The Four Signets

CHAPTER XIX. TABLES TURN

OF all the astonished persons in that room. Zane Dolger was the most bewildered. The three philanthropists had been surprised; but their faces showed a certain understanding. To Zane, however, this denouement had come as a startling revelation.

Rescuers had arrived; but they were crooks. An evil crew had aligned itself with his cousin. For the first time, Zane realized that Perry had played a double game. Perry — a crook. The thought was numbing.

But Zane was due for another stroke of treachery.

“Keep them covered” — Perry, sneering, was pointing to the philanthropists — “and as for this guy” — a chuckle as Perry pointed to Zane — “keep a rod on him as well. The sap!”

Zane’s hands went up automatically. Other gorillas had entered. Nearly a full dozen had assembled.

Leading them, ready at Perry’s beck, were the two who had been introduced as Hoot Shelling and Greasy Karn.

“You wanted a showdown,” declared Perry. “You’ve got it! I was figuring something might happen tonight. This bunch came from the hide-out. I called them” — he paused to turn toward Zane — “when I pretended I was phoning Jackling. I told them to be here soon after nine. I called again to make sure they were on their way.

“Well, gang” — this was to the crooks in general — “we’ve come to the last job. It’s a cinch, boys! Just keep those gats ready. Spread out around the room. We’ve got a little while to wait.

“In the meantime” — he turned to the philanthropists — “I’ll tell you something. I don’t know how you three grabbed my grandfather’s dough — along with Phraytag — but I take it that you’re honest. You’re too dumb looking to be otherwise.”

Perry paused. Having revealed himself as a crook, he seemed to relish the act. He had tired of the part that he had played to dupe Zane.

“As for me,” stated Perry, proudly, “I’ve been crooked all along. Got out of France because I’m wanted for murder there. Under the name of Jacques Duross. That won’t do you any good. You won’t live to tell it.

“I’ve been everywhere — always crooked — and I came here to pick up soft dough. My grandfather’s heritage. It didn’t look so hot after I got it. Then this fool cousin of mine” — a nudge toward Zane — “found a secret room. Spotted clues that led to Philip Lyken and was sap enough to tell me.

“I knew the dough was somewhere. I followed the clue, with Zane trailing along with me. Lyken told us about Phraytag. He told us all he knew. That meant curtains for Lyken.”

Perry paused again to survey the crew of thugs who were stationed about the room. To a man, they would serve Hoot Shelling; yet Perry saw need of caution. He smiled as he proceeded.

“I KNOW the underworld of every big city,” boasted Perry. “I located Hoot in New York. Phraytag had to be bumped. I could do the job myself. But I let Hoot and his mob cover it.”

“That fellow there — Greasy Karn — did his part in the game by sawing into Lyken’s place. He and Hoot opened the way. I entered, shot Lyken, touched off the fuse. Then the explosion.”

Another laugh. It became more evil as Perry Dolger saw the contempt that had appeared on the face of his cousin, Zane.

“Greasy picked the locks at Phraytag’s. I got in there, poisoned the old fellow. That ought to interest you old chaps” — Perry turned to the philanthropists — “because he was probably one of your bunch. Well, after Phraytag was croaked, I had Greasy waiting out at the cemetery the day that old Phraytag was buried.

“It was a cinch for Greasy to open the mausoleum. I went in and got the ring. Told cousin Zane I used the caretakers key. Zane helped get the swag I wanted. From you — you three dried-up peanuts out of your shells.”

Perry paused. His eyes were fierce. He motioned for silence as his henchmen shifted. Listening, he heard no sounds. He completed his story in a low, mean voice.

“Last night” — Perry scowled — “Hoot sent three gorillas here to bump off Zane and Rowland. I intended to return. Later, I could have taken all the swag for myself. But Hoot’s gorillas failed.”

“Tonight, it’s different. I brought the full squad. Made a big catch, didn’t I? You three old fools! My sap cousin, Zane! There’s two more — walking into it. One is Rowland. Humph! He means nothing. But the other” — Perry grinned — “well, he’s a wise guy—”

The speaker paused. Footsteps were clumping down the front stairway. It sounded like two men with a heavy load. Perry Dolger, self-confessed master of crime, knew that Ed Mallan was returning with Rowland.

The footsteps moved into the front room between the hall and the library.

There was a sound of a burden being lowered. Then came louder footsteps.

Mallan was bringing Rowland back to the library.

Perry suppressed a chuckle as he motioned to his men. Gorillas covered the doorway with their gats.

Their purpose was obvious. Mallan and Rowland would be helpless the instant they entered.

Perry watched. The first to appear was the detective. He had let Rowland follow, not worrying about the docile servant. As Perry stared, he saw Mallan stop short, the moment that he entered the room.

There was a tense pause. Perry chuckled. He had Mallan. Rowland was nothing. Then Perry’s chuckle ended as a grin appeared upon the face of Ed Mallan.

The detective was not startled. To him, this was a huge joke. Mallan turned to Hoot Shelling.

“All right,” said the detective quietly. “Put ‘em up. Cover this one guy— that’s all. He’s the prize boob.”

Revolvers disappeared — some of them. But others remained in view. Those that still flashed in the fist of mobsters were pointed toward a common goal: the figure of Perry Dolger!

ED MALLAN had turned the tables. The detective’s gold grin gleamed. Zane Dolger stood astounded.

So did the three philanthropists. Hoot Shelling laughed roughly and Greasy Karn followed suit.

“A showdown,” declared Mallan. “That’s what it is! A surprise for this wise guy” — a nudge toward Perry Dolger — “who thought he was mighty smart. You want the story?”

Mallan, still ginning, swung to the philanthropists. “All right. I’ll spring it.”

The private detective paused. Ed Mallan enjoyed a triumphant climax. He had gained one. He was making the most of it.

“You know part of it to begin with,” explained Mallan, addressing Zurick, Laverock and Kent. “I saw these Dolger boys visit Lyken. So I stuck around the jeweler’s place. That night, a couple of guys cut their way in.”

“I knew the pair. Hoot Shelling and Greasy Karn. I waited. I wanted to see what happened. Well — it came. A long wait; then a big explosion. I beat it. The next day I read the newspapers. Lyken had been bumped.

“Hoot didn’t rub him out. Neither did Greasy. I knew that. They were cover-up men. Well — who did? I had an idea it was one of these Dolger fellows. Nobody else could have had a reason. One of them could have sneaked in easy after Greasy sawed those bars.

“The next night, I went around to Phraytag’s. Saw a touring car near the house, so I watched it. Out came Hoot and Greasy. They climbed aboard. I shoved into Phraytag’s place and found the old guy dead.

“Who killed him? Same guy that bumped Lyken. One of the Dolger boys. So I put in my report. When you got it” — Mallan grinned at the philanthropists— “you didn’t like it. So you fired me. Then” — the dick paused cautiously— “well, something went hooey and you had to bring me back.

“Somebody pulled a fast one on you. This guy” — a nudge at the cowering Perry — “crawled into a mausoleum and grabbed a ring. It was Greasy opened the door for him. Eh, Greasy?”

“Yeah,” answered the lock-picking expert. “But I didn’t know what he wanted.”

“Let it pass,” chuckled Mallan. “Anyway, there was a swipe after that. You gents” — he nodded to the philanthropists — “said Dolger. And I said the same. So I went out to get the swag. I’d heard Hoot and Greasy talking about a hide-out over at Zemo’s hock shop in Brooklyn. So that’s where I went. I found they’d already sent three gorillas to bump off Zane Dolger.

“Then I knew that Perry was crooked but Zane wasn’t. It was too late to stop the gang. I was sorry for this guy Zane, like I was for Lyken and Phraytag, especially because I didn’t save Lyken and Phraytag.

“But Zane Dolger got out of it. That made the rest easy. I fixed it with Hoot and Greasy to pull a fast one on Perry. ‘Do what he says,’ I told them, ‘but hold it until I walk in. Then spring the fast one on the guy.

“So you’ve got him, Mr. Zurick. There he is — Perry Dolger. Hoot and Greasy have come over with me. Tell ‘em what to do with Perry. They’re waiting for orders.”

LUCIUS ZURICK was smiling. The other two philanthropists were still amazed; but their chief was ready to act. Tersely, in commanding tones, Zurick gave his orders.

“I have shipping connections,” he announced. “Take this man” — a contemptuous wave toward Perry Dolger — “to Pier E 16, on the East River. Turn him over to Captain La Greve, of the tramp steamer, Lille.

“Tell them that your prisoner has admitted that he is Jacques Duross. Let La Greve carry him to France and collect whatever reward is waiting the delivery. Go.”

Hoot and Greasy hesitated. Ed Mallan growled his approval of Zurick’s order.

“You heard him,” asserted the dick. “Get going!”

Thugs moved. Gun muzzles jabbed Perry Dolger’s back. The crew of gorillas filed from the library.

Footsteps faded. The side door closed.

IT was then that Rowland appeared. Mallan chuckled. The servant had wisely kept behind. He had heard the events within the library.

“Come on,” suggested Mallan. “We’ve got rid of the bad egg. Give me a hand, Rowland. We’re bringing in the box.”

The servant looked toward Zane Dolger. The younger heir nodded. Zane was still half-stunned by the amazing sequence of events. He watched Mallan and Rowland bring in the metal coffer. The detective prepared to unclamp the iron bands. He was stopped by Lucius Zurick.

“Just a moment, Mallan” — the philanthropist’s tone was one of dry humor— “before you open the coffer. I know that you were acquainted with Hoot and Greasy. Your rejected report told us that. I suspected, tonight, that you had made some arrangement to counteract Perry Dolger. But how did you manage it?”

“Easy,” replied the detective, as he undid the clamps of the coffer. “Hoot and Greasy were crooks, weren’t they? Working for dough, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” replied Zurick.

“Well,” asserted Mallan. “I blew in on them at Zemo’s. Asked ‘em what they’d been paid. Five grand, they said, from Perry Dolger. That made it a cinch for me.”

“You paid them—”

“The extra ten grand that I got from you. When you said ten, I hollered for twenty. I’m no chiseler. I didn’t want it for myself. I wanted that extra dough to buy off the bunch.”

Zurick nodded his understanding. He was lost in admiration of Mallan’s cleverness. The lid of the box was coming open; but Zurick was not impressed by the regained millions. He was still thinking of Mallan’s ruse.

“You know the criminal mind, Mallan,” decided Zurick. “That much is certain.”

“Maybe,” returned Mallan. “Maybe not. I know one thing, though. Guys like Hoot Shelling and Greasy Karn will always sell out to the bird that shows the most dough. That’s why they switched from Perry Dolger to Ed Mallan.”

That was the detective’s final comment. Lucius Zurick, like Guy Laverock and Harbrook Kent, had become concerned with the funds that lay intact within the coffer. Zane Dolger, still half stunned by all that occurred, was staring helplessly.

Only Rowland was standing by. A change had come over his face. His thin lips formed a smile. Within the brain behind Rowland’s face, a single thought was uppermost. That was the final statement that Ed Mallan had made: that crooks like Hoot and Greasy will sell out to the highest bidder.

That statement had referred to the past. Mallan’s impressions had stopped there. But that which had held in the past might hold in the future, also!