The Fate Joss

CHAPTER XIV THE LOOKOUT POST

IT was approximately midnight when Noy Dow and Loy Ming had completed the arrangements that insured the departure of the prisoners from Doctor Tam’s. At the same hour, The Shadow was ready to fare forth from the hiding place where he kept the Fate Joss.

Sounds from the outer room of the old garage had told him that Hawkeye and Jericho had arrived to begin a long watch. The Shadow, blinking his flashlight, made a final survey of the Fate Joss and the War Dogs.

Stooping by one of the squatty cannons, The Shadow examined the plug within the muzzle. He did the same with the second weapon. Extinguishing his light, he departed silently through the darkness. He left Harry Vincent’s coupe parked where it was. Unlocking the outer door, The Shadow blended with darkness.

Soon after that, a light gleamed in The Shadow’s sanctum. Reaching for earphones, The Shadow formed contact with Burbank. He gave brief commands.

“Instructions to Hawkeye,” stated The Shadow. “He and Jericho to take quarters in the room with the Joss. To remain there until notified that Vincent and Marsland are ready to relieve them.”

“Instructions received,” came Burbank’s response.

“Emergency precautions have been arranged,” added The Shadow. “Give Hawkeye full details of steps to take in case of an attack, in accordance with instructions that you have already received.”

An affirmative response from Burbank. The light clicked off. The Shadow departed from his sanctum. There was time, even yet, for a visit to another place. The Shadow was on his way to see Yat Soon, the arbiter.

TEEMING Chinatown still glimmered, even after the midnight hour. Gawking tourists strolled past buzzing clusters of Orientals. Uniformed police maintained their reinforced patrol. The Shadow, however, skirted the thicker regions. Using every device to avoid spying eyes, he reached the entrance that led into Yat Soon’s. Once past the portal, The Shadow threaded his way to the arbiter’s reception room.

Yat Soon received him in the inner chamber. Greetings exchanged, the arbiter studied The Shadow with inquiring eyes. Then Yat Soon spoke.

“Of the Fate Joss I know naught,” remarked Yat Soon, cryptically. “My hope, honored friend, is that the idol is held by good hands. Should such be the case, I do not need to know. I, the arbiter, am sometimes forced to speak when I am questioned. What I, Yat Soon, have not heard, I do not have to tell to any one.”

The inference was plain. Yat Soon had decided that it was best for him to remain unacquainted with The Shadow’s actions. Such was the arbiter’s confidence in his black-clad visitor.

“I have learned, however,” resumed Yat Soon, “that two have sought the Fate Joss. One has come to me, with a just claim. He brought me this, did Shan Kwan the Mandarin.”

Yat Soon passed Roucard’s receipt to The Shadow. The cloaked visitor spoke in Chinese; Yat Soon nodded his affirmation. The Shadow, too, was suggesting that Hoang Fu had taken the money from Roucard.

“Such is my belief,” stated Yat Soon.

Again, The Shadow spoke. The arbiter’s eyes opened wide. He was learning, from The Shadow’s lips, that Roucard had held the fifty thousand dollars. He was hearing the details of The Shadow’s first struggle with Hoang Fu.

Then came new details: those of The Shadow’s fight at Laudring’s. Once more Yat Soon nodded, as he heard of the attack which had finally resulted in the death of the Chinese giant.

“Hoang Fu was evil,” decided Yat Soon. “His death was a deserved one. I, Yat Soon, have spoken.”

The Shadow made no further statement. Of the Fate Joss, he had said nothing. Yat Soon smiled wisely; then his sage face sobered. He spoke in English.

“Hoang Fu was the servant of one Doctor Tam,” he declared. “That fact was known to Shan Kwan; it was known to me, as well. There are many who have served Doctor Tam. All have chosen — by serving him — to forget the ways of China. Of those others, slain on the night when Hoang Fu died, some are known to have served Doctor Tam.

“My task is to find Doctor Tam; to learn of his abode; to be ready to call upon him for speech, in answer to the claim of Shan Kwan the Mandarin. Yet Doctor Tam, in forsaking the ways of his native land, has chosen not to recognize the authority that I, Yat Soon, possess.

“Should I send a servant to Doctor Tam, nothing could be gained. Doctor Tam would not listen to the messenger of Yat Soon. Yet Doctor Tam must be reached — by some one to whom he will speak.”

YAT SOON’S eyes were steady. His suggestion carried the inference that he would welcome The Shadow’s aid. After a momentary pause, Yat Soon added:

“The one who will seek Doctor Tam shall have my aid. Yet that seeker will be allowed to act as he may choose. He may delay his visit to Doctor Tam until such time as he may deem best.”

There was depth to Yat Soon’s statement. The arbiter had guessed that The Shadow might be holding the Fate Joss, intending to dispose of it. If such were the case, Yat Soon decided, The Shadow might wish to wait until the shipment had been made, before attempting a move against any one concerned in crime that involved the idol.

Yat Soon’s guess was a good one. It fitted with The Shadow’s actual plans. Therefore, it brought a question, uttered in Chinese, that indicated The Shadow’s willingness to cooperate with the arbiter. Yat Soon nodded as he heard The Shadow speak; then replied:

“You have asked how I, Yat Soon, can be aided, since I do not know the abode of Doctor Tam. I shall answer by telling of something that I have learned, within the hours since Shan Kwan the Mandarin did leave my presence.

“I have learned that Doctor Tam was seen on two nights, passing through the quiet street whereon the empty curio shop of Kao Dwin is located. It was Kao Dwin who saw Doctor Tam. For Kao Dwin, since he has closed his business, has been in my employ.

“I sent for Kao Dwin, in hope that he might tell me news. I was fortunate to learn what he had seen. Tonight, at this very hour, Kao Dwin is in his empty shop. From behind its windows, he is watching the street.

“I have told Kao Dwin that another may soon join him, bearing a token from myself, Yat Soon. Should you choose to watch with Kao Dwin, that token shall be yours.”

The Shadow spoke agreement. Yat Soon bowed. He opened a panel and showed a large closet filled with clothes of American and Chinese pattern. He pointed to a dressing table, where wigs and make-up box were ready. Leaving The Shadow, Yat Soon went to the outer room and closed the portal behind him.

A DOZEN minutes later, The Shadow stepped from Yat Soon’s inner room. He was no longer cloaked in black. Instead, he was wearing dark trousers of an American cut, with a loose tunic of Chinese style. Over this, he had a large jacket; his features, fully in view, were those of a Chinese.

Yat Soon blinked at the excellence of the make-up. He noted a hawk-like characteristic of the yellowed face before him; yet The Shadow’s expression was so bland and solemn that it offset any American resemblance. The wig that The Shadow wore seemed part of his own head. When he donned an old felt hat, he looked like a typical resident of the Chinese quarter.

The Shadow was carrying a bag. He handed it to Yat Soon, who nodded and spoke.

“It is wise,” declared the arbiter, “that Kao Dwin should come for this. Kao Dwin is known to those of Chinatown. None would be suspicious seeing him leave the abode of Yat Soon. None would be so unwise to follow or molest Yat Soon’s servant.

“One who is unknown must be cautious.” Yat Soon’s tone was significant as he eyed The Shadow. “As one unknown, you must leave this place as secretly as you came. Here is your token,” — he handed The Shadow a curious signet ring that bore a Chinese character — “and with it, you can meet Kao Dwin. The rear door of his closed shop is open. Enter there; when challenged, speak the name of Yat Soon; then show the token.”

Yat Soon pressed a switch; a panel opened in the outer wall. The Shadow left by this exit and chose a threading course that led him to the street. His course did not lead him through the entrance by which he had come to see Yat Soon. Instead, it brought him to a guarded portal that was opened by a solemn, bowing Mongol.

Stepping from a short blind alley, The Shadow joined Chinamen who were passing back and forth along the street. He was not far from the chief corner of Mott and Pell; he avoided that crossing and picked a less frequented thoroughfare. Yet in his brief passage, The Shadow had noted the sidelong looks of various Chinese.

Rumor was rife here in Chinatown. Many eyes were suspicious; and although none took The Shadow for other than a Chinaman, there were those who picked him as a stranger. As on that night when Raymond Roucard had left Shan Kwan’s, there were men of this quarter who studied the yellow face of the stranger from Yat Soon’s.

High-pitched voices babbled from a group that The Shadow passed. Men were in argument; their words — even to one who knew Chinese — seemed insignificant. Yet that short outcry could well have been a signal for men beyond. The Shadow heard the dispute; turning into a narrow darkened street, he crossed his hands against his tunic and lowered his head.

Both actions were typical of a Chinaman; The Shadow used them to render his way obscure. Yet even with such natural action, he was at a disadvantage in his present garb. His course became shifty, but not elusive, as it would have been had he retained his cloak of black.

Changing pace: first quick, then slow, The Shadow trekked along the gloomy street. He saw shady figures passing; others loitering. He reached the entrance of an alleyway. There he paused suddenly; then performed a sudden, twisting leap that carried him backward and half across the street.

The quick move was timely. From a forward-springing form had come an upswung arm. A long knife slithered through the haze. Its whizzing blade skimmed inches wide of its mark — that Chinese figure that was The Shadow. An assassin had thrust from darkness, only to miss.

AS the blade point clashed against a brick wall, The Shadow whirled about. His yellow-stained hands flashed out from beneath his jacket. His turn around was another timely move. A trio of murderous Chinese were springing from a doorway, with knives in hand that they hoped to drive into the back of the man whom their fellow thug had missed.

Close together, these rogues kept tight grip on their dirks, intending to down their victim by a mass attack. A dozen feet separated them from The Shadow; they were hissing their belief of triumph as they plunged forward. But they were met by stabs that came quicker than any knife thrust.

Automatics boomed a greeting. Tongues of flame were withering. One attacker staggered; his cry told that he had been clipped. The second sprawled headlong at The Shadow’s feet. The third surged on, despite the close-ranged blast that should have stopped him. He thrust his knife mechanically; but The Shadow sidestepped the stroke. The Chinaman’s hurtling body rammed The Shadow’s shoulder. Both rolled to the curb.

The knife-flinger from the alley had drawn another blade. As he poised to hurl it, an automatic flashed quick shots from the paving. Wildly, the would-be assassin dived back into the alley. Though The Shadow had gained no time for proper aim, his bullets made the foe show preference for flight.

The man who had staggered was scrambling away along the street, clutching a wounded arm. The one who had fallen at The Shadow’s feet was motionless; he had driven too deep into the barrage from The Shadow’s guns. The third man, though he had taken greater brunt, was still stirring as The Shadow rose. Mortally wounded, the fellow was babbling phrases in Chinese.

Stooping, The Shadow stared into glassy eyes. He made sharp queries; his fierce gaze forced answers from the dying assassin’s lips. Choppy though the sentences were, The Shadow caught odd words from the babble. He demanded further utterance. The Chinaman’s eyes narrowed; his lips tightened.

The police whistles were shrilling. Shouts were coming from the ends of the street. Yet The Shadow persisted in his effort to make the Chinaman talk. Glazed eyes opened. Weakly, wearily, the foeman talked, as if his resistance had fully sagged. The Shadow had demanded his identity. This time the Chinaman spoke in English.

“Toian!” he gasped his name. “Me — Toian! Toian Soi! Doctor tell me — tell me to come here. Doctor Tam — Doctor Roy Tam—”

Nightsticks were clattering on sidewalks. Bluecoats, having signaled their companions, were charging into the gloomy street. Now whistles were shrilling; footsteps were pounding closer, on the run. Toian Soi could gasp no longer. His lips had straightened, closed forever.

Rising, The Shadow sprang away from the man’s body. A gleaming flashlight showed his yellowed face. Arriving police gave shouts for him to stop. Instead, The Shadow dashed across the street, into the alley opposite. Revolvers barked; their fire came too late to stop that fleeing figure.

HOURS later, patrolmen still made search of this terrain. The pals of Toian Soi had escaped before their advent; they were looking only for a tall, limber Chinaman who had escaped their closing cordon. They believed that he, too, must be a member of the band.

The police found no sign of their quarry, even though they patrolled far and searched in many places. Some of them passed through the street in front of Kao Dwin’s closed curio shop. It was there that the one they sought saw them, without their knowledge.

The Shadow had completed his journey, unchallenged and unfollowed. Through the slits of closed windows, he was keeping vigil with Kao Dwin, waiting for the law to end its futile search. For The Shadow believed it possible that another was lingering also, ready to enter that street once the police were gone.

The Shadow was on the lookout for Doctor Roy Tam. He was maintaining vigil for the very man who had trapped his agents, even though he did not yet know of the part that Doctor Tam had played. In a sense, however, the game had been evened. Doctor Tam, still absent, remained unaware that his prisoners were gone.

The Shadow, as the hunter, was watching for a secret trapper who had already lost his prey!