blackness, which stole swiftly up behind the interloping pair. It was the cloaked form of The Shadow and his gloved hands shot forward from the end of piston arms just as Ludar and Kromer were about to grip that all-important box which lay upon Sark's table.

Simultaneously The Shadow's gloved hands took two necks and brought their accompanying heads together with a crack as resounding as Zune's beaver clap.The Shadow had to catch Ludar and Kromer by their collars and give them slight flings at opposite angles, to keep them from landing on the table and overturning it, box and all.

Neatly done, that job, a fitting sequel to The Shadow's mysterious and unsuspected arrival in this realm. But there was more to follow.

Outside the cell block, a short while later, a patrolling guard paused to look contemptuously at the hostages who peered from their cells, like creatures in cages. A moment after, the guard wilted, his face much pained.

It looked as though a pair of black tarantulas had crawled around his neck to press his throat from either side. But when the choked guard sagged, those black grippers revealed themselves as gloved hands belonging to a cloaked owner.

Margo Lane gasped the name spontaneously: "The Shadow!"

A whispered laugh as The Shadow stooped to pick up the guard's keys. Then the cells were open, but as Jud Mayhew emerged, The Shadow clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him into the light. As Jud paused, wondering, The Shadow brought a gauze mask from beneath his cloak.

Next, he was placing that object on Jud's face, molding it there. Though thin, the mask had structure and could be shaped. It took The Shadow only a few minutes to smooth back the edges and tighten them with their gummed borders.

Jud felt his lips drawn apart by the tight gauze; he could feel a pressure, like that of hollows, around his eyes.

In fact, Jud felt like a grinning ape and thought that Margo and Gail ought to be laughing instead of giving the amazed gasps that they did. Then, The Shadow turned Jud toward a mirror at the end of the corridor and Jud gulped too, as well as he could.

The face that leered at Jud Mayhew from the mirror was a perfect replica of the skullish countenance of Alban Sark!

Next, Jud was pocketing an envelope that The Shadow gave him, speaking brief, whispered instructions that went with it. Then, in Jud's hand, The Shadow placed the pa.s.s that would take him to the outer world.

Jud nodded. Then: "It's a sure bet," he said, "provided I don't meet Ludar or Kromer -"

"Which you will not," interposed The Shadow. "From then on, follow the instructions in the envelope."

Nodding again, Jud gave an anxious glance toward Margo and Gail only to see that they weren't worried, at least not for themselves. In the company of The Shadow, they were safe; their only concern was for Jud's future.

Maybe that future still boded strange events. For as Jud Mayhew turned to leave as The Shadow's messenger to the outside world, he heard a weird, whispered laugh that seemed to warn him to guard his actions well.

Strange, that laugh of The Shadow!

CHAPTER XIX.

ONE hour later, the invasion of Zune's underground citadel came as swift and as short as the explosion of a blockbuster, with about the same result, except that there was no explosion. These preserves, which Sark had planned a.s.something impregnable, proved to be anything but that.

It happened right after a string of automobiles bearing Zune and his followers had emerged from their secret alley. The paving locked behind them but it didn't stay that way. Deep underground, two guards that Zune had left behind, suddenly found themselves confronted by guns. Margo and Gail were taking over, backed by The Shadow.

There was a third man present, another of Zune's henchmen. He was at the switchboard that controlled the automatic doors. The Shadow was handling him personally, again using that gloved neck grip that had the effect of velvet plated steel. Tossing the limp man aside, The Shadow operated the switches, then drew a pair of automatics and relieved Gail and Margo of the job of covering the two prisoners.

Soon, cars arrived from the ramp, three of them, headed by Shrevvy's cab.

From them came The Shadow's agents, to learn their chief's next plans. The Shadow unrolled the big map from Zune's room and showed them the route along which he intended to travel with them, in pursuit of Zune.

Except that Margo and Gail weren't going. They were steered right into the cab, and next thing, Shrevvy was whizzing them up the ramp to the outside world.

Reaching the street, Shrevvy drove a few blocks; then stopped at a cigar store to make a phone call.

Good friends now, Margo and Gail could discuss the turn of events that had put them in the discard. It was Gail who brought that up by asking: "Who is the cabby calling?"

"The police, probably," replied Margo. "He's tipping them off to Zune's set-up so they can take over while Zune is away. I only hope they don't forget to look through a few laundries and gather Ilga Vyx for a bonus."

"Tanjor Zune will have a big surprise waiting for him," decided Gail, "when he gets hack from Hartfield."

"If he gets back," corrected Margo. "Meanwhile, I'm wondering what became of Alban Sark. I mean the real one."

"That's right!" exclaimed Gail.

Sark must have gotten away! I only hope n.o.body mistakes Jud for him, now that it's no longer necessary.

By that time, Shrevvy had returned and Gail, to ease her worries over Jud, put a hopeful question to the cabby.

"You didn't happen to meet a friend of mine, did you?" queried Gail. "His name is Jud Mayhew and he's the person who gave the word about that underground city where you found us."

It was Shrevvy's policy to play ignorant, at least to the degree where he seemed merely a chance cab driver who had been commandeered by The Shadow's agents without knowing who they were.

"Don't know anything about it, Miss," rejoined Shrevvy. "But there was a pa.s.senger I took up to Riverside Drive. He was going to see somebody named Brenz, I think it was."

That meant Jud. Calling on Brenz was part of his business. It meant too that he was out of the disguise The Shadow had fixed for him. Gail couldn't drop around and see Brenz, but she had another idea of how to while away the time during the next few hours.

"Riding in a cab reminds me of something," Gail told Margo. "I ought totake a certain cab back where it belongs, so people will stop saying it was stolen instead of just borrowed. I know where it is, so let's go and get it."

The idea appealed to Margo. She knew the cab Gail meant; the one that belonged in Stanwich. If they took it there, they would be closer to Hartfield than they were at present. Therefore they might get news of The Shadow's expedition sooner. At Margo's nod, Gail told Shrevvy where to drive them.

Meanwhile, Jud Mayhew was finis.h.i.+ng an important interview with Philo Brenz. His hand strumming the table, Brenz's face showed an expression which carried a considerable quota of amazement.

"Incredible, these things you tell me." expressed Brenz. "But if they are true, Jud, we should do something about them."

"About everything has been done," a.s.serted Jud. "All we can do is sit back and wait."

"Not quite." Brenz shook his head. "Wait here a few minutes, while I see if Hugo is around. He is the chauffeur who works for me on Wednesdays."

When he returned, Brenz was shaking his head.

"No Hugo," he declared. "In fact all the servants are either out for the evening or gone home. Well, we can use my coupe to drive to Hartfield. Suppose we phone the Crabtree Museum first and warn them."

Brenz tried the call, only to learn that the museum phone had been disconnected.

"The place is probably closed," decided Brenz, "and they are getting ready to move the art treasures, I suppose. We'd better drive out there right away."

How Brenz and Jud were to fare in the general race for Hartfield was a question, considering the head start that others had gained. But there was a factor in their favor that did not disclose itself as they sped along in Brenz's fast-geared car, which really clipped the miles as soon as they were free of the New York environs.

The persons who were to learn that factor were Gail North and Margo Lane.

They discovered it because Gail insisted on trying a short route to Stanwich.

Coming over a hill, Gail halted the taxicab that belonged to the Apex Cab Company. This cab had a double seat in front, being of the small town variety.

Seated beside Gail, Margo also saw the moonlit panorama that lay before them.

Down the slope was the superhighway, dominating a small network of roads.

The question was which of two forks to take, here on the hill, in order to reach the best spot on the superhighway. What confused the issue was the fact that this was near the elaborate clover-leaf pattern of bridges and underpa.s.ses that formed a feature of the highway system near Stanwich.

Only from this spot could the girls have observed the singular thing that occurred amid the rolling valley.

Like little scooters, a row of cars whipped into sight along the superhighway and suddenly spread apart to take different routes among the clover-leaf ramps. They seemed to be playing a game, those cars, until three others came into view, pursuing them.

"Zune's caravan!" exclaimed Margo. "And there are The Shadow's cars catching up to them!"

"But they ought to be over by Hartfield!" expressed Gail. "What made them head for Stanwich instead?"

"It must have been something on that map," decided Margo. "Let's see what happens next."

They saw and promptly. One by one, Zune's cars began to disappear. It happened each time one swung down into the deepest underpa.s.s, a spot to which they all purposely converged. At the sharp bend each car veered and a portionof a concrete b.u.t.tress swung back from a framework of steel girders, swallowing the arriving cars, which came in such quick succession that the great door hadn't time to close before the next car reached it.

The clever feature of the system was the divergence of the original routes.

This made differences in the distances traveled to the focal point, hence the cars arrived at intervals and disappeared as neatly as by clockwork.