The Golden Quest

CHAPTER XX. THE BIG SHOT SPEAKS

FOR an instant, three men thought that they were victims of an ill-timed jest. Harry Vincent was the first to realize that he was wrong. His eyes passed from Hoxon’s gun muzzle to Cortland Laspar’s face. The evil smile that showed on the man’s lips was proof that this could be no joke.

Harry raised his arms. Vic Marquette was prompt to do the same. His eyes had followed Harry’s gaze.

Rex Brodford hesitated; then he caught a look at Laspar. Rex submitted with the others.

Hoxon and his two companions remained steady. They were unflinching with their rifles. They held steady aim. Perpetrators of a trap, henchmen of a supercrook, they were ready to kill if ordered.

Grimly, Harry Vincent realized how cleverly this had come about. Had Hoxon and his men drawn revolvers upon entering, there might have been indication that a fight was coming. Laspar had foreseen that. He had told his men to choose their rifles, giving a reason why such weapons would be needed.

The loading of the guns had lulled the intended victims. The raising of the rifles had been quite natural. In a twinkling, friends had become foemen, and the unanticipated move had rendered an armed trio helpless.

Cortland Laspar, stepping forward, was chuckling in evil satisfaction. Coldly, the crooked lumber king eyed his victims. There was no mercy in his gaze. Contempt alone was registered upon his gloating face.

Harry was thinking as he eyed Laspar. He recalled the statement that Hoxon’s men were a picked crew.

He understood what that meant. They were men in “the know;” ones whom Hoxon could bring along for crooked work.

The call to the sheriff had been a fake. Just another bit of dust kicked up by Laspar. Harry felt himself a fool. He realized that he and his companions should have suspected something wrong the moment that their trail had ended. Laspar had lulled them into false security.

Three against one, they had been in a position to overpower this man, had they known him for a fiend.

But Laspar’s surprise at their arrival had been genuine. The lumber man had played a cunning game. They had even let him send for his murder squad. Harry realized that he and his companions deserved this fate that their folly had brought them.

Laspar felt the same. His chuckle showed it. He had covered his game until the last. The time had come when he could reveal himself as the big shot in the chain of crime. His manner indicated that he enjoyed the triumph.

“BLUNDERERS!” accused Laspar, in a gloating tone. “You had the secret in your grasp. You fumbled it. You refused to accept facts that a child might easily have understood. You deserve the death that you will gain!

“The Quest Gold Mine was lost long ago. Yes — but it was not forgotten. I knew that the shaft contained gold, and wanted the opportunity to gain it. I was forced to bide my time. Then came changed conditions that offered me the chance to reap a double profit. The rising value of the gold market made me think more and more of the old Quest mine.”

Standing away from the rifles of his henchmen, Laspar paused to survey the glum faces that confronted him. The crooked magnate chuckled as he continued.

“A few years more would have meant the complete dissolving of the Quest mine corporation. The company still existed; but, even though its end was near, I could not wait to begin my harvest. So I evolved a scheme that suited me.

“I started the Chalice Gold Mine. James Jubal was the proxy who promoted it. He sold stock everywhere. Profits poured into the enterprise. Dupes were affording gain that I had not expected.

“We used sucker money to drive shafts into worthless ground. Workers, supervised by Trebold, started a corridor off in the direction of the Quest mine shaft. I knew where the vein lay; I had seen to it that the old Quest shaft was covered.

“We struck the Quest shaft. We did not stop there. We burrowed under the lake, bringing a passage to this lodge. My game had ripened. Details alone remained. First, to let the Chalice mine fail. I had made a fortune from it. I needed it no longer.

“Next, from this lodge as headquarters, I could work the old Quest mine — harvest its golden treasure. Gain steady profits while times were best for such a course. Later, perhaps, I might put up the Quest mine and the Chalice mine, when those enterprises were definitely dead.

“But so long as both remained latent, I was as well off as if I owned them. My lumber camp would serve me as a blind. It would provide a means of transporting gold ore from this vicinity, under cover.”

Laspar had said enough to indicate the depth of his schemes. He dropped the subject of his swindling tactics and his measures to purloin wealth. He came directly to a point that concerned his prisoners more imminently.

“HOXON and trusted men at the lumber camp, Trebold and his hirelings guarding the shaft of the Quest mine; Jubal and his henchmen in New York. Those were the forces upon whom I could depend. I kept two groups here: Hoxon’s and Trebold’s. I sent for Jubal, Firth and the others after the game of murder failed in New York.”

Laspar stopped. He studied Vic Marquette. He spat vicious words at the bearded operative.

“You played a clever game,” declared Laspar. “Taking the role of Old Absalom; playing the part of a half-wit who knew nothing, and who was allowed to dwell unmolested in these parts.

“I sent Jubal to see you. He made the deal by which you were to kill. I told him to keep tabs on you. He did that, tonight. It appears that he headed for the shack on the hill when he found you missing.”

Laspar turned his gaze. He studied the three helpless men as a group.

“Jubal trapped you, apparently. His shots brought Trebold into the game, through the Chalice mine shaft. You were fortunate to find your way here, between two fires. My men — Trebold and Jubal — have shown their wisdom in staying back. They knew that I could handle you. I have.

“I was in a pinch; but I stepped out of it. I sent for Hoxon. But I do not intend to leave your deaths to him. He belongs back at the lumber camp with these picked men of his.

“They have been covering Jubal and his mobsmen, who have been living in a distant, hidden camp at the end of Lake Chalice. Jubal lost one opportunity. I shall give him another.”

Laspar paused, as though considering Jubal’s merits. Then he laughed.

“Perhaps Jubal shall have the job,” he decided. “Possibly I shall give the assignment to Trebold. One or the other will soon be here. The first can have priority. You three blunderers will be taken back through the passage beneath the lake. You will die in a corridor of the Chalice mine. You will be buried under piles of loose rock.

“It would have been better for you, Rex Brodford, had you sold that Quest stock to Jubal. Your Uncle Ezra would never part with it. When he died, I saw an opportunity to gain it. If you had sold, no attempt would have been made upon your life.

“Owning control, I would have dissolved the corporation, selling myself the land. The Quest mine would have been legally my property, in its entirety. The law, however, does not concern me. I am a law unto myself!”

Laspar paused to look at Harry Vincent. He shook his head in mock sorrow.

“Too bad, Vincent,” declaimed the villain. “You were unfortunate in your choice of a friend. You would have done better to have avoided Rex Brodford. You know too much; you die.”

“As for you” — again Laspar turned to scoff at Vic Marquette — “the presence of a Secret Service operative is bad enough in these parts. As for one who has learned something, as you have, there can be but one fate: Death!”

LASPAR stepped back toward the hallway that led to the rear of the lodge. Miguel had appeared there.

The Filipino’s fat face was leering above the white collar of his coat. This rascal was another party to the big shot’s game.

“By this time,” chortled Laspar, “my men from the mine have certainly shown enough judgment to be on this ground. They would have come quietly; for they are not blunderers. They are waiting, beyond that sheathed door, for my call.

“It will be interesting to learn which band took the initiative — Trebold’s or Jubal’s. So I shall have Miguel unlock the door, that we may see. You three” — he waved his hand toward the prisoners — “will then learn the identity of your executioners.”

Laspar was smiling in his usual benign fashion. His storm of elation had passed; he was again the smug individual whose countenance was so deceiving.

“Unlock the door, Miguel,” he ordered.

The Filipino applied the key to the door at the head of the cellar staircase. He turned about to speak.

“It is not locked,” he announced.

“Good!” laughed Laspar. “Both Jubal and Trebold have keys. One of them has wisely unlocked the door from the other side. Step back, Miguel, and allow your friends to enter. Come, Jubal — or Trebold — we are waiting.”

The sheathed door swung open. Harry and his fellow prisoners could not see it, for they were in the center of the living room, away from the hallway. But Laspar and Miguel could observe; and so could Hoxon and the riflemen, clustered by the front door.

Laspar waited as the barrier swung clear. The man was amused at the situation, guessing which of his lieutenants was due to appear. A broad smile beamed from his rounded face.

The smile became a frozen grin. Laspar stood aghast at the manifestation that came from the opened doorway. Instead of human arrivals, blackness issued forth. Sweeping blackness, that whirled in the dim light of the hall, to become a human shape.

A WEIRD laugh broke. Hoxon and his men turned instinctively from their rifles. The two who stood with lowered guns joined them in the turn. Miguel dropped back against the wall. The Filipino’s face was as white as his jacket.

That mocking laugh betokened menace. It compelled all eyes to turn. Villainous gazes became rigid. Men with leveled rifles dared not move. They were covered by weapons that loomed like tokens of death.

Crooks were caught helpless. They were staring at a cloaked figure. They saw burning eyes that gleamed from beneath a slouch hat. Automatics were the weapons that extended from tight-clenched fists. Gloved fingers were ready on the triggers.

The laugh broke. Amid its echoes came a fierce, commanding hiss. Men of crime cowed. Raised rifles dropped, then clattered useless to the floor. Hands went up in unison.

Trapped when they least suspected danger, Hoxon and his crew could do nothing else but yield.

Harry Vincent heard that laugh. So did Vic Marquette. Both knew its significance. Their hands came down as they sprang forward.

Rex Brodford, his blood chilled by the tones of that sinister laugh, stood frozen, hardly daring to follow.

He alone of the trio was the only one who did not realize that they had been delivered. But Harry and Vic understood; they had gained experiences like this before.

They knew that The Shadow had come from the depths. Somehow, he had conquered odds, to turn the tables on the foe. Helpless prisoners had been rescued by The Shadow!