Spoils of the Shadow

CHAPTER XI THE FIFTH CRIME

“TAP — tap — tap — tap—”

“That’s Tyrell,” asserted Pug Halfin. The gangleader was in his room at the old Morocco Hotel. With him was Slug Bracken. Pug stepped to the door and opened it.

Mark Tyrell entered. He was wearing his inconspicuous overcoat and his derby hat. To-night, however, his scarf was not in evidence. There was no need for it. Tyrell was wearing an ordinary business suit beneath his overcoat.

With the door closed behind him, Tyrell seated himself and smiled shrewdly as he studied his two companions. In Pug Halfin and Slug Bracken, he viewed a pair of ruffians as tough as any in the underworld.

“We’re on the home-stretch,” announced Tyrell. “One more job and we will be done. I think to-night will be the finish.”

“The crown?” questioned Slug.

Tyrell nodded.

“Then you’ll be ready to fence the swag,” asserted Pug. “That ain’t goin’ to be no easy job—”

“There will be no difficulty,” interposed Tyrell. “The shipment of the stolen treasures will be a simple matter. First of all, the stuff is well under cover. We three alone have visited the hiding place.”

“Foon Koo has been there,” reminded Pug.

“Of course,” declared Tyrell. “He is there now. It is his duty to guard the treasure. Foon Koo might be regarded as part of the hiding place. However, the disposal of the treasures will come later. To-night, our task is to obtain the diamond tiara owned by Powers Jordan.”

“How’re you goin’ to grab it?” questioned Pug.

“By force,” returned Tyrell. “To-night’s theft will mean murder.”

The insidious suggestion did not faze either of the ruffians who listened to Tyrell’s discourse. On the contrary, both mobleaders appeared pleased by the statement that bloodshed would be required.

“You both did good jobs last week,” complimented Tyrell. “You worked well at Gault’s, Pug. You teamed perfectly with Foon Koo. As for the job at Bexler’s—”

“It was a cinch,” interrupted Slug Bracken, with a grin.

“It was properly handled,” returned Tyrell. “That is why I know that I can depend upon both of you — and the entire crew — for this coming job at Jordan’s.”

“Let’s hear the lay, Tyrell,” suggested Pug.

“VERY well,” said the suave society man. “First of all, we are dealing with a man who is quite different from any of the other collectors whom we have robbed. Powers Jordan owns a diamond tiara worth a quarter of a million dollars, at least. Yet he has stated — to the police as well as to his friends — that the tiara is no longer in his possession.”

“He’s stallin’?” questioned Pug.

“He is,” returned Tyrell.

“Foxy bird,” put in Slug.

“During the past week,” resumed Tyrell, “I have been making the most of a friendship with Powers Jordan. He is a member of my club. Occasionally, he becomes loquacious. He admitted to me privately, some time ago, that he still has the tiara.”

“Where?” questioned Slug. “Has he got it in a safe?”

“No,” replied Tyrell, with a shrewd smile, “he has it hidden somewhere in his apartment.”

“Do you know the place?”

“I expect to find it to-night.”

“How?”

“From Jordan. I saw him night before last. He asked me to drop in to see him. I have been very subtle in my private conversation with Jordan. I told him, in light of the robberies which have been accomplished, that he should not depend upon any ordinary hiding place. He finally wagered one hundred dollars that I could not find the spot in his apartment where the tiara is kept.”

“Did you take him up?” inquired Pug.

“Certainly,” smiled Tyrell. “Furthermore, I expect to lose the bet.”

“Then you won’t find the spot,” put in Pug.

“On the contrary,” stated Tyrell, “I shall discover it very easily. When Jordan demands payment of the wager, he will have to show me the actual cache which contains the tiara. Otherwise, I can express disbelief that he has a hiding place in the apartment.”

“Foxy stuff!” ejaculated Slug. “Say, Tyrell — that’s the real ticket.”

“When I have located the tiara,” resumed Tyrell, “I shall leave Jordan’s. I shall communicate with you in the vicinity of his apartment house. It will then be your job to enter and take the tiara. You will know where to get it after you hear from me.”

“Do we rub out Jordan?” asked Pug.

“Sure we do,” growled Slug.

“Correct,” declared Tyrell. “Inasmuch as I shall be the only person who knows the hiding place, Jordan would suspect me of complicity in the theft. Therefore, he must die.”

“I got it,” nodded Slug. “We two go in and make the grab. The rest of the outfit will be covering the getaway.

“Then Pug and I head for Foon Koo’s joint.”

“Exactly,” stated Tyrell, rising. “After that, the two of you disband the crew. Both of you keep going. Get away from New York. I shall see that you receive further remuneration later.”

“After the swag is fenced?” questioned Pug.

“Before,” replied Tyrell. “You will gain final payment for your services as soon as I hear where you have gone.”

“We’re satisfied,” asserted Slug. “You’ve passed us the mazuma regular, Tyrell. We know we can count on you.”

LEAVING the old East Side hotel, Tyrell went uptown. He returned to his sumptuous apartment at the Esplanade. He spoke to Wellington, asking the valet if any calls had been received.

“Mr. Vincent phoned, sir,” said Wellington.

“Any message?” asked Tyrell.

“No, sir.” Wellington shook his head. “He simply stated that he was at his hotel. I told him that you might call him from your club.”

“Very good. Did you telephone Miss Munson?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was she at home?”

“No, sir.”

Tyrell nodded. He left the apartment. On his way to the lobby, he smiled suavely. Tyrell was pleased, particularly by the report of Wellington’s call to Doris Munson’s. Tyrell held the hope that the girl might be attending another show with Lamont Cranston.

As he rode in a taxi toward Powers Jordan’s apartment house, Tyrell considered the situation that lay ahead. He felt that he had balked The Shadow four times. On each occasion, he had overcome odds.

Doris Munson had served well at Dutton’s. Again, she had been an aid at Brockthorpe’s. Finally, she had eliminated Cranston as a factor at Gault’s and had been responsible for his late arrival at Bexler’s.

Tyrell had allowed the blonde’s annoyance to continue. He had raised no objection to her friendship with Lamont Cranston. It was logical to suppose that Doris and Cranston were together to-night; even if such were not the case, Tyrell had no qualms.

He recalled that he had told The Shadow that there would be five robberies. The Shadow had apparently picked the first two places and had given up the struggle so far as the third and fourth were concerned. With Jordan’s apartment set as the scene for the fifth crime, Tyrell considered his plans as good as accomplished.

As he alighted in front of the apartment house where Powers Jordan lived, the schemer was convinced that he had entirely shaken off The Shadow as a threat. Even the police did not know that Jordan still owned the diamond tiara. Joe Cardona had been a more stubborn antagonist than The Shadow; therefore, Tyrell reasoned that he had nothing to fear.

Apparently, The Shadow had heeded Tyrell’s threat that violence would be delivered should he attempt to intervene against crime. As he walked up a broad stairway to the second floor of the apartment house, Tyrell already felt the gloating joy of final triumph.

Murder would be necessary in Jordan’s case. Murder would certainly arouse The Shadow. Murder, however, would spell the completion of Tyrell’s run of crime. The Shadow would be a menace of the past. Tyrell felt confident that he could pass beyond the sphere of The Shadow’s vengeance.

Tyrell looked about as he stopped at the doorway of Jordan’s apartment. He saw a fire tower close at hand. This exit, with its stone-walled stairway, would be perfect for a getaway following a murder. Pug Halfin and Slug Bracken would have a simple task, once Tyrell had uncovered the hiding place of Jordan’s tiara.

Tyrell had pressed a bell. He heard a voice calling to come in. He found the door unlatched; his smile persisted as he entered. This carelessness would mean more ease for the murderers when they arrived. Tyrell was still smiling when he advanced through an entry and came into the living room of the apartment.

POWERS JORDAN was standing with extended hand. Jordan was a tall, stoop-shouldered man; his face was pale and cadaverous. He had a habit of letting a cigarette hang loosely from his sagging lips. Tyrell saw that he was puffing in this habitual fashion.

“Hello, Tyrell,” greeted Jordan, in a weary tone. “Sit down. Help yourself to a fag. Have a drink.”

Tyrell seated himself beside a table. He reached for a cigarette, taking it from a box beneath the lamp light. Jordan was at another table, which had a similar lamp. The cadaverous host was pouring drinks from a cocktail shaker. He advanced and gave a glass to Tyrell. He sat down in a chair opposite the visitor.

“Well, old chap,” drawled Powers Jordan, “I’ve got a disappointment for you. Our bet is off. I’m not going to let you search for my tiara.”

“Why?” questioned Tyrell, in a puzzled tone.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair to take your money,” returned Jordan, with a dry chuckle. “I’m going to show you the tiara. I’m not bothering to hide it any longer. No one knows that I still own it. Why bother to keep it out of sight?”

“Good logic,” admitted Tyrell, swallowing his drink. “But these robberies at other places—”

“They all talked too much,” interrupted Jordan. “I don’t. That’s why I’m not worried about my tiara. Come along” — he set his glass upon the table — “and see it. Those diamonds are worthwhile looking at. This is a real crown, Tyrell; it used to belong to the Empress Josephine. I have it on display in my little curio room. Wait until you view the set-up. It will surprise you, the way I have placed the tiara on show.”

Tyrell followed eagerly as Jordan led the way through a darkened hall. The cadaverous man unlocked a door. He stepped into a darkened room. He pressed a light switch and beckoned to Tyrell.

As the visitor entered the lighted room, he saw his host pointing to the wall at the end. Tyrell turned in that direction.

Instantly, the shrewd crook stood transfixed. His body became rigid, his eyes bulged; his lips formed a frozen line. Total astonishment gripped Tyrell as he stared. Sparkling before his gaze was the diamond tiara; but that was not the object that caused his amazement.

The end of Jordan’s curio room had been arranged with a most unusual setting. From the wall, glistening in the light, hung the Sicilian tapestry that Tyrell had purloined from Sebastian Dutton’s.

On either side, like enclosing wings, were the golden screens from the Forbidden Temple. These were the prizes which Foon Koo had so artfully thrust between the bars of Rudolph Brockthorpe’s strongroom.

In front of the tapestry stood the Persian throne that Slug Bracken and Muff Motter had carried from Hubert Bexler’s opened vault. Seated in the throne, glowing green from the emeralds which adorned it, was the jeweled Buddha that Pug Halfin and Foon Koo had drawn through the secret opening in Ferrell Gault’s paneled room.

Powers Jordan’s diamond tiara was crowning the head of the jeweled Buddha. This was the final touch to the surprise which had been prepared for Mark Tyrell. The prize which he had come to steal was set in the very midst of the treasures which he had already pilfered and which he thought were safely held in the custody of Foon Koo!

Tenseness reigned as Mark Tyrell stared, unmoving. Then the silence was broken by the rising shudder of a mocking laugh. Wheeling in sudden terror, Tyrell faced the only other occupant of the curio room — Powers Jordan.

Eyes were burning from Jordan’s cadaverous countenance. The mocking laugh was coming from those pallid lips. In this light, for the first time since his arrival, Tyrell could see the masklike appearance of Jordan’s face. He could catch boring fire of eyes which had previously seemed dull.

Mark Tyrell, crook de luxe, was fearful and dumbfounded. Stark terror gripped him as he stared into the transformed face before him. He was helpless against the enemy who confronted him.

Powers Jordan — the man whose murder Tyrell had came to prepare — was The Shadow!