The Crime Clinic

CHAPTER XII CARDONA PERSISTS

WHILE The Shadow, in his sanctum, was studying reports that were bringing him closer to The Jackdaw’s trail, Joe Cardona, in his office at headquarters, was gloomily considering the situation that he faced.

Ever since he had been forced to take Doctor Lysander Dubrong’s bitter gibes, Cardona had been seeking a comeback. He had realized fully that Dubrong was too clever for him. In that realization, however, Joe had reached a definite and startling conclusion.

The detective was sure that someone had spotted him while he had been in Doctor Dubrong’s waiting room; that the physician had known the identity of his bewhiskered patient all during the clinic hours.

In proof of this, Cardona cited to himself the fact that Dubrong had departed from usual procedure by letting a patient into the consulting room after the one-o’clock deadline. Cardona, therefore, had tried to figure who had tipped off Dubrong to the fact that a detective was close by.

In his two-hour waiting period at the clinic, Cardona had studied the patients there. One, only, had aroused his keen suspicion. That was the man whom he had encountered at the outer door, the shuffling cripple called Limps Silvey.

Was there collusion between Limps and Dubrong? Cardona had determined to find that out. He had, accordingly, put stool pigeons watching Limps. So far, their findings had been meager.

Limps had appeared only at intervals. He had revisited the East Side Clinic; he had been seen wandering about the streets at night. He had also shown a proclivity for passing out of sight in a hurry.

With another evening arriving, Joe Cardona was angry at this lack of action. He wanted to get close on Limps Silvey’s trail. He was positive that the frail, twisted man served Dubrong in some important capacity.

The telephone began to ring. Cardona picked up the instrument. He recognized the voice of one of his stool pigeons. The words came in an eager, whining tone.

“I’m wise to this guy Limps,” the stool was saying. “He’s been duckin’ us cute until just now. I’ll tell you where he is — he’s sneakin’ in an’ out from Bing Claver’s joint. He’s there now, an’ I think he’s goin’ to stay a while.”

“O.K.,” ordered Cardona briskly. “Stick there until I show up.”

DUSK had settled. Cardona scorned disguise. He felt that he could trail Limps Silvey under cover of night.

He started out from headquarters. A while later, he appeared by the decadent alley where the side entrance to Bing Claver’s apartment was located.

It was darkening; the stool pigeons sneaked out and whispered as they saw the detective. Joe heard their words. Apparently, Limps Silvey had suddenly dropped his usual crafty tactics. Off his guard, the stools had trailed him. Joe dismissed the stools and took up watch alone.

Usually stolid, Joe Cardona was anxious tonight. He had cause to be. The blind lead on the Casslin murder — nothing had developed from the Hindu theory — had brought criticism from Police Commissioner Weston.

Cardona had been forced to keep silent on the point concerning The Jackdaw. Had he brought in the idea of an anonymous crook, a masquerader in the underworld, Weston would have been enraged. The commissioner branded all such unknown characters as myths.

Yet Cardona was sure that The Jackdaw existed. He had a real hunch that the king of thieves had slain Rutherford Casslin. Clews had failed at the millionaire’s mansion. The dead body in the tower was still an unexplained mystery. The answer lay in uncovering The Jackdaw himself.

Cardona was relying upon one basic fact. Scoffy had told him that The Jackdaw had henchmen among gangsters. One of these, Bennie Lizzit, had been slain with Scoffy himself. Where gunmen were employed, there was usually a leader. Now, for the first time, Cardona had an inkling of who the gang chief might be: Bing Claver.

This was a real achievement. Bing Claver, a dominating gorilla who had apparently retired from crime, was just the type of gangster whom The Jackdaw might choose to command his crew of torpedoes. Limps Silvey would also be an excellent go-between. Cardona saw the link he wanted: a possible hook-up between Doctor Lysander Dubrong and Bing Claver.

Long minutes passed while Cardona waited in reflection. Suddenly, the detective became alert. He saw a shaft of light in the alleyway; then a slinking figure coming in his direction. He recognized Limps, and eased back into the cover of a deserted doorway, as he watched the shuffling man approach.

Apparently, Limps had no idea that anyone was watching him. The frail hobbler turned along the street, and Cardona took up his trail. The detective, his overcoat up around his neck, was watching closely every time that Limps threw a sidelong glance.

So concerned was Cardona in watching the man ahead that he never thought to look in back. Thus he had no idea that he, too, was being followed. It would have gained Cardona nothing, however, to have glanced backward. He would not have caught even a glimpse of the one who was on his trail.

For the third member of this trio that was advancing along a dilapidated street was one who moved with the silence of the growing night itself. No sign of his form was visible; only an occasional patch of sidewalk blackness betokened his strange presence.

The Shadow, fresh from his sanctum, had come to this section of the underworld. Unseen, unsuspected, he was watching the pursuit ahead: Joe Cardona on the trail of Limps Silvey.

SHUFFLING down another thoroughfare, Limps stopped in front of a dilapidated store. He looked craftily about him. Joe Cardona was almost caught flat-footed; but he leaned back against a wall. Limps must have missed him; for the cripple showed no concern. He hobbled into the store.

Joe Cardona approached and looked through a grimy window. He crouched against the wall, and suppressed a chuckle. He was in luck. He had seen Limps Silvey.

The shuffler had gone into the store to telephone; and the coin box, although secluded in the store itself, was within three feet of the window. Moreover, a pane was broken from the window and Joe, as he listened, could hear the clicking of the dial as Limps rang up a number.

As before, Cardona was intent upon his objective. He gave no thought to anything else about him. He did not sense the presence of The Shadow, as the black-garbed follower came closer. Stationed but a few feet away, pressed beside a projection of the building, The Shadow, like Cardona, was listening in on Limps Silvey.

The cripple’s voice was a husky one; although lowered, it could plainly be heard. Limps had obtained his number. He was talking.

“All gettin’ ready for tonight,” Limps was saying. “I’m goin’ to duck out of town, see?… Yeah — after I look over the lay… An’ if it’s all right, I’m just goin’ to lose myself. But if it ain’t all right, I’ll give you the tip… I’ll tell you where I’ll be… Yeah, out in Corona… When it comes ten o’clock, I’ll be hangin’ out at the Derry Cafe, near the “L” station… Ring up there, when you’re ready to go… You can tell me what you’re plannin’ then — which job you’re goin’ to grab tonight… O.K. - here’s the number” — Limps paused to consult a crumpled sheet of paper — “Seabright 0664… Got it? O.K…”

Limps shuffled away from the telephone. He came from the store, and headed for the corner after a glance in both directions. Cardona paused; then started in pursuit.

At the corner, he glimpsed Limps beneath a street lamp, halfway down the block. The twisted man was hobbling away with remarkable swiftness.

For a moment, Cardona was tempted to halt his quarry. His fist tightened on his pocket revolver. At that moment, Limps slid into an alleyway. Cardona started forward at a quick pace. He reached the spot where the man had disappeared.

Peering down the alleyway, Joe could see no sign of Limps. The narrow path ran between houses to another street. There were lights above, in house windows. To his chagrin, Cardona realized that Limps had given him the slip.

Standing on the sidewalk, Cardona considered what to do next. He thought of going back to Bing Claver’s. He paused as he contemplated.

It would be a mistake to talk to Bing. If the gang leader planned an expedition tonight, particularly one in The Jackdaw’s service, a challenging visit from a detective would amount to nothing more than a warning.

It was obvious that mobsters planned a foray; their destination was not known, but it would be mentioned to Limps Silvey over the telephone at the number in Corona. That was the place to be stationed. Cardona saw opportunities ahead.

Nevertheless, he was wise enough to figure on more than one trail. Nearly half an hour had elapsed since he had left the alleyway by Bing’s apartment. Cardona decided it would be worth while to take another look back there.

SWINGING on his heel, the detective headed back the way that he had come. This time there was no sinister presence bringing up the rear. The Shadow had disappeared with the same promptitude as Limps Silvey.

When Cardona reached Bing Claver’s alley, he noted that the side of the rickety apartment building was black. The upstairs lights — Cardona had observed them previously — had been extinguished.

A stool pigeon shuffled out of the darkness. The man whined a message in a low voice as he stood beside Cardona. The detective grunted as he heard it.

“Seen Bing Claver,” informed the stool. “He come out just after Limps scrammed. Don’t know where he went, though. Kinda afraid to follow Bing, I was.”

“All right,” growled Cardona. “Beat it. Call me up if you spot either one of them.”

Joe Cardona, as he stalked away, still found himself wondering what had become of Limps Silvey. The detective decided that no one, no matter how clever, could have trailed that quick-moving hobbler. In this surmise, Cardona was in error.

Limps Silvey was being trailed, by one who moved with silence as well as swiftness. At that moment, Limps, heading for the darkness of a blind alley, did not realize that anyone was close at hand. Even Limps, clever though he was, did not spy the obscure form of The Shadow.

With noiseless cane, Limps slipped into the darkness. Keen eyes followed him; keen ears heard the soft closing of a door. A whispered laugh followed. The Shadow was standing by the entrance to the cul-de-sac where he had trailed Limps before. This time he had spotted the door which Limps had used. The cripple had entered through the secret way to Doctor Lysander Dubrong’s consulting room.

Swiftly, The Shadow glided from the spot. His silent strides carried him on a roundabout course beyond the alley where Bing Claver lived. Suddenly, The Shadow stopped; under the projecting top of a battered brick wall, he peered keenly as he heard footsteps on the other side of the street.

Through the gloom loomed Joe Cardona. The detective was pounding his way back to headquarters. His steady gait, his bent shoulders, both were tokens of his lack of success. The Shadow knew that Joe Cardona had learned nothing more.

Yet Joe Cardona was not defeated. Out of this evening’s effort, he had gained one thing which might prove vital to the plans that lay ahead. He had learned the number where Limps Silvey would be expecting a telephone call. It was one bet that the detective could play

That Cardona would stake much on that chance was certain. The Shadow knew Cardona’s only possible plan. As the detective’s footsteps faded, a soft laugh began to rise; clipped abruptly during its crescendo, it dwindled to a sobbing sigh of merriment that was suppressed beneath the overhanging wall.

There was a presagement in The Shadow’s laugh; a foreknowledge of the events that were to come. The Shadow knew the part that Limps Silvey was playing in the approaching drama.

He had made a study of The Jackdaw’s minions. All were scheduled for work this night. The Shadow’s challenge, however, reached beyond the underlings. The Jackdaw himself was the game The Shadow sought.