The Shadow - The Devil's Partner Part 12

He put the satchel on the kitchen table and opened it. The bag was crammed with packets of cash.

"Fifty thousand bucks!" Maletto chuckled. "You won't have to count it, boss. I ain't had nothin' else to do the past two or three days. I sure had the jitters waitin' for you to gimme the signal."

"It was better to take things easy," Kilby said. "Any signs of wise guys hanging around that dump of yours at the Brooklyn Bridge?"

"Nope. The place is air-tight. Swade is a chump!"

Kilby's grin tightened a little. He agreed with k.n.o.bs about Swade, but he couldn't get another name out of his mind. The Shadow!

k.n.o.bs didn't care for The Shadow either. But he was positive that his quick sneak from Jonah Minter's estate with the loot had left the black-cloaked avenger of crime hanging helplessly in the air.

Kilby tried to crowd his nervous thought about The Shadow into the back of his mind.

"Let's go to my consulting room," he said. "I can think better there."

He picked up the satchel. His henchman followed him.

Kilby paced up and down the quiet room. Heavy drapes concealed all the windows. He examined those windows before he sat down again. He had found one of the window catches open the other day. It had alarmed him because Oliphant, when he had questioned him, had denied that he was responsible.

But now, thinking things over, Kilby decided that he was wrong in suspecting invisible surveillance by The Shadow. Oliphant was an old man. His memory had played him false on other occasions. The butler had probably loosened the window catch and then forgot to tighten it again. Kilby sat down at his desk and grinned at his henchman.

"The Shadow is more of a help than a nuisance," he declared. "The fact that The Shadow has taken a hand in this game suits me fine. Swade is completely fooled. He is certain that The Shadow swiped the money. As long as he suspects The Shadow, he will never suspect me!

"If you studied psychology, k.n.o.bs, you'd know that in the human mind there can never be room for two opposing ideas on the same subject. One idea pushes out the other. Swade is positive The Shadow stole the fifty grand. That pushes me out of his calculations."

"O.K. by me," Maletto growled. "All I know is there ain't gonna be no fifty-fifty split with Swade. Am I right?"

"You're very intelligent," Kilby said with a tight smile. "Now what about Swade's movements? What have you found out about him in the past two days?"

"Plenty!"

THE thug sat forward in his chair. He knew a lot more than Kilby did about this angle. It made him feel important.

"I did a sweet job of tailing that bird. I found out what you want to know."

Kilby's manner was suddenly urgent. "Where did he go? What did he do? Shoot it fast! I want all the facts."

"Well, the first thing Swade did was to -"

k.n.o.bs didn't complete the sentence. He shut up quickly. His head jerked sideways toward the door of the consulting room. He had heard a ring from the front doorbell of the house.

Kilby heard it, too. He leaped to his feet, grabbed Maletto's arm, jerked him through the doorway toward the front hallway.

"Who could it be?" Maletto whispered. "Are you expectin' anybody?"

"No. Get upstairs. Go to my bedroom. There are no servants around. You won't have to worry. Just stay in my bedroom with the door locked until I get rid of whoever it is. Probably some d.a.m.ned fool with an imaginary mental illness."

He shoved the leather satchel to k.n.o.bs. The thug raced silently up the stairs out of sight.

Kilby waited. He heard the doorbell ring again, this time more impatiently. He opened it - and faked a quick smile of welcome.

His visitor was Simon Swade.

"Come in, come in!" Kilby cried cordially.

"What happened to Oliphant?" Swade questioned. "Is he sick?"

"No. Just his day off. I'm all alone in the house."

Swade's thin nostrils flared. There was a hard glint in his eyes. "Just as well," he snapped. "I've got something hot to talk over with you. Just because we were stupid enough to let The Shadow s.n.a.t.c.h a neat fifty grand from us is no reason why we can't get it back - and a h.e.l.l of a lot more!"

He followed Kilby to the consulting room. The two tricky a.s.sociates in crime stared at each other.

"What's in the wind?" Kilby asked him.

"The Shadow, d.a.m.n him!"

"What about him?"

"I know who he is!"

Kilby's eyes gleamed. "Who?"

"Lamont Cranston!"

The glitter faded from Kilby's eyes. He made a sour gesture.

"We've been over that before. Cranston can't be The Shadow. We found that out the other night at Minter's place. You're just allowing your imagination to run away with you."

"The h.e.l.l I am! Listen! We both let ourselves be talked out of something that night. I mean that opened window that we saw from the ground. We didn't make any mistake. It was the top-floor window we saw open. The window of Cranston's bedroom!"

"But it was locked when we got there. The window below his room was the one we saw open."

"A stunt!" Swade snarled. "I don't know how he did it... but The Shadow is Cranston! That's what I came to talk over. We've got two jobs to do. The first is to make absolutely certain that The Shadow and Lamont Cranston are one and the same person. The second -" Swade's white teeth showed in the grin of a shark's. "The second is to murder him!"

"How are you going to prove he's Cranston?"

"By using brains."

"Have you got something definite worked out?"

Swade ground his teeth. "Not yet."

KILBY got to his feet. He began to pace the room uneasily. His fear about The Shadow had returned.

He thought about that strangely opened window catch on a window of his own consulting room. But he didn't mention it to Swade. Nor did he mention other things a lot more to his liking. He tried not to think about the presence upstairs of k.n.o.bs Maletto and a heavy leather satchel. He was afraid some hint of his delight might show to the watchful eyes of Swade.

"Cranston is living at the Cobalt Club," Kilby said finally. "Do you suppose he might have the dough hidden in his suite there? I mean the money he highjacked from you outside Minter's stone wall?"

"Don't be a fool," Swade rejoined. "If Cranston is The Shadow, he won't be as dumb as that! No, we've got to figure out something smart to trap him."

Kilby felt better. Swade was obviously still in the dark about the cunning trick Kilby had played on him.Kilby waited for a lead from his partner.

"I've got an idea," Swade said at last. "If it works, we can put the boots to this d.a.m.ned spook in the black cloak. Lamont Cranston will walk right into a murder trap! And we'll see to it that he won't walk out!"

"How?"

"Don't ask me yet," Swade said, his lips twisted. "I've got to work out details." He got to his feet. "I own a piece of property in Brooklyn. On the waterfront. At Gravesend Bay. Nice name. Grave's End!"

He laughed; but he shook his head when Kilby pressed him for details.

"I'll have to work it out first. Sit tight until you hear from me. But I'll promise you one thing: If my scheme works, The Shadow's name won't be Lamont Cranston. The Shadow's name will be mud! I mean that literally!"

He left the consulting room. Kilby saw him to the door. As soon as the front door was closed and bolted, Kilby raced up the staircase to his bedroom. k.n.o.bs Maletto opened the door.

"Who was it?"

"Swade!""

"Is he wise?"

"No, but he's got ideas about The Shadow."

He told Maletto about the conversation downstairs, and the eyes of k.n.o.bs gleamed.

"Lamont Cranston, eh? Wouldn't that be something! Maybe the guy's right about Cranston. Let Swade figure on it. It'll keep him busy - while we're busy on Swade!"

Maletto's face was taut with triumph.

"I didn't get a chance yet to tell you what I already done about Swade. I dunno about Brooklyn or Gravesend Bay. But I do know something about a joint in the Bronx."

"You trailed him to the Bronx?" Kilby whispered.

"I was on his tail the whole time. Like a flea. Only I'm smart, boss! I don't leave no flea itch to make a guy scratch. He didn't tumble."

"Where is this house in the Bronx that he went to?"

"It ain't no house. It's a boat yard."

"A boat yard?" Kilby was puzzled.

"Yeah. A place where you store small craft. You know, put 'em up on ways, get 'em repaired and painted. That's where Swade went. A shabby joint on the Bronx side of the Harlem River, north of High Bridge."

Maletto's voice raced.

"It's a kind of dead-end spot down by the river's edge. On the land side is nothing but an old rutted roadwith no traffic much. A wobbly wooden fence. n.o.body there at night but one watchman in a little shack.

A cinch for a quick raid.

"Has Swade got a boat there?"

"Yeah. A cabin cruiser. A thirty-five footer. It's up on stilts. High and dry. And that ain't the only thing Swade's got there."

Kilby ripped out an eager oath. "You saw the stuff?"

"I didn't see it. But I know where it is. And I know how to get at it. Tonight sounds like a swell time to make the try."

Kilby thought so, too. The light in his eyes was a flame of eagerness. He pressed his henchman for details. Maletto gave them.

"You'd better beat it," Kilby said finally. "I won't want to run any chances on Oliphant coming home unexpectedly and finding you here. We'll make it a date for tonight."

They went back through the silent house to the kitchen. k.n.o.bs Maletto left as cleverly as he had arrived.

He faded through a tradesman's alley and drifted un.o.bserved to a parked coupe. k.n.o.bs was happy.

So was Anthony Kilby. The grim zeal of Simon Swade to trap Lamont Cranston and prove him The Shadow was a G.o.dsend to Kilby. It would keep Swade busy, make him easy meat for another cunning double cross.

But The Shadow remained an ominous worry at the back of Kilby's mind. In spite of himself, he lifted the dark curtain at his consulting room window and glanced suspiciously out.

His precaution was unnecessary. The Shadow was nowhere in the vicinity of the Kilby home.

The Shadow was ready for action elsewhere!

CHAPTER XIII. A SUCCESSFUL RAID.

THE fence was scarcely visible in the darkness.

It paralleled a poorly paved road. Weeds grew thickly between the edge of the road and the fence. On the opposite side, the ground rose in a steep slope.

One section of this lonely fence seemed to be darker than the rest. The weeds were thickest here. A cloaked figure waited silently.

The Shadow had reached his goal! He could smell the dank odor of muddy tide flats. He peered through a small hole in the fence. He was gazing into a boat yard.

Canvas-covered boats loomed in the darkness like sheeted ghosts. Nearer the edge of the water were larger craft. These were lifted off the ground, supported by wooden scaffolding. Some were streaked red with a new coating of rust-proof paint. Others had scarcely been touched.

The Shadow's gaze studied the boat that stood closest to the watchman's shack. It belonged to Simon Swade. In the darkness, it looked similar to the others. From outside the fence it was impossible to identify it clearly. The Shadow's knowledge came from a very good reason. He had been here before.

k.n.o.bs Maletto's hide-out near the Brooklyn Bridge had not been as "air-tight" as he had boasted toAnthony Kilby. Helped by an excellent description relayed to him by Burbank, Cliff Marsland had put an invisible finger on k.n.o.bs.

After that, the cunning little Hawkeye had taken over.

Hawkeye had tailed Maletto to a spot outside the sw.a.n.ky Manhattan apartment of Swade. When Swade emerged and headed uptown, Maletto had followed him. Hawkeye didn't. A signal from The Shadow instructed Hawkeye to drop out.