The Shadow - The Death Sleep Part 9

"That you, Wolf?" queried Spud, speaking into the mouthpiece. "Yeah... This is Spud... Over on Long Island. Say, about those two fellows. Yeah, they're right near here..."

Spud paused. He was listening to the orders that clicked through the receiver. His eyes began to blink; his mouth opened as he heard the unexpected instructions which came from the big shot. When Wolf was through, Spud could not find his voice for the moment. Then he blurted his understanding.

"I get it, Wolf," were Spud's words. "Say. That makes it soft... Sure... I'll have Louie and Gabby boostthe two of them in my coupe... Yeah, I'll send Louie and Gabby in with the empty touring cars... That's right, they won't have no trouble pa.s.sing the bulls at the bridge...

"That's right. I won't have no trouble either... This makes it a cinch... Luke and the other mug? Say - they won't have no idea what I'm going to do with them... No. They won't know where I'm taking them...

Sure. I'll tell Louie and Gabby that I'm looking after the two gazebos... Yeah. That's all Louie and Gabby need to know."

Spud hung up the receiver. He left the store, chuckling as he went. He drove his coupe from the boulevard and took a side road that led to the spot where he had left Louie and Gabby with the wounded men in the touring cars.

From now on, Spud would look after Luke Gonrey and the second gorilla who had been dropped by one of The Shadow's slugs. Spud was elated by the cleverness of Wolf Barlan's orders. He had gained new confidence in the big shot's craft. For of one thing, Spud was sure.

The mobleader felt positive that when he had followed Wolf Barlan's instructions, the two wounded gorillas would be safely stowed in a spot where not even The Shadow would think of finding them.

CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW'S MOVE.

AT noon the next day, Police Commissioner Wainwright Barth encountered Lamont Cranston in the lobby of the Cobalt Club. Barth had come there for lunch. By mutual consent, he and Cranston went to the grill room and there took a secluded corner.

Barth needed the quieting calm of a chat with Cranston. For the police commissioner had been on the go ever since midnight. Crime on Long Island had kept him busy. The new appearance of the death sleep had made him anxious.

"Think of it, Cranston!" exclaimed the commissioner. "Five men overpowered. Helpless victims left in the grip of a terrible paralysis. There is only one consolation. Only one."

"The recovery of the previous group?"

"Yes. We removed the five new victims to the Talleyrand Hospital where they are under the personal supervision of Doctor Seton Lagwood. He believes that he can restore them to consciousness."

"What was the motive of the crime?"

"We do not know as yet. We know that crime was involved, because of the terrific gunfight that took place outside the home of Felix Currian. Half a dozen dead mobsters there - all, apparently, members of the same band.

"We believe that they tried to interfere with the activities of those who actually entered the house.

Therefore we estimate that there must have been at least one dozen of the original raiders."

"Why one dozen?" inquired Cranston.

"It would have required that many," a.s.sured Barth, staring upward, through his spectacles, "to have eliminated so many enemies. That is my opinion."

"Does Detective Cardona share it?"

"He seemed rather doubtful at first. He was rather reluctant, but he finally agreed with me." A thin smile showed on Cranston's lips. Joe Cardona would naturally have been reluctant to state his own theory. For Joe Cardona was one member of the Manhattan force who had previously viewed the results of The Shadow's work. Well did Joe know of The Shadow's power.

Commissioner Barth, however, had branded The Shadow as a myth. Barth's term of office had been short. It would probably end when Ralph Weston, the previous commissioner, returned from the Republic of Garauca, where he was restoring order as head of the National Police.

Barth, as yet, had not learned what experience had taught Weston: namely, that The Shadow actually existed and was active in the eradication of crime. All of Barth's success as commissioner had been due to the regime that Weston had so effectively established in New York. Weston's success, in turn, had been made possible through the hidden service of The Shadow. Though Weston was gone, The Shadow still remained.

"FELIX CURRIAN is a millionaire," explained Barth, unwittingly giving facts to The Shadow, "and his guest last night was a man named Gerald Throckmorton. We believe that they were discussing financial matters and that certain sums of money may have been in view.

"Throckmorton is from Boston. A third man present was from the same city. His name is Parker Howland, and he is in the employ of a private detective agency in Ma.s.sachusetts. A wire from Boston has informed us that Howland was a.s.signed by the agency to accompany Throckmorton on his trip to New York."

"What about the others?" questioned Cranston.

"Two servants," replied Barth. "We have learned their names from Mrs. Currian, who returned from Was.h.i.+ngton when informed of the case. There was a third servant, however, whom we have not yet located. He was employed there under the name of Thomas Devin; but we believe that he was a crook, working for the ones who made the raid."

"I see. What about the victims, commissioner?"

"You mean their condition?"

"Yes."

"It is unchanged. When Detective Cardona reached Currian's, he ordered them to be taken to the Talleyrand Hospital. Then he put in a call for Doctor Lagwood. He was just too late; Lagwood had left the hospital after sleeping there all day. He was on his way to his sanitarium on the Sound.

"The hospital called the sanitarium. Word was left for Doctor Lagwood to call back. After Cardona reached the hospital with the new batch of victims, the return call came in from the doctor. He gave orders concerning the new patients; then he came back to New York. He has been with the new victims since midnight. I am going up to the hospital immediately after lunch."

The topic ended for the time being.

When the two club members were finis.h.i.+ng their dessert, Cranston put a quiet question to Barth.

"You learned no more about the dead man, Troxton Valdan?"

"Not a great deal," replied Barth. "He had made a trip to Providence, Rhode Island, and stayed there in a hotel over night. It was not the first time that he went to that city. We believe that he may have held a conference with someone there," "On what subject?"

"Chemical inventions. Valdan was a queer sort. His field of investigation seemed unlimited. He was living on royalties gained from formulas that had shown commercial value. Paper bleaching, elimination of carbon monoxide in garages, other ideas of various description.

"We cross-examined Benzig and Crowder to a.s.sure ourselves that neither of the men knew more than they had said. We have made no further progress with the case. It still remains a mystery. We have been utterly unable to trace the delivery men of whom Benzig spoke."

With this statement, Commissioner Barth arose and glanced at his watch. He remarked that he must hurry to the hospital, as he wished to be there when Doctor Lagwood examined the patients. He added that the only other physicians whom Lagwood had allowed to be present were members of the hospital staff. With that, Barth departed.

LAMONT CRANSTON finished a cigarette. In deliberate fas.h.i.+on, he arose and strolled upstairs to the lobby. He put in a telephone call and spoke in the quiet tones that were Lamont Cranston's accustomed voice. But when the receiver dropped in place, a soft, whispered laugh came from those thin lips. It was the laugh of The Shadow.

There was a reason for the quiet mirth. The Shadow knew that it would require Commissioner Barth fully thirty minutes to reach the Talleyrand Hospital. But the man whom The Shadow had called would be there in fifteen. The Shadow - using the tones of Cranston - had spoken to Doctor Rupert Sayre.

TWENTY MINUTES after he had received Cranston's call, Rupert Sayre was seated in the little office which formed the headquarters of his college friend, Freddy Lawson. The two men were engaged in brief conversation.

"Speaking of these death sleep victims," Lawson was saying, "the rule is that only staff physicians can view them. Then, of course, only when Doctor Lagwood permits it. They are in his charge. There have been times, though, when the rule has been stretched.

"Some of the staff are going up there now; and I think that it would be all right if you came along with me.

After all, half the members of the staff hardly know each other. Simply act as if you were accustomed to the place and I don't think you will be challenged by anyone."

They went upstairs. They found a small group of doctors studying the patients. Doctor Lagwood, tall and dignified, was making a few remarks. Sayre listened while the specialist briefly dealt with different modes of treatment that he had applied. A few minutes after Sayre's arrival, Commissioner Barth appeared.

Lagwood completed his discussion. The staff physicians left. Sayre, however, plucked Lawson's sleeve and held his friend in the hallway just as Lagwood appeared with Barth. The specialist was nodding; he crossed the hall to his experimental room and made a beckoning gesture. Barth followed. Sayre also stepped forward, drawing Lawson with him.

Lagwood seemed a bit surprised when he saw the two doctors who had followed the commissioner.

Then, recognizing Lawson as a staff physician, he made no objection to their presence. The question which Barth was putting referred only to matters which Lagwood had already discussed. The specialist was merely pointing out items of equipment with which Barth was not familiar.

"I used this for the vapor treatment," explained Lagwood, indicating a little tentlike object. "I tried a special compound" - he picked up a small, empty bottle - "that I prepared after making blood tests. A neutralizer. I used it but sparingly. It produced no noticeable results. "That, of course, was when I still believed that the effects of some gas might have been experienced by the victims. I knew that the use of a neutralizer was entirely experimental; but it was worthwhile if only as a test. I abandoned it, however, when the Valdan case proved so conclusively that noxious gas was not the cause of the death sleep."

Sayre had edged forward. He was looking at the bottle. Lagwood saw his interest and handed it to him.

Sayre noted that the label merely bore the word "Neutralizer" and the number 6. These were typed beneath the printed t.i.tle: "Hoffer, Pharmacist."

"Does Hoffer prepare your prescriptions also?" questioned Lagwood, still accepting Sayre as a staff physician.

"Yes, indeed," responded Sayre promptly.

"A remarkable pharmacist," commented Lagwood, receiving the bottle and replacing it on the shelf.

"Exacting in his methods, thoroughly reliable. His one fault is the fact that he will allow no other pharmacist to work with him.

"That is why I use my own t.i.tles for his compounds. For instance, I have called this particular prescription 'Neutralizer Number Six!' Should I require more of it while Hoffer is absent from his place, any one of his inexperienced clerks could find the large bottle and pour out the quant.i.ty desired.

"I use that method with all of my prescriptions. It saves me a great deal of delay. When experimenting, I frequently need fresh supplies. Well, commissioner" - Lagwood paused to turn to Barth - "I can only say that I hold the same hopes for these patients that I did for the others. I doubt that we shall have results within forty-eight hours; after that, we can look for prompt recoveries."

Sayre strolled out while Barth was following. Lawson followed. He smiled as he spoke to his friend.

"I'll bet Lagwood would have hit the ceiling if he'd realized you weren't on the staff," remarked Lawson.

"He's a great stickler for rules. I nearly fell over when he handed you that bottle. You fixed it, though, when you chimed in about Hoffer."

"How?"

"Lagwood thinks that Hoffer is the only real pharmacist in New York. So that made it fine when you agreed with him. No one ever argues about Hoffer when they talk with Lagwood. After all, Hoffer does know his business."

"Where is his place?"

"Two blocks over. Very conveniently located."

WHEN Rupert Sayre drove away from the Talleyrand Hospital, he drove past Hoffer's Pharmacy. When he reached his office, he put in a telephone call and talked with Lamont Cranston. Sayre's face, usually serious, wore a smile. The young physician knew that his millionaire friend was pleased.

For Cranston had particularly requested Sayre to learn if Lagwood had tried any vapor treatments; and if so, to find out regarding the particular compound used and the quant.i.ty that had been prepared. Sayre had learned that Hoffer had made up such a prescription; and that only a small quant.i.ty of it had been sent to the hospital. He told Cranston that Lagwood had none left; but that Hoffer probably had a large amount available.

AT the Cobalt Club, The Shadow made another telephone call promptly after he had talked with RupertSayre. A thick voice came over the wire. The Shadow spoke; but he used neither his own whisper nor the quiet tones of Lamont Cranston. Instead, he talked in a voice that was a remarkable imitation of Doctor Seton Lagwood's. The Shadow remembered the physician's accents, as he had heard them at Troxton Valdan's.

"h.e.l.lo. Mr. Hoffer?" There was a slight upward inflection in the pretended voice of Lagwood. "Yes...

This is Doctor Lagwood... Ah. You recognized my voice..."

"Tell me this, Mr. Hoffer. The neutralizer... Yes, number six. I wish to be sure of its exact quant.i.ty...

Yes... You are sure? I see... Ah, yes, I had forgotten that I told you to store it away... I think it would be best to make certain. Yes, I shall hold the wire..."

Thin lips framed a smile as minutes pa.s.sed. The Shadow knew that Hoffer was searching the cellar for the stolen neutralizer. He prepared for the conversation that was to follow Hoffer's return. The thick voice suddenly recurred, in apologetic fas.h.i.+on. Feigning Lagwood's tone, The Shadow became indignant.

"What! You cannot find it..." The Shadow paused to hear Hoffer's sputtered excuses. "I cannot understand your negligence... No. No... I do not need it today, but it should be available... What is that?

Ah - you still have the formula... Of course... I see. You will make up a new supply... The same amount... Very good, Mr. Hoffer... Yes, store it until I require it... This time, be sure of where you place it..."

Afternoon pa.s.sed. The Shadow remained at the Cobalt Club. No calls came from Burbank. The efforts of the agents were in temporary abeyance. Yet The Shadow, calm in his guise of Cranston, was quietly at ease.

He had learned data regarding Troxton Valdan, but he saw no reason to trace the dead chemist's previous actions. If Valdan's visits to Providence concerned the gas that induced the death sleep, the schemer who had met the chemist in the Rhode Island metropolis would certainly have covered up his tracks.

The Shadow had also learned details regarding Felix Currian and those who had been at the house on Long Island. Those facts merely backed up The Shadow's knowledge that crime had been perpetrated.

The battle at Currian's was now no more than a past episode.

THE SHADOW was looking toward the future. He was planning his own actions; he was counting on the aid of one agent, Cliff Marsland. Through Cliff, The Shadow had already gained information that had led to a thrust against crime. He was positive that Cliff would play an even more important part in the next epoch.

Dusk arrived. Lamont Cranston left the Cobalt Club. He became a cloaked being of blackness. As The Shadow, he emerged from his limousine and arrived in the vicinity of Hoffer's Pharmacy. He entered the blind alley that Harry Vincent had described. He used the same method as Skeet when it came to dropping into Hoffer's cellar.

A tiny flashlight blinked. The Shadow, as readily as Skeet, discovered the closet shelf. A new jug had replaced the stolen one. The Shadow noted its label. His flashlight went out. Silently, The Shadow left the place and returned to the limousine, parked a few squares away.

Stanley drove to a new destination when he heard the bidding of his master's voice through the speaking tube. Again, the chauffeur parked and waited while a shrouded form glided from the car. Stanley knew his master for an adventurer. He was accustomed to these peculiar trips in the limousine.

He also was used to the extended periods of absence - months at a time - that marked Lamont Cranston's globe-trotting tours. Stanley, like Cranston's other servants, had been trained to obey orders and to avoid all speculation regarding his master's affairs.

Stanley had never once suspected that there were two Lamont Cranstons. The real one and another who frequently took his place while the genuine Cranston was abroad. At present, Lamont Cranston was actually journeying in the vicinity of Timbuktu. The master whom Stanley was serving was dwelling as an impostor at Cranston's New Jersey home.

Knowing nothing of this, it was not surprising that Stanley had never identified these limousine trips in Manhattan with the activities of The Shadow. Blissfully ignorant, Stanley was parked within half a block of the most carefully hidden spot in all New York - the entrance to The Shadow's sanctum.

One hour pa.s.sed. Stanley was dozing. Again came the quiet voice of Lamont Cranston, ordering Stanley to return to the uptown street near Hoffer's Pharmacy. The chauffeur obeyed in his accustomed fas.h.i.+on.

Once more, he was oblivious when the figure of The Shadow left the car.

The tiny flashlight glimmered through the cellar of the drug store. It approached the closet. Then came darkness. A pause; a trifling noise; a final glimmer. The rays revealed the big bottle on the shelf, exactly as The Shadow had found it. The green liquid glistened while the flashlight blinked.

The Shadow departed. He laughed softly as he moved through the blind alley. The Shadow had completed his task. He had discovered the new supply of neutralizer. He had gone to the black-walled laboratory that adjoined his sanctum, there to make the tests that he desired.

The bottle was back upon the shelf, where it could be found when again required. Nothing in its position or appearance could reveal the fact that a mysterious intruder had temporarily removed the bottle and replaced it.

Out in the limousine, Stanley sat up promptly as he heard the voice of Lamont Cranston ordering him to drive the car to the Cobalt Club.

CHAPTER XIV. THE NEW MOB.