The Four Signets

CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW’S PART

“FOOLS!” snarled Perry Dolger. “This will be your finish! You three old clucks” — he leered at the philanthropists — “and this dud — my cousin — who was going to pass up his chance for millions!”

“You fellows” — he sneered at Cardona and Markham, who were standing with lowered revolvers — “are out of luck. You’ll get the works along with the rest. But the prize dummy of the lot is this guy Ed Mallan!”

Perry was relishing his triumph over the private detective. Mallan was standing with mouth half open. His gawky figure was ridiculous, with its upraised arms.

“Crooks sell out to the highest bidder,” chuckled Perry. “You found that out, Mallan, when you paid Hoot ten grand to raise the five grand that I gave him. But you were too dumb to figure that I could raise the ante.

“I did it, when they were carrying me to the boat. They gave me a chance to talk. I told them what was behind the game. Not murder — no mausoleums — not signet rings — but real swag and plenty of it.

“They were wise enough to know that there was something worth while getting from this house. But they didn’t guess the size of the swag until I told them. Millions! Fifty-fifty between me and the crowd. That makes ten thousand look like chicken feed.”

Perry strode across the room, straight to the little door in the corner. The door was ajar; Perry placed his hand upon the barrier, preparing to push it inward. He turned to Hoot and Greasy.

“Rowland ducked in here,” Perry told the crooks. “I’ll cover him; then we’ll hand the works to the whole crowd. Rub them out when I give the word. Then the getaway — with the swag.”

Swinging to the door, Perry pushed it inward. Hoot, Greasy and the gorillas could not see into the little room; but Perry Dolger did. Snarling, the chief of crime dropped back.

Quickly, he tried to fire. He was too late.

An automatic thundered from the little room. Perry sprawled upon the floor.

The author of the shot stepped forth from blackness. It was not Rowland. The old servant could never have masked himself in cloak and hat of blackness; nor could he have delivered the laugh that came with the timely shot.

The Shadow! Eyes blazing, fists extended, looming automatics ready, the master avenger had come to play his part.

HIS spreading hands were on the way to two objectives: those doorways where armed thugs stood awaiting the word to deliver slaughter.

Revolvers flashed as wild lips snarled. Gorillas were swinging away from those whom they had covered.

A dozen revolvers were aiming for The Shadow. But the automatics were already busy.

Mammoth muzzles belched their cannonade. Straight into the two groups of clustered crooks The Shadow delivered burning bullets. Men sprawled as the leaden slugs found human flesh. From perfect ambush, The Shadow was dispatching messages of death.

The flashes of the automatics came in machinelike rapidity. Revolvers barked hopelessly amid the tattoo of The Shadow’s .45s. Wild shots ripped splinters from the doorway close beside The Shadow. But they came on the heels of the automatic fire.

Backing with the recoil of his guns, The Shadow was fading into the little room. His volleys had thinned the ranks of the enemies. But this was the chance for the remaining crew. The Shadow had loosed the entire contents of his guns.

Hoot Shelling had slumped to the floor. Greasy Karn, protected by the body of a dying thug, remained unwounded. With a fierce cry for others to follow, Greasy pounced forward with frenzied gorillas at his heels.

At that instant, Cardona and Markham fired. Neglected when every mobster had sought The Shadow as a target, the headquarters men still had their revolvers. Zane Dolger yanked his gun. So did Ed Mallan.

The mobsters behind Greasy found themselves engaged in a terrific brawl.

But Greasy had gained the door of the little room. His ready revolver was pointed inward. His finger was on the trigger, ready to fire a shot that was never due for delivery.

In front of Greasy was The Shadow, backed in the windowless room. He had dropped his brace of automatics. His gloved hands were sweeping new weapons into view.

A tongue of flame! Greasy coughed and sagged. The Shadow leaped forward, across the crook leader’s drooping body. The Shadow’s ruse had worked. He had drawn the attack. Whether or not the others had intervened, he would have been prepared.

THE intervention of Cardona and the others had demanded new effort on The Shadow’s part. Cardona had dropped one gorilla; the others were grappling with Markham, Mallan and Zane Dolger. Even the three philanthropists were fighting with two crooks whom they had seized from behind.

One gorilla wrestled free. He aimed for Lucius Zurick. Then came a burst of The Shadow’s left-hand automatic. The gorilla’s shot remained unfired as the man toppled to the floor.

Shots burst of a sudden. Markham went down, a bullet in his shoulder. A swinging gun-hand dealt a glancing blow to Cardona’s hat-covered head. Zane Dolger went rolling on the floor with the mobster whom he was fighting. The crook came free, aiming to kill.

Again the roar of an automatic. Zane was saved. The quick shot dropped the aiming gorilla.

Others wheeled to meet the menace of The Shadow. Roars of the automatics gained the verdict.

Cardona, though half stunned; Zane, though sprawled upon the floor — both were timely in their aid. They fired their revolvers in accompaniment to The Shadow’s automatics.

The last gorilla, battling with the philanthropists, managed a shot that crippled Guy Laverock. Centered among the three men, the crook had been safe from The Shadow’s aim. He wriggled free as Laverock fell away; then aimed for Kent.

Two shots came at once. A flash from The Shadow’s right-hand automatic. A puny burst from the revolver that Lucius Zurick wielded. Both bullets found their target. The last mobster collapsed.

THE SHADOW had reached the center of the room. Swinging, he swept through the side door of the library, passing over the huddled forms of crooks.

Joe Cardona, aided to his feet by Ed Mallan, looked upon the scene of chaos.

Crooks — wounded, dying and dead — were spread about the floor. In the last group were Hoot and Greasy. The Shadow had dealt death to them.

Perry Dolger’s form was lying by the door to the little room. Zane hurried over and bent above his cousin. Perry looked up, and his eyes were evil as his lips formed a snarl that ended in a gasp.

First to encounter The Shadow, Perry had received a mortal wound. As Zane stood silent, his treacherous cousin delivered a dying cough. Perry Dolger, murderer and chief of crime, was among the dead.

Joe Cardona took charge. Markham and Laverock were wounded. They, like some of the crippled mobsters, needed prompt attention. Joe put in a call for aid.

It was after the ambulances had gone; after bodies had been loaded for shipment to the morgue that Joe Cardona stood in the library, listening to the final settlement.

Police Commissioner Wainwright Barth had arrived. He was talking to the men concerned.

Lucius Zurick and Harbrook Kent were seated with Ed Mallan standing beside them. Zane Dolger was opposite, with James Jackling — for the attorney had been summoned to the scene.

Barth was standing in critical fashion, his long neck craned forward. His eyes were glittering through his pince-nez spectacles as the commissioner delivered his decision.

“The funds are yours,” he said to the philanthropists. “Zane Dolger has waived all claim, in respect to his grandfather’s wishes.”

“You can put the coffer back where it belongs,” assured Zane, producing the signet which had belonged to Phraytag. “Here, Mr. Zurick, is the missing ring. You may rest assured that I shall forget its secret.”

“Not at all,” crackled Zurick, with a smile. He returned the ring to Zane. “You may keep it. You, too, shall have access to the funds. You may aid us in the coming philanthropies.

“But before we donate to charity, we shall make a more personal gift. Your grandfather, Zane, cut off his heirs, because he thought that there could be no good men among them. He was wrong.

“Therefore, a share of his wealth shall be yours. A generous portion. It is your right. The rest for charity. Do you agree, Kent?”

“I do,” wheezed Kent, with a nod.

“That settles it,” smiled Zurick. “We shall inform Laverock, at the hospital, regarding our decision. But already two of us have voted. Your share, Zane, is assured.”

As Zane held the signet in his left hand, he stretched forth his right to receive Zurick’s warm clap.

Honesty had gained Zane Dolger wealth that he had deserved.

SHORTLY afterward, Joe Cardona stood alone. The two philanthropists had gone with Mallan. Zane Dolger had departed with Jackling. Commissioner Barth had followed, leaving Joe Cardona in full charge.

Recalling the hectic fight, Joe realized that few knew its important details. They had connected Rowland’s disappearance with the arrival of The Shadow. But only Joe Cardona realized fully what had happened.

Rowland had disappeared completely. Joe knew the answer as he stepped into the little room. He saw the hook behind the inward-moving door. He knew that this cache could well have hidden The Shadow’s garments and those deadly automatics which had appeared when needed.

Footsteps came from the hall. Smiling, yet half wondering, Cardona stepped from the little room. He saw a policeman entering. Then Joe stared grimly as the two other officers followed, carrying a body.

“Found him upstairs,” explained an officer. “In a little room. Second floor.”

Joe Cardona looked toward the corpse. The detective’s breath came with a deep choke. The dead man whom the cops had lugged here was Rowland, the missing servant!

Joe was stunned. He remained motionless. He recalled Rowland’s departure; The Shadow’s appearance.

Numbed, he believed that The Shadow was dead. A police surgeon had followed the officers into the library. As the bluecoats withdrew, the physician made a statement.

“Odd,” he remarked. “This man has been dead for at least twenty-four hours!”

SUDDEN understanding came to Joe Cardona. He knew The Shadow’s part at last. Crooks had come here one night ago. They had blackjacked Rowland. The Shadow had saved Zane Dolger by a swift fray.

Rowland had appeared afterward. Presumably, he had been knocked out but had recovered. For the first time Cardona had realized the truth. Rowland had been killed by Steve Lagrin’s blackjack.

It had not been Rowland who had testified. The Shadow, after saving Zane, had gone back to aid the servant. Finding Rowland dead, he had stowed away the body. He had disguised himself as the dead man. The Shadow — since last night — had been the servant in this house!

Joe saw the perfection of The Shadow’s scheme. Crime was due here. He had been ready for it. At any time, The Shadow could have intervened. Dropping the part of Rowland, he could have frustrated any of the persons involved.

But The Shadow had bided his time. As Rowland, he had let one surprise follow another. Each new development had been but temporary. All the while, The Shadow was expecting the final climax.

After Cardona and Markham had arrived, The Shadow knew that a grim game still remained. He had anticipated that Perry Dolger would buy back the thugs who had sold out to Ed Mallan.

As Rowland, The Shadow had sensed the return of the crooked band. He had sidled into the living room. He had dropped the role of servant to assume his menacing guise of black. He had brought the final reckoning. Death to men of evil; wealth to men of honor.

ELSEWHERE, a bluish light was burning. Its rays shone upon the polished table of The Shadow’s sanctum. A hand was writing, in ink that would not fade, inscribing lines of words upon to page of a huge book.

The writing ended. Long hands closed the massive volume. They lifted the bulky tome; the light clicked out. Then came a laugh— sinister but triumphant — that stirred up weird echoes from the tomblike walls.

Silence followed amid the solid blackness. The book was closed. Strife was finished. The story of the four philanthropists — the strange tale of the four gold signets — those facts had been recorded in the archives of The Shadow.