The Golden Quest

CHAPTER V. A DETOUR ENDS

AT the very moment when James Jubal was leaving the drug store two blocks away, a taxicab was rolling into the secluded street which harbored the old Brodford mansion. This was not the cab that Jubal had ordered; the vehicle which the swindler had called for could not have arrived so soon. This cab was one that brought a passenger.

The driver was slackening speed as the cab approached the Brodford house. A sharp hiss came from the darkness in the rear of the taxi. In response to the command, the man at the wheel brought the conveyance to a stop one dozen doors before the Brodford house.

The door of the cab opened. The passenger moved out into darkness. Like a gliding phantom of gloom, he edged across the sidewalk and reached the blackness of building fronts. The Shadow had arrived at his objective. The time was approximately half past ten.

The glow of a lamp from across the street showed the crafty, pointed face of the taxi driver who had remained at the wheel. He was staying in readiness. This driver was Moe Shrevnitz, who served as an aid for The Shadow.

Moe had been chosen for special duty on numerous occasions. Saved from death by The Shadow, he had later been singled out by his mysterious benefactor. The Shadow had seen the advantages of having a worker like Moe in his service.

The independent cab that Moe drove was actually owned by The Shadow. It was Moe’s job to have it at appointed spots whenever so ordered. Tonight, Moe had been in readiness. The Shadow had mysteriously stepped aboard and had ordered Moe to bring him to this district.

The Shadow’s present purpose was unknown to the taxi driver. In fact, Moe caught no sight of the cloaked figure as it emerged from the cab. He knew that The Shadow would probably return shortly.

When a new command came, Moe would follow it.

MEANWHILE The Shadow was approaching Rex Brodford’s home. He knew that it was the address where he would probably uncover James Jubal; for it was now the time at which the swindler’s appointment had been set. Stealth was the method that The Shadow had selected on this occasion.

The Shadow wanted to look in on this secluded house; to catch Jubal in the perpetration of some swindle. By The Shadow’s analysis, Jubal was a rogue who dealt in schemes, not one who could be pictured as a dangerous party unless backed by actual killers.

Thus the silence that lay about Rex Brodford’s house was indication that no menace existed here. The Shadow’s plan was one of surreptitious entry, to be followed by keen observation. This determined, The Shadow reached the front of the gloomy house and studied opportunities for entering it.

A side passage by the house offered means of access. Merged with blackness, The Shadow moved in that direction. He stopped suddenly as he heard a sound from atop the brownstone steps. Someone was opening the front door.

Pressed against the front of the building, The Shadow lingered.

He saw a face come into view. Dull light from the vestibule showed Firth’s dry features. The servant looked along the street, as though expecting someone. The Shadow watched Firth eye Moe’s cab. Then the servant disappeared into the house. The door closed.

The Shadow seized the reason for Firth’s action. Doubtless, the servant was expecting a taxicab. He had noted Moe’s vehicle and had decided that it was one that had parked by chance upon this thoroughfare.

Did Firth’s action indicate that the servant was on the lookout for James Jubal? That the swindler had not yet arrived? That was The Shadow’s first mental query; the answer remained in doubt. Firth’s move was just sufficiently suspicious to keep The Shadow waiting where he was.

Minutes had passed between The Shadow’s departure from Moe’s cab and Firth’s appearance at the top of the steps. More minutes followed. Then a soft laugh whispered from beside the wall. Peering along the street, The Shadow had spotted the lights of a taxi wheeling in from an avenue.

The Shadow waited. The cab rolled up in front of the house. The driver tooted the horn.

Again the door opened at the top of the steps. Firth appeared, lugging a suitcase. The cab driver opened the door, Firth placed the bag beside him in the front seat.

Another man was coming from the house. The light from the vestibule showed Rex Brodford.

Crouched beside the steps, The Shadow heard Rex stop as he neared the sidewalk. The young man held conversation with Firth.

“MAIL the house key to Witherby,” ordered Rex. “Use that envelope that I addressed for you. And remember, Firth, I want you to notify him where you will be.”

“Positively, sir,” wheezed Firth. “And may I wish you a most pleasant journey?”

“Thanks,” laughed Rex. “That’s a better sendoff than the one Jubal offered me.”

“He advised you to stay here, sir?”

“Yes. That’s one reason why I had you show him out. Well, Firth” — Rex extended his hand to the servant — “you’ll hear from me before that advance salary expires.”

Turning about, Rex walked to the cab. The Shadow heard him give the order to drive to Grand Central Station. Firth remained on the stone steps while the young man went aboard the cab. But The Shadow did not linger.

Already, his blackened shape was in motion, sliding along the wall, back in the direction of Moe’s cab.

The Shadow, by his brief eavesdropping, had learned all that he needed to know. He had discovered that James Jubal had come and gone.

Moreover, he had learned that the young man who had left the house was the person whom Jubal had come to see. It was evident that Rex Brodford was going on a trip; that the taxi had been summoned to take him; and that Firth, the servant, was to close the house for the time being.

The Shadow stepped silently into Moe’s cab just as the other taxi pulled away from the Brodford house.

But The Shadow gave no immediate order to Moe. Keenly, the cloaked observer was watching the brownstone steps, where Firth was still standing.

The Shadow waited while Firth watched Rex’s cab. Then, as the vehicle neared the distant corner, The Shadow saw Firth go back into the house.

The Shadow hissed an order. Moe’s cab shot forward on the instant. A driver extraordinary — The Shadow had picked him for that ability — Moe had been holding his machine in leash, with motor softly throbbing. Arrowlike, Moe’s cab sped in pursuit. The taxi driver had anticipated The Shadow’s command.

Moe had seen the first cab turn left at the next corner. Moe took the turn with the speed of a jehu.

Whirling along an avenue, he spotted the other cab passing a traffic light a block ahead. Moe spurted; his cab whizzed beneath the light just as the green blinked out.

The Shadow laughed softly as he rested in the rear seat of the cab. He had not told Moe the destination that Rex had given the first cab driver. Instead, The Shadow had let Moe take up the trail.

As the chase continued. The Shadow had real opportunity to study Moe’s ability as a driver.

It was not an open chase. Moe was too crafty for that. As they rolled along, he spied convenient cars going in the same direction; choosing them as cover, Moe ducked his cab from sight, in case someone ahead might be looking back.

Rex’s cab made a left turn. Moe spied it; as he reached the particular corner, he made a spurt that shot him straight across the path of an approach truck. Scooting clear, Moe resumed the chase, again dropping behind a protecting sedan that was rolling along the side street.

Ten blocks passed. Moe, alert at the wheel, was continuing his clever maneuvers. But The Shadow was no longer resting back upon the seat. He was leaning forward to the window, more alert than Moe.

For The Shadow had discovered that the cab ahead was taking a most unusual course toward the Grand Central Station. Instead of cutting east to crisscross down toward Forty-second Street, the first cab was swinging back to the West Side, making for Tenth Avenue.

UP in the front cab, Rex Brodford had noted the same. He was leaning forward, speaking to the driver.

Rex, as he made query, noted that the cabby had his coat collar muffled up around his chin.

“What’s the idea?” questioned Rex. “I said Grand Central Station. What are you doing? Going down toward the Pennsylvania Station?”

“Leave it to me, bo,” returned the cab driver, his voice a gruff one. “Dere’s a detour I’m skippin’ — an’ a lot of heavy traffic dat might hold us up. Dis is a rush hour.”

“You’ve got it right, then? Grand Central?”

“Sure t’ing, bo. We’ll get dere in a hurry.”

Rex settled back, his face puzzled. They were rolling down Tenth Avenue, nearing the Forties. A left turn would have to come shortly.

In Moe’s cab, The Shadow was more alert than ever. His brain was thinking with speed; acting with keen intuition, he was threading facts together. The vicinity that they were nearing gave him an important clue.

The Shadow hissed a quick command to Moe. The cab driver nodded. A sudden look of understanding appeared upon his face. Forgetting the cab ahead, Moe, shot his own machine to the left. He stepped on the accelerator. The taxi roared along an eastbound street. In performing the prompt move, Moe had cut a way straight through a barricade of traffic. Cars coming the other way had been forced to stop for him.

Moe had gained the clear on nerve.

Two blocks farther down Tenth Avenue, the driver of Rex Brodford’s cab had also determined upon a left turn. But he lacked Moe Shrevnitz’s nerve. The muffled driver stopped at the center of the turn and waited for opposite traffic to pass.

Rex watched the flow of traffic. He lighted a cigarette and settled back in the seat. Plenty of time to make the train. He did not mind this delay. They were turning east at last. Yet as two trucks came lumbering along, to hold the cab in further halt, Rex felt some impatience.

Little did he realize that this delay was all to his advantage. Once that turn was made, Rex Brodford’s life would rest in the balance. He was going into desperate and unexpected adventure, where all the odds would be against him. The Shadow had foreseen that fact. Realizing the menace, he had given a swift order. Knowing that the unexpected lay in store, The Shadow had determined upon the unexpected also.

He had counted on a delay when Rex’s driver came to make the turn. Seconds were precious to The Shadow.

The trucks had lumbered by. Rex’s cab swung left. It rolled steadily, easily along a side street, following one-way, eastbound traffic. Idly puffing his cigarette, Rex noted that they had passed an avenue.

The cab jostled to a halt beside a curb. As Rex stared, puzzled, he saw his driver alight. The muffled man stepped to the sidewalk; then strode into a passageway that showed black between two buildings.

Looking above the darkness, Rex caught the blink of an electric sign on the next street. He saw the words: “Club Renaldo.” He wondered if that might be the driver’s destination.

Perplexed by the taximan’s sudden departure; Rex opened the door of the cab and stepped to the curb.

He stopped short with a startled exclamation. Men were coming from doorways on this darkened street.

Revolvers glimmered in fists that extended from sweatered arms. On the instant, Rex realized that he was the victim of a trap.

Minions of mobland were massed for massacre. The departure of the cab driver was the signal for them to riddle the helpless victim in the taxi.