The Crime Master

CHAPTER VIII THE SHADOW’S CLUE

IT was the second night after the raid upon the Titan Trust. Crime was in abeyance. Newspapers screamed the news of the successful foray. The underworld was still troublous beneath its calmed surface. Tension — not action — prevailed.

In all the dives of the badlands, there were no signs of the mysterious mobster who had been garbed in black sweater. The strange observer had disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived.

The Shadow had sensed the coming situation. He had gained inkling of the methods whereby The Crime Master was controlling forces of the underworld. He knew that a big job like the robbery of the Titan Trust Company would be followed by a lull.

The Crime Master, no matter how great his hidden power, would be at fault in his strategy should he strike again while turmoil still persisted. Though the supercrook might actually govern an invisible empire of crime, his thrust, if over frequent, could prove disastrous.

One stroke; then plans for new evil, while weak points were being strengthened — such was the invariable law that ganglords must obey. The Crime Master, whose giant intellect had accomplished a merger of gangland’s forces, would certainly follow this process.

Hence The Shadow had departed from the underworld. He had no need to be there, while speculation, alone, was the talk in gangster hangouts. Stool pigeons, recovering from their temerity, were back on the job, trying to glean information for the police. Their task would be a futile one, since crime had already been accomplished.

The Shadow, when he mapped campaigns against crime, chose measures which matched those of his hidden foemen. This was the work that engaged him for the present. On this night, forty-eight hours after his encounter with Trigger Maddock, the master sleuth was contemplating a stroke of his own.

A light was burning in a black-walled room. Bluish rays shone on the polished surface of a table. White hands, living things that extended from blackness, were at work. A glimmering gem — The Shadow’s girasol — sparkled from a tapering finger. Its iridescent hues, changing in constant procession, seemed to reflect the mystery of The Shadow himself.

The Shadow was in his sanctum. While his hand inscribed names upon a sheet of paper, his eyes, peering from darkness, studied the written columns. A soft laugh came in sibilant tones from the gloom on the near side of the table.

A STRANGE contrast! Somewhere in Manhattan, secluded in his paneled room, The Crime Master, wizened and gray-haired, was placing pawnlike pieces upon a many-squared board. Meanwhile The Shadow, within his shrouded sanctum, was planning methods to defeat the supercrook.

Hidden foemen! The Shadow, lone wolf of action, who used but a handful of trusted agents; The Crime Master, generalissimo of evil, relying upon massed hordes organized into a mighty fighting body!

Which would win?

Could The Shadow, by his daggerlike thrusts defeat this genius who could order forth a phalanx of fighting gunmen? Or would The Crime Master, precise in his maneuvers, prepared for all emergencies, down the hidden being who sought to thwart him?

The answer lay in the balance. Never before had The Shadow encountered an enemy who had risen to such swift prominence. Never before had either The Shadow or the law been faced by an organizer who had brought all gangdom beneath his domination.

The Shadow had observed The Crime Master’s strength. He was reckoning it upon the sheet before him. Names of gangleaders, small and large, were in The Shadow’s list. Through observation in the underworld, The Shadow had gained the names of all whom he suspected as members of The Crime Master’s huge organization.

Often had The Shadow battled with powerful mobleaders. Sometimes, he had thrown opposing bands into conflict. He had also indicated courses which the law had followed. Unwittingly, police had often taken The Shadow’s lead. But here, The Shadow saw the futility of former measures. Should he attack any point of The Crime Master’s organized structure, the rest would come battling down upon his head. Secrecy, to date, had been The Shadow’s strongest weapon.

The Crime Master’s strength could not be discounted. The Shadow’s hand had completed its listing. Dozens of names — those of dangerous underworld characters — were before The Shadow’s eyes. Yet the whispered laugh came shuddering through the sanctum. In strength, The Shadow had spied weakness.

Rapidly, his hand began to form another list. This one, in a column of its own, was brief. It carried the names of half a dozen mobleaders of considerable repute. These, to a man, were not members of The Crime Master’s chain.

Why?

The Shadow had the answer. He wrote a single name above the brief column:

This name was The Shadow’s key. “Eagle” Tabrick was a crafty big shot. He was one who had long played a cagey game. Crime, racketeering, shady, crafty swindles — these were the triangle of Eagle Tabrick’s career.

Shifting from one practice to another, allowing intervals between his thrusts, Eagle Tabrick had long baffled the law by his cleverness. It was known that he ruled certain factions in the underworld; yet nothing had been definitely pinned upon him. The police had suspected six mobleaders to be lieutenants under Eagle. The Shadow, more thorough than the police, had definitely proved the connection.

These aids of Eagle Tabrick were represented by the six name list which The Shadow had formed. With Eagle as their chief, they formed a band which was unique; hence The Shadow’s laugh. Not one of the seven — chief or lieutenants — could be identified with The Crime Master’s organization.

This was important. The Crime Master, to control the underworld to perfection, must hold complete sway. Yet it was evident, from The Shadow’s findings, that he had not yet gained Eagle Tabrick as a vassal.

Six mobleaders — all would follow Eagle’s word so long as he commanded them. Hence, during this lull in the underworld, The Crime Master had a task which must be performed. To be secure, he would have to gain feudal power over Eagle’s small but well-organized group.

Two methods were possible. They represented extremes of action. One would be for The Crime Master to treat with Eagle. The other would be to eliminate Eagle. By either system, The Crime Master could force the six lieutenants into line.

In either plan, one fact was obvious. Through some agency, The Crime Master must reach Eagle Tabrick. Whether by friendly approach or by malicious action, there would be contact. To The Crime Master, the present must be most opportune.

Through his display of strength, The Crime Master had subjugated the underworld. He had won a mighty victory against the law. The capitulation of Eagle Tabrick would be an unparalleled triumph that would impress gangdom even more than the culmination of new crime.

A TINY light glowed suddenly from the wall beyond the table. The Shadow’s hands moved forward. They produced a pair of earphones. The instruments moved upward, toward The Shadow’s head. His whispered voice spoke from the gloom. A voice responded over the wire:

“Burbank speaking.”

“Report.”

“Report from Marsland. Back from a round. No sign of Eagle’s men. All keeping under cover.”

“Report received.”

A pause. Through Burbank, his contact man, The Shadow had gained word from Cliff Marsland, an agent who patrolled the underworld. Cliff’s report meant that none of Eagle’s six lieutenants had been in evidence at any dive frequented by crooks of their importance. This was significant. More was to follow.

Burbank spoke:

“Report from Burke.”

“Report.”

“Eagle Tabrick has not left his apartment. Constant observation by Burke since noon. No one has entered.”

“Report received.”

The earphones clattered across the table. The little bulb went out. The hands moved from beneath the bluish rays. A click from above; the sanctum was plunged in darkness.

The swish of The Shadow’s cloak came faintly through the solid blackness. A whispered laugh rose to a weird crescendo. It broke; then ended abruptly. Echoes came in answer, gibbering mockery from shrouded walls.

The ghoulish reverberations ended. The room was silent. Those echoes, dying into nothingness, had marked The Shadow’s departure. The sanctum was empty. Its sole visitant had fared forth into the night.

The Shadow had foreseen a move of The Crime Master. He knew that Eagle Tabrick must have reason for laying low. There was only one person whose opposition could keep Eagle under cover. That one was The Crime Master.

The Shadow was planning to attack the emperor of evil. He wanted evidence that would point to coming crime. He had found a way through which important information might be gained.

Following the clue which he had sifted, The Shadow was bound on an important mission. He was on his way to pay an unseen visit to the abode of Eagle Tabrick.