The Python

CHAPTER XVI SMOOTH STRATEGY

ONCE as Cranston; now as Revoort. For the second time, The Shadow faced The Python. His adversary, too, had assumed a double guise. No longer a stooped, bewigged old man, The Python had taken on the identity of Carl Ramorez. But though the parts they played were different, in each instance, circumstances stood the same. The Shadow was in The Python’s power.

Grueling had been The Shadow’s adventures since he had last seen The Python. He had been consigned to one of the master villain’s merciless Coils; he had escaped that band only to encounter another crew, equally as vicious. Finally free, The Shadow had fared forth on a new mission, only to find himself once more beneath the domination of the most formidable foe who had ever opposed him.

Struggles for self-preservation. Such had been The Shadow’s conflicts with The Python. Again, the odds were turned against The Shadow. His role of Louis Revoort was known by that foe who had assumed the mask of Carl Ramorez.

Still holding the smooth purring tone of Ramorez, The Python was talking of the reclaimed treasure. He was pouring forth deep thanks to his friend Louis Revoort, commending him for his efforts, for the hardships that he had undergone to aid a poor refugee. With such words did The Python camouflage the gloating which he felt. He was hiding a double victory: a chance to gain a vast fortune; and an opportunity to finally destroy The Shadow.

Nervously, The Shadow lighted a cigarette. His action was still a simulation of Revoort’s usual manner. At heart, The Shadow felt no fear. The helplessness of his position was actually inspiring him to swift deduction. As he listened to The Python’s pretended gratitude — Ramorez to Revoort — The Shadow was visualizing his enemy’s own schemes.

Since The Python had guessed that The Shadow would come here as Revoort, why had The Python not taken even more precaution? In a sense, this trap could be made a double one. Though covered by hidden gunners, The Shadow, by superspeed, could manage to whip out an automatic and drill The Python before the marksmen fired.

Surely The Python knew of The Shadow’s speed with guns; moreover, The Python had seen proof of The Shadow’s disdain for death. With escape blocked, The Shadow could seek solace in double doom, eliminating The Python with himself. The Python certainly must have taken that possibility under consideration.

One answer flashed through The Shadow’s brain. The Python, with the egotism of all supercrooks, had prided himself on greater keenness than The Shadow. Though he had guessed that Louis Revoort might prove to be The Shadow, The Python had been confident that The Shadow would not see through the guise of Carl Ramorez.

The supercrook thought that his own game was a complete deception. He did not know that The Shadow had recognized him as The Python. Such was The Shadow’s realization; and with it, he gained his plan of strategy. The Shadow must continue to act the role of Louis Revoort; and with it, accept The Python as his friend, Carl Ramorez.

“I have given you thanks,” purred on The Python, “knowing that you, my friend, must have brought my lost wealth safely ashore. Tell me, Revoort: did you have trouble when that terrible fire burst loose aboard the steamship?”

“I did,” replied The Shadow, in Revoort’s tone. “Trouble then and before. Ramorez, crooks were after your fortune. They were on my trail even before I boarded the Tropical.”

“Yet you outmanaged them?”

“YES.” The Shadow laid the cigarette aside. He knew that The Python must have heard from the Colonia, enough to have learned that the stolen coffer held no swag. “You see, I brought your treasure in its original chest. But before I went aboard the Tropical, I transferred it to an ordinary trunk.”

“Which you kept in your own stateroom?”

“No. That would have been unwise. I hired another cabin under the name of J.F. Jenks. I placed the trunk in that room. The coffer went in the purser’s strong box.”

“Did your enemies start the fire?”

“I believe so. The purser, I hear, died before the blaze began. A lifeboat left the liner, manned by supposed deserters. I believe that they may have taken the coffer. I do not know; because I did not inquire.”

“Why not?”

“Because my life was in danger. I was attacked and almost thrown overboard.” Speaking casually, The Shadow knew that The Python could not have learned of Revoort’s trip ashore on the life buoy. Those who had attacked Revoort were dead.

“Yet you were rescued,” purred The Python, in the tone of Ramorez. “Come, my friend, tell me who gave you aid.”

“Two men,” stated The Shadow. “One was named Vincent; but he did not tell me the name of his companion. Both were passengers; some unknown friend had delegated them to protect me. They kept me hidden in their cabin. They brought my trunk ashore.”

“But how did you—”

“How did I come ashore?” The Shadow smiled in Revoort’s fashion. “In a larger trunk, which had previously held the luggage of my rescuers. They saw to it that both trunks were carefully handled.”

“And they brought you and the treasure to the Legrand Hotel?”

“No. I came there alone. Vincent and his friend are holding the treasure.”

A feigned look of alarm appeared upon The Python’s darkly disguised visage. The Shadow raised one hand.

“Do not worry,” he assured. “I am confident of the loyalty shown by those two men. I told Vincent to call me at the Legrand Hotel. He is to deliver the trunk there when we are ready.”

“To deliver it to you, Revoort?”

“Or to you, Ramorez.”

“You told him of me?”

“Certainly.”

The Python considered. The Shadow watched him quietly; then spoke a suggestion. His tone was troubled.

“It might be wise for me to remain here,” he said. “I do not like to be seen about New York, for I am listed as missing from the Tropical. If you go alone, you will have no difficulty.”

“Would it be possible?” queried The Python, smoothly, “to have the trunk delivered here?”

“Very difficult,” returned The Shadow. “Vincent may already have it close to the Legrand Hotel. We arranged absolutely for it to be brought to my own room there. Possibly he has already telephoned and is puzzled because I am not back. Suppose I call the Legrand Hotel from here?”

THE SHADOW’S tone was still deceiving. To The Python, it meant that he still thought he was talking to Carl Ramorez. It was clever strategy by The Shadow, this present simulation of Louis Revoort. It threw the burden of a false move on The Python, who was anxious to preserve the deception that he thought existed.

“Very well.”

The Python picked up a telephone and handed it to The Shadow, who called the Legrand Hotel. He stated that he was Louis Revoort, and would like to talk to Mr. Vincent. There was a pause while Harry Vincent was being paged. Finally came the announcement that Mr. Vincent was in the lobby, and would soon be on the wire. The Shadow gave this information to The Python.

“Hello…” The Shadow was speaking to Harry Vincent. “Hello… Yes, this is Revoort. I have instructions for you, regarding the trunk… Yes. Here they are. I’ll repeat them…”

The Shadow looked over the top of the telephone, toward The Python. He spoke slowly, so the pretended Ramorez would hear his exact statements, as he talked to Harry Vincent.

“Do not inform anyone of my arrival… The police must not know that Louis Revoort is in town… Bring the trunk to my room at the Legrand… You can have the truckmen help you. Pay them and get the money from me tomorrow…

“Whoever you meet tonight is to be there by my order… Do not wait for me to come… Call me yourself tomorrow… I can announce myself then because there will be no need of any great secrecy… There will be no danger to my plans after tomorrow…”

A brief acknowledgment came over the wire. The Shadow hung up the receiver, placed the telephone on the table and resumed his chair. His glance at The Python told him that the disguised crook had not caught slight emphasis on certain words. Harry Vincent alone had noted their import.

Those stressed words had borne this message:

The emphasized words nullified all else. Harry Vincent would stay away; the Cuban treasure would not be delivered. Instead, the law would appear to investigate Louis Revoort’s odd reappearance. Not finding Revoort, the police would hold and question whoever might be in his place, providing that Harry Vincent made the situation seem strong enough.

“Whoever is there—”

So had The Shadow ordered; and by “whoever,” he had meant The Python. Already, the pretended Ramorez was donning hat and coat, ready to fare forth in quest of the missing wealth.

“Make yourself comfortable, Revoort,” he was purring. “Sit right where you are, in that chair by the window. Good-by, my friend. When you hear the ring of the telephone, be sure to answer. It will be myself, telling you that the work is finished!”

WITH this assurance, The Python swung to the door and went out into the corridor. The Shadow leaned back in his chair. He had caught the double significance of The Python’s words. The crook had addressed his hidden Coil members, telling them that when the telephone rang, they were to eliminate The Shadow.

Though The Python had not suspected The Shadow’s clever ruse, he wanted to be sure of holding the treasure before he ordered the doom of the person who controlled it. The Shadow had foreseen that The Python would act in such fashion.

The Shadow’s part was to keep on with his pretence. He had taken off his hat and coat; rising from his chair, he lighted a cigarette and strolled over by the window. The farther he kept away from the outer door, the more would the waiting assassins be lulled in their vigil. Without The Python to combat him, The Shadow might find some chance for a break. He wanted time to consider opportunities.

Meanwhile, he had given The Python some coming troubles of his own. Leaving The Shadow in an air-tight trap, the master crook was faring forth on a quest that would result in his own ensnarement. This was better than a stalemate.

The Shadow, however, was not thinking further of The Python. He was watching his own actions, avoiding any false step that might start lurking hair-triggers into a barrage from under cover.

While minutes passed, The Shadow lingered, smoking by the window. Across low, squalid buildings, he saw a blackened structure where blue lights shone from one high upper story. As he watched, The Shadow saw those neon bulbs quiver. They blinked from corners; paused; then wavered anew.

No change came on The Shadow’s disguised countenance. Yet in those flashes, six minutes after The Python’s departure, he saw significant meaning. The Shadow, though still a prisoner hoping for escape, had spied The Python’s signal room and had guessed the purpose which it served.