Six Men of Evil

CHAPTER XXI THE SHADOW SPEAKS

IT was eight o’clock on the appointed evening. Tam Sook, the bland-faced Oriental who affected American garb, was seated at his accustomed desk. As before, he was inscribing Chinese writing. For Tam Sook, despite his youth, was one of the most important figures in the Chinese quarter of San Francisco.

Here, in this district where Tong warfare often raged, Tam Sook’s sanctum was an oasis amid strife. An intermediary between rival factions, Tam Sook could call upon any to do his bidding.

This room upon the second floor was innocent in appearance; yet, in reality, it was a spot of utmost danger. Tam Sook was a man who cared but little for life. Even his own was of no consequence to him. It was that fact that had enabled Tam Sook to gain his important position among the Chinese.

Tonight, Tam Sook had made arrangements for the gathering of Charles Kistelle and his crew of evildoers. That, to Tam Sook, was a simple favor to a man with whom he had been friendly.

Tam Sook owed but little to Charles Kistelle; and it was merely the opportunity for substantial profit that had caused him to acquiesce to Kistelle’s request for a meeting-place.

Here, in his San Francisco hideout, Tam Sook lived his self-important life and held all strangers in contempt. Thinking of Charles Kistelle now, Tam Sook smiled. Kistelle had come here as a friend. Had he been an enemy, he would have found matters quite different.

Thinking of Kistelle brought Tam Sook’s mind to The Shadow. He had heard often of The Shadow. Recalling past events, Tam Sook remembered that The Shadow had carried some of his exploits to the Chinatowns of both New York and San Francisco.

Charles Kistelle feared The Shadow. Therefore, The Shadow might come here. Tam Sook remembered his own words. He had told Kistelle:

“Let The Shadow come.”

Tam Sook smiled blandly as he recalled the statement. There were two men on duty below, placed there especially for this Friday night. Let The Shadow try to pass them! What if he should pass them? Then he would meet Tam Sook in person — Tam Sook who did not fear death and who was prepared to deliver it!

THERE must have been something telepathic in Tam Sook’s thoughts. At the very moment when Tam Sook was considering the question of The Shadow, a black-garbed figure was entering the anteroom at the foot of the stairs.

The Shadow was here, in advance of Kistelle and his crew. Sweeping silently across the entry, The Shadow paused and tapped the inner door. With a gliding motion, he stepped back into a fringe of darkness just as the face of a Chinaman appeared from within.

Seeing no one, the Chinaman advanced into the entry. An instant later, powerful hands were upon him. He collapsed in a heap beneath The Shadow’s attack. Black-garbed arms worked swiftly. The Chinese guard was soon bound and helpless.

While The Shadow still bent over his victim, the door again opened. The slight sound of the hinge was audible. The Shadow made a forward sweep as the second Chinaman appeared.

The result was the same as before. The new investigator plunged forward as The Shadow seized his body, landing the Chinaman half stunned upon the floor. A low laugh sounded as The Shadow bound the second of Tam Sook’s underlings.

Upstairs, Tam Sook was writing. He finished his inscriptions and stared at the sheet before him. He noted, curiously, that the paper had darkened slightly. He wondered what had caused the blotting smudge that covered the surface of the table. He looked up and his bland expression became fixed.

Before Tam Sook’s table stood a figure garbed entirely in black. Tall, weird and unexpected, it appeared as a being that had conjured itself from nothingness.

Tam Sook could not see the face of the mysterious visitor. He noted only two sharp eyes that glistened as they peered from beneath the turned-down brim of a slouch hat.

Tam Sook bowed.

“You are The Shadow,” he said.

A soft, whispered laugh came from the phantom shape. Even to Tam Sook, the man who had disclaimed all fear of The Shadow, that laugh was chilling. But, as the weird tones died away, the Chinaman regained his bland composure.

He noted that The Shadow bore no weapon. That was surprising. Having passed the door below, The Shadow should have anticipated danger here. Nevertheless, he seemed unprepared.

In a sense, Tam Sook deemed The Shadow wise. Had he come with threatening automatics, Tam Sook might have acted quickly against him. As it was, Tam Sook considered it best to wait.

“Tonight” — it was The Shadow’s voice that spoke — “men are coming to this place. They are men whom I seek.”

“You will not find them,” responded Tam Sook, calmly.

“Why not?” questioned The Shadow, in a low, eerie whisper.

“Because” — Tam Sook’s tone was slow — “you will not be here when they come.”

The eyes of The Shadow stared steadily at Tam Sook’s face. The Chinaman shifted uneasily. He sensed a menace, even though he knew that he was prepared.

“I have no quarrel with you,” declared Tam Sook. “Therefore you had no right to come here. What have you done with my men below? Have you killed them?”

“They are alive,” returned The Shadow.

“That is good,” remarked Tam Sook. “If they were dead, death would be your lot. Since they are still alive, I give you the opportunity to live. Go — while you are safe.”

The Shadow laughed softly. His whispered mirth brought an instinctive shudder to Tam Sook’s shoulders. The Chinaman felt uneasy. With a quick motion, he pressed his hand against the side of the table. Then, with a smile, he rested back in his chair.

“There is no escape now,” he said. “Should you attempt to leave this room, death would be yours. A single false step toward the door or the window will set forth a charge that will blow this place to pieces.

“Furthermore” — Tam Sook spoke slowly, as though proud of his perfect English — “all this will happen within five minutes, unless I am alive to prevent it. So kill me, if you wish. I am not afraid to die.”

Tam Sook spoke with assurance. On other occasions, he had used this measure against enemies. In every instance, they had pleaded for mercy. Tam Sook was interested to see what The Shadow would do. He heard The Shadow laugh.

“Your life for mine” — The Shadow’s words were sardonic — “would be an excellent exchange. There is, however, a way to prevent it. I shall show you.”

THERE was a note of regret in The Shadow’s voice. It seemed to indicate that he would have liked to end the life of Tam Sook and then meet the Chinaman’s boast. Instead, it was obvious that The Shadow intended to use a simple, though unexpected measure.

With his right hand, The Shadow peeled the glove from his left. He held the bared hand close to Tam Sook’s eyes.

The Chinaman stared at the glittering gem that shone upon the third finger of the slender hand. The gleaming girasol, with its everchanging hues, was, indeed, a marvelous sight. Tam Sook suddenly realized that he had set five minutes as the time for death. Yet time was moving slowly by and neither he nor The Shadow seemed to fear the approach of doom!

“Look!”

As The Shadow spoke, he made a motion with his hand. The iridescent girasol popped upward, on a hinge. A cavity was revealed beneath the precious stone.

Within that cavity was visible a tiny, weird-scrawled figure.

Tam Sook’s eyes bulged as he saw the figure. A gasp came from the Chinaman’s lips.

“The sign of Chow Lee!” he exclaimed. “The sign of The Great One!”

“Yes,” came the weirdly-whispered reply, “the gift of those of Chow Lee — those who are even more powerful than you! Only one man, other than your own, has this sacred symbol. I am that man!”

Tam Sook was still staring at the symbol. To him, as to all important Chinese in America, the sign of The Great One was a symbol of faith and loyalty. Whatever hates or friendships were made, all were leveled before this mystic symbol. All the leaders of Chinatown respected those who carried it.

Tam Sook was in a daze. It was The Shadow’s quiet voice that aroused him.

“Four minutes have passed,” declared The Shadow. “It would be wise for you to press the other side of the table.”

Tam Sook obeyed with wonderment. He realized, as he did, that The Shadow had divined the modus operandi of his trap; how one side of the table held the button which set the explosives that prevented escape; while the other side held the button that would break the contact.

All this time, The Shadow, with his keen intuition had held Tam Sook at his mercy. He could have killed the Chinaman and still have escaped with ease. That thought was in Tam Sook’s mind and The Shadow knew it. With calm precision, The Shadow spoke the answer to Tam Sook’s unasked question.

“I have need of you,” declared The Shadow. “Need of you and of your guards below. I have a purpose tonight and I do not propose to prevent the meeting which Charles Kistelle has arranged.”

Tam Sook was totally bewildered. How did The Shadow know that the meeting had been arranged? The Chinaman stared incredulously.

The Shadow knew all, he believed. Why not? The Shadow possessed the symbol of The Great One!

Tam Sook looked once again at the symbol just as the girasol closed over it. The flashing gleam of The Shadow’s mysterious gem alone remained before Tam Sook’s eyes.

The Chinaman arose and bowed again. He motioned to a chair beside the table. The Shadow took the seat. Tam Sook remained standing, in respectful attitude.

“I am here,” declared the Chinaman, “to do your bidding. Speak what you wish. I shall obey.”