The Chinese Disks

CHAPTER V. PEOPLE OF THE PAST

TOMBLIKE darkness enshrouded a silent room. The place was filled with uncanny silence. Such was the atmosphere within the sanctum of The Shadow. A strange, unknown abode, situated somewhere in Manhattan. The sanctum seemed to await the arrival of the only being who might enter through its hidden portals.

A swish sounded in the darkness. That sound would not have been audible elsewhere. The Shadow had reached his strange abode. A click sounded from a corner. A bluish light glimmered upon the top of a polished table.

Usually, The Shadow remained at this corner. To-night, his plan was different. His cloak swished away from the limited sphere of light. A click sounded in another corner. A second light glimmered. It was focused upon the front of a tall steel filing cabinet.

Long white hands opened a drawer. From one finger glimmered a resplendent gem. That stone was The Shadow’s girasol, a rare fire-opal that he wore as a sole emblem of identity. The jewel sparkled as the left hand stopped upon a folder that bore the name “Farwell.”

The Shadow withdrew this folder and carried it through darkness to the table. From its interior, he drew out typewritten sheets and laid them on the table. The folder had sides like a portfolio, so that no objects could drop from it. Digging deep, The Shadow brought forth a small envelope. He tore it open. A small object fell out and plunked upon the table.

It was a Chinese disk. Its size, its appearance, its very metal were identical with the disk that Joe Cardona had shown to Commissioner Barth. The Shadow laughed softly as he noted the typed name upon the little envelope that had contained the disk. The name was “Wang Foo.”

The Shadow spread out a report sheet that bore the heading “Diamond Bert.” Again the soft laugh.

Despite the variety of names involved, The Shadow was considering a single person: “Diamond Bert” Farwell, alias Wang Foo.

Years had passed since The Shadow had dealt with Diamond Bert. In his battles with that law breaker, The Shadow had faced one of the craftiest of crooks. Diamond Bert had gone in for robbery in a big way. His prizes had been rare gems.

Aided by underlings, Diamond Bert had perpetrated crime after crime. All the while, he had remained under cover. To reach him, The Shadow had been forced to fight with minions who knew no limit.

Murder had meant nothing to the tools of Diamond Bert.

At the finish, The Shadow had entered the lair of the master crook. Guised as one of Diamond Bert’s henchmen, he had met the evildoer face to face. Like The Shadow, Diamond Bert had been disguised.

When The Shadow uncovered him, the crook was passing as a Chinaman, under the name of Wang Foo. [1]

Death would have been a fair fate for Diamond Bert. Yet The Shadow had not delivered it.

Circumstances had tricked The Shadow. Joe Cardona and a squad of detectives had entered for the climax. The Shadow, to protect his own identity, had been forced to depart, leaving Diamond Bert in the hands of the law.

That had ended the character of Wang Foo. By rights, Diamond Bert Farwell should have gone to the chair. He had dealt heavily in murder; and justice should have demanded its toll. But the law had failed to pin a single death upon the slippery crook. Caught with stolen gems in his possession, Diamond Bert had taken a ten-year rap.

THESE facts appeared upon the papers which The Shadow was studying. Reports included the events of Diamond Bert’s subsequent career. Up in the big house, the crook had become a model prisoner.

Adapting himself to circumstances, he had gone on good behavior. His term had been shortened.

According to the data on The Shadow’s table, Diamond Bert was almost due for release from the penitentiary.

A clipping appeared among the other notations. It was pasted to a large sheet of paper. The Shadow scanned its lines. It told of a new experiment at the State prison. This consisted of a shop in which privileged inmates were allowed a restricted amount of freedom, as a reward for good behavior.

In that shop, their numbers were forgotten. They went by their names and worked at tables, lined up in alphabetical order. According to the clipping, the experiment was proving a success. To The Shadow, the presence of this clipping in Farwell’s file meant something more. It indicated that Diamond Bert was working in the privileged shop.

Papers went back into the portfolio. Also the little envelope. One object alone remained, held between The Shadow’s fingers. That was the disk of Wang Foo, the token that linked past and present. Years ago, this disk with its significant character had been the amulet carried by all who served Diamond Bert Farwell.

As Wang Foo, Diamond Bert had gained many connections. Some in Chinatown; others in the realm of crookdom. Did the reappearance of this disk mean that some one had stolen a leaf from Diamond Bert’s notebook? Or did it mean that Diamond Bert was coming back to crime?

The Shadow’s soft laugh gave the answer. Had the disks bobbed up a few years ago, the theory that new crooks were copying Diamond Bert’s ways would have been tenable. But disks had not appeared until the present. Moreover, those who carried them were keeping under cover. Thus The Shadow took the second theory.

Diamond Bert was coming in again. Somehow, his henchmen were gathering. New recruits were being added to a hidden gang. Cardona had been right about the death of Duff Corley. The scrawny mobster had been bumped because he had double-crossed the gang.

All was to be kept under cover until the word for crime was passed. That would come in the near future, when Diamond Bert emerged from the big house.

The disk disappeared from the light. The Shadow was pocketing it beneath his coat. It would be useful should he encounter members of the hidden band. But The Shadow lingered by the table; his silence told that he was seeking a plan of action.

TO deal with Diamond Bert’s scattered minions would be an up-hill task. It offered problems which The Shadow had confronted in the past. The real game was to reach the brain himself. Once freed from prison walls, Diamond Bert would be a slippery customer. The Shadow wanted to weave a web before the arch-crook gained his liberty.

That mesh required crafty spinning. It must be done so cunningly that the suspicions of the arch-crook would not be aroused. For if The Shadow entangled Diamond Bert too promptly, his minions — carriers of the disks — would be alarmed. Scurrying for cover, they would still remain a powerful band.

A group without a leader. The Shadow had encountered such organizations in the past. He knew what happened in cases of that sort. Bands of crooks did not disintegrate when the big shot was eliminated.

Invariably, some new head stepped into the picture and took up where the other had left off.

This was a situation that The Shadow wished to avoid. His one course was to deal with Diamond Bert.

Enmesh the big shot; then strike down upon the unsuspecting minions. Here was a plan worthy of The Shadow’s craft. Yet it presented problems.

The Shadow needed an agent. One who could pass by prison walls. One who could watch Diamond Bert during the coming weeks. One who could perform his task reliably and well. Long minutes passed; then, of a sudden, The Shadow’s laugh arose in sinister whisper.

Sweeping up the folder that lay upon the table, The Shadow crossed the sanctum. He reached the filing cabinet and stopped by the opened drawer. Folders were separated at the spot from which The Shadow had removed the Farwell file.

There, by remarkable coincidence, rested the answer to The Shadow’s problem. As The Shadow replaced the folder that bore the name of Farwell, he lifted the portfolio that was next in line. This one bore the name of Farrow. Farrow — Farwell — the two names were right together in their natural alphabetical arrangement.

The Shadow carried the Farrow file back to the table. He opened it and let the papers slide forth. Then, in methodical fashion, he began to read the reports that concerned a man named Slade Farrow.

Oddly, The Shadow’s observations of Slade Farrow had begun within prison walls. The coincidence was remarkable. Slade Farrow had been “in stir” some time ago; but crime had not put him within the confines of a cell. Slade Farrow had gone to prison to right a wrong.

Released from the penitentiary, Slade Farrow had visited the town of Southfield. Aided by crooks who had gone straight, Farrow had made astonishing revelations concerning big men in Southfield. He had waged war against them. He had exposed them as crooks. He had done his part for justice. Yet he would have failed but for The Shadow’s hidden aid. It was The Shadow who had finally brought doom to the men of evil whom Farrow had brought to light. [2]

Slade Farrow owed a big debt to The Shadow. He was the type of man who would repay the obligation, once given the chance to do so. Here was the opportunity. The Shadow laughed softly as he found a paper that bore Slade Farrow’s present address.

The folder closed. The Shadow took it back to the filing cabinet and replaced it just beyond the Farwell file. He turned out the light and went back to the table. Producing pen and paper, The Shadow inscribed a note in ink of vivid blue.

As soon as the fluid had dried, The Shadow folded the sheet and thrust it in an envelope. Using another pen, he wrote Slade Farrow’s name and address in ink of a darker hue. That done, the envelope disappeared beneath The Shadow’s cloak.

The light clicked out. A whispered laugh echoed through the sanctum; its rising tones broke with a quavering mockery. Echoes lisped their answer from the pitch-black walls. Then came silence. Amid the reverberations of his uncanny laugh, The Shadow had departed from his hidden abode.