The Shadow - The Death Sleep Part 13

Cliff wondered if The Shadow were nearby. He doubted it. The Shadow probably had other work to do. He had left this task to Cliff alone. The odds were that Cliff could report back. If something went wrong, Cliff could take care of himself, thanks to the completeness of The Shadow's plan.

Cliff and Skeet reached a touring car parked on the next street. They climbed in and the vehicle set out.

Growled voices told Cliff the ident.i.ty of his companions. Louie, Gabby and Muggsy were the other three who had been chosen to work with Skeet.

Louie was at the wheel. He followed the twisting course that Skeet ordered. When the car came to a stop, it was north and west of Times Square. Louie pulled into a wide, blind alleyway in back of an old garage.

The wall of the building had no windows. No one could have seen the crew that alighted. Skeet used a flashlight. He led the way to a grating and raised the bars of metal. He ordered the others to drop in and push their way through the open window beneath. Skeet followed last.

They were in a portion of the cellar. This part of the garage had evidently been abandoned. Skeet's flashlight showed where archways had been walled on the right. They followed a narrow pa.s.sage and came to an iron door that Skeet unlocked. The pa.s.sage continued on the other side, but at the left were small doors, also of iron. All were closed.

Skeet turned on a light that hung from the ceiling. Its rays could not be seen, for Skeet had closed and locked the outer door. The scrawny mobster led the way to the final door on the left of the pa.s.sage. He unlocked it, turned on a light and introduced the new crew to a small, stone-walled room, where a table stood in the corner.

Upon the table was a heavy wooden box. Skeet lifted the lid and showed the interior. It was divided into sections like an egg crate. Half of the compartments were empty; the rest contained small objects shaped like pineapples.

"Bombs," explained Skeet. "Loaded wid stuff dat'll knock you cuckoo in a jiff. One of dese'll put you under for two days. Worser dan a sniff of snow. Dat's wot's been de matter wid all dem mugs up in dehospital.

"Dere ain't no trick to usin' dem. Just give a heave; de end pops off an' goes blooey." He picked up one of the pineapples. "Like dis. Only let de ting go. Don't hang on to it like I did. Get me?"

The others nodded. They formed a tense group in this little room behind the iron door that Skeet had locked as an additional precaution. Skeet dived under the table and fetched up a stack of gas masks.

They were provided with goggles that projected above a small cylinder that was made to cover the nose.

"Dese take the stuff dat queers de gas," explained Skeet. "We wear dem under big handkerchiefs so no guy gets no chanct to lamp dem, see? Now dese masks ain't no good if dey don't have de stuff in dem."

"You got to empty dem after each trip. De stuff keeps, just so long as it don't get hit by de gas. But dat puts it on de blink. De gas does. Dese masks are empty. Watch while I fill dem."

FROM beneath the table, Skeet brought out a gallon jug, which was about one third empty. It contained a greenish liquid. The bottle was corked; a tin funnel was inverted on top of it. Skeet ordered Muggsy to hold a gas mask with the cylinder open. He set the bottle on the table; produced a small sponge which he thrust into the cylinder of the mask; then inserted the funnel.

Carefully, Skeet uncorked the big bottle and poured a small quant.i.ty of the fluid into the mask. He replaced the bottle, leaving the cork out. He showed the gorilla how to close the cylinder and lock it.

Then he took the mask from Muggsy's hands.

It was Skeet's intention to replace the mask on the table and proceed with the filling of others. Before Skeet could do so, however, Cliff reached forward and took the gas mask from Skeet's hands. He examined it in the light.

"This thing is all set?" questioned Cliff. "Ready to use when we go out?"

Skeet nodded.

"And all you've got to cover is your eyes and nose?"

"Dat's right. But keep your mouth shut. Don't breathe dat way. We ain't got no piece to cover de mouth because we want de bandannas to cover de whole mask. See?"

"I get you."

In natural fashion, Cliff attached the gas mask to his head. The others looked on curiously, interested to see how easily the job could be done. Skeet paused with his hands on the large bottle, figuring that this was good instruction for the new crew. Grins appeared when the others saw Cliff in his outfit.

"All set," remarked Cliff, smiling in return. "All I need" - he looked toward the table and thrust his hand in the big box - "is one of these."

"Look out dere!" exclaimed Skeet, as he saw Cliff pluck a bomb from the box.

"Don't monkey wid dem pineapples yet. Easy dere, easy -"

Cliff had stepped back with the bomb. Skeet started forward with an expression of alarm, which the others shared. Before the little crook had taken more than a single step, Cliff performed the unexpected.

He had raised his hand; now, with a quick motion, he swung his fist forward and hurled the pineapple tothe stone floor.

The bomb burst with a seething hiss. Instantly, a green cloud filled the room, obscuring the figures of those who stood therein. The vapor settled. Cliff, staring, saw the amazing result. His companions were rooted to the floor.

Skeet had settled back toward the table. Muggsy was leaning up against the wall, in a rigid pose. Gabby and Louie, away from table or wall, were balanced oddly on their feet in strained positions. Their bodies were swaying. Gabby's toppled as Cliff stared; then Louie's form lost its balance and went tumbling.

Only Cliff had evaded the death sleep. This was by virtue of the mask that he had donned. Cliff stepped over and found Skeet's keys. He unlocked the iron door to the hall. It opened inward. Cliff saw no need for hurry. The gas had subsided promptly; drops of moisture were drying on the floor.

One task remained. Cliff went back to the table and pushed the big bottle over the edge. The jug smashed; the precious neutralizer splashed across the floor and formed greenish streams that trickled in the direction of the doorway.

THE atmosphere had cleared. The neutralizer was following the evaporation process that had marked the disappearance of the gas drops. Cliff removed his mask, pulled out the sponge and dropped it down a grated drain that he found in the corridor.

His job was done. He had orders to leave the bombs untouched. The whole affair was to look like an accident - as if Cliff had not been here. A bomb set off by mistake; the neutralizer spilled - that would be all. But it left Spud Claxter without a crew; and it meant that no new raiders could fare forth protected against the fumes of the bombs that they might throw.

As Cliff turned back into the little room, he heard a click from down the hall. Someone was opening the door in the pa.s.sage. Cliff dived back into the little room and shut the door. He locked it. Then he realized the futility of his action.

This must be Spud, coming alone, to see if the crew had a.s.sembled. Had Cliff drawn a gun, he could have made a break for it. That was too late. The light in the pa.s.sage told Spud that Skeet and the others were here. The fact that Spud had a key for the outer door indicated that he had one for this door also.

Spud would be on the alert. He would see trickles of green that had gone out through the doorway. The chances were that Cliff would be trapped. A fight offered the way out even yet; but Cliff feared that it might injure The Shadow's plans. The game was to make this whole affair look like an accident.

Quickly, Cliff drew the little bag from his pocket. He brought out the syringe and jabbed it in his forearm.

Someone was pounding at the door: Spud had arrived. He was announcing himself by name. Cliff was grim.

The keys! He had almost forgotten them. He shoved them back in Skeet's pocket. The syringe! He must dispose of it. Cliff thrust the needle through the bag; leaning against the table, he reached beneath and pressed the point deep into the woodwork.

Neither object would be found. Spud could come in any time. He was still pounding at the door, but that meant nothing to Cliff. The opiate from the syringe was working. Cliff swayed dizzily and slumped softly to the floor. Consciousness faded.

Two minutes later, Spud Claxter decided to unlock the door. The barrier swung inward. The mobleader started in consternation. Five henchmen - all in a stupor. The neutralizer gone! Fierce curses came fromSpud's evil lips.

Crime was off for tonight. This crew of rookies had made some blunder. A dropped gas bomb; a broken jug. That ended the game that Wolf Barlan had planned. Spud fumed; then became calm. He knew that he would have to take care of these henchmen. That meant a call to Wolf for instructions.

Spud looked the crowd over before he left to call Wolf. Cliff Marsland, like the others, was lying in a rigid posture. He pa.s.sed Spud's inspection. The mobleader took Cliff - like the others - for a victim of the death sleep.

That emergency measure, the use of the quick-acting hypodermic, had been the final touch of The Shadow's scheme. It had served Cliff Marsland when he needed it. The thrust was made. All was well.

Through his agent, The Shadow had delivered a stroke to forestall crime.

CHAPTER XIX. AT THE HOSPITAL.

EARLY the next evening, Lamont Cranston's limousine drew up in front of the Talleyrand Hospital. Two persons alighted; one was Cranston, the other, Commissioner Wainwright Barth. They were chatting as they went up the steps.

"It is nearly forty-eight hours since the crime was attempted at Galder's," Barth was explaining. "If the present victims responded as did the others, they should be recovering very soon."

"Do you intend to quiz them immediately?" inquired Cranston.

"Yes," responded Barth. "Throckmorton showed no ill effects after making his statement two nights ago.

Hence we will question the recovering patients. But upon one point only."

"And the point?"

"The ident.i.ty of the inside man who was working with the crooks. There were indications of a melee at Galder's. Detective Cardona believes that they had discovered the malefactor."

They had reached the elevator and were riding upward when Barth resumed his statement.

"Some supercrook is in back of it all," a.s.sured the commissioner. "Once we have discovered which of the victims was in the game, we shall quiz that particular man when he awakes. Through him we will learn the ident.i.ty of the big chief."

THEY arrived at Doctor Lagwood's experimental room. Joe Cardona was there alone. The detective arose to greet the commissioner. He stated that Lagwood was visiting the various patients. While Joe was making this explanation, the physician entered.

Lagwood smiled wearily. He nodded and extended his hand when Barth introduced him to Cranston.

The specialist sank in the chair that was in front of his desk.

"I am thoroughly exhausted," declared Lagwood. "I thought that those last cases would end this trouble.

Two nights ago, I was ready to go home to Long Island and take a good rest. Then a dozen victims came here."

"We hope these will be the last," stated Barth.

"I share the hope," smiled Lagwood. "Another siege like this could make me a fit subject for my own sanitarium on the Sound. By the way, commissioner, when these new patients recover, it might beadvisable to send a few of them out there."

"For further observation?"

"Yes. There is a possibility that the death sleep may leave some ill effects. If I have a few patients convalescing under my personal observation, I shall be able to note any tendency toward recurring symptoms.

"There are several persons out there now who have partly recovered from various forms of sleeping sickness. Others are paralytics who have shown recurrent tendencies. There is one woman who is subject to occasional trance conditions. It is my practice to study all new ailments even after the patients have apparently gained complete recovery."

"A wise procedure."

The talk had become too medical for Joe Cardona. The detective's mind could not deviate from crime.

Finding opportunity, Joe put in a remark.

"I was talking with Doctor Lagwood before you arrived," a.s.serted the detective, to Barth. "You know what I said last night, commissioner. Twelve people knocked out in the middle of what looked like a brawl. I think some form of gas got them."

"We disproved that theory at Valdan's," objected Barth. "What is your opinion, doctor?"

"The gas theory has merit," replied Lagwood, propping his head wearily upon his hand. "But the blood condition of the victims does not prove it. I am inclined to reject it for the present. Later, perhaps, I may make tests with the convalescents."

"How?"

"By my vapor treatment. I tried it with but little success. I did not care to apply it too strongly while the victims were still in their cataleptic state. But with convalescence, at my sanitarium, I might make more concentrated experiments."

Doctor Lagwood paused. His eyes closed; he seemed half dozing. Yet his ears detected the approach of footsteps from the hall. Awaking from his catnap, Lagwood was the first person to witness the entry of a younger interne.

"Ah, Jennings!" exclaimed the specialist. "You have a report to make on the patients?"

"Yes, sir," replied the interne. "Rufus Galder is showing the first signs of consciousness."

"Good. We shall go into his room promptly. What else, Jennings?"

"I called Hoffer, sir, to ask about the neutralizer. You said you wanted some to take to the sanitarium."

"Yes, in case I try the vapor treatments on the convalescents. I wanted to be sure that he had the full supply available."

"He has it, sir. Hoffer was not there, but one of the a.s.sistants told me that he had made up a new supply from the formula."

"A new supply? I asked about the old."

"Apparently something happened to it, from what the a.s.sistant said. He told me that Hoffer raised a bigfuss the other day because he could not find it and that the old man immediately made up a duplicate amount."

"Very well. So long as Hoffer has some ready when I need it."

"I am sure that it is available, Doctor Lagwood. I made certain of the fact when I talked with the clerk."

Jennings left and Lagwood smiled wearily as he spoke to the police commissioner.

"There is an efficient helper," remarked Lagwood. "A new interne, that young chap, Jennings, yet he is the most capable man in the hospital. I have hesitated to call other physicians in on these last cases; but twelve persons are more than I can attend. Other physicians might want to prescribe according to their own methods. Not so with Jennings.

"He has carried out my instructions to the letter. In fact, some of the patients have been almost entirely under his care. Well, gentlemen" - the physician arose - "let us go in and view the first man to recover. If Rufus Galder appears strong, I can permit you to question him."

LAGWOOD led the way while the others followed. They found a nurse arranging pillows in back of Galder's head. The millionaire had come out of his trance in surprising fashion. Though Jennings had reported but a few moments before, Galder was already wide awake.

Doctor Lagwood motioned the others to remain in the corridor. He entered and made a brief examination. He came to the door, just as Jennings appeared beside those who were waiting there.

"Three others are recovering," said the interne. "I think you should see them, Doctor Lagwood."

"At once," replied the specialist. "All right, commissioner. You may enter and talk to Rufus Galder."

Barth and Cranston entered. While they stood beside the bed, the commissioner gave the nod to Cardona. The detective had questioned Throckmorton; Barth wanted him to do the same with Galder.

Joe approached, told the millionaire his name and came to the point.

"I want to know about what happened at your place," explained the sleuth. "Tell me this, Mr. Galder.

After the commissioner called you, did you make any effort to learn if a crook was among your guests?"