The Python

CHAPTER VII ABOARD THE “TROPICAL”

DAWN showed the tug Colonia cleared from New York, plodding slowly northward at a reduced speed. On that same morning, the steamship Tropical sailed for Savannah, southward bound.

To Tanker and Pete, The Shadow was a charge. Less cruel than the other members, they could see no reason for neglecting the prisoner. Thus when the news was given that the passenger was less feverish, orders were given to truss The Shadow up should his recovery continue.

Meanwhile, aboard the steamship Tropical, a dance was in progress. Some passengers were busy dancing, some smoking in the smoking room. Others, however, were in their staterooms.

In Room 313, its occupant was a keen-eyed, nervous man of bronzed complexion, who paced back and forth across the room while he puffed at or around his twentieth cigarette.

A rap sounded on the door of the cabin. The nervous man opened the door and peered through a narrow slit. With a relieved smile he drew the barrier wide and allowed a uniformed man to enter. After that, he closed the door and locked it.

The nervous man, tall, thin and wiry, was Louis Revoort. His visitor, squatty and bluff-faced, and dressed in a tightfitting uniform, was the purser of the steamship Tropical.

“You wished to see me, Mr. Revoort?” inquired the purser, quietly. “Was it about the coffer that you placed in my care? Perhaps the contents of the coffer—”

“Shh! Don’t talk about it, purser. You are the only one who knows that the coffer holds great wealth. That is why I sent for you. I believed that you would understand my fears.”

“The coffer is safe, Mr. Revoort. I placed it in the strong box in my office. I alone have the keys; the office itself is locked. No one could break in there.”

“Someone may try. I am warning you of it, purser. Please take my advice; have your office watched — by reliable persons. If dangerous persons try to enter, they will make themselves known by their act. Then they can be apprehended—”

“You told me this before, Mr. Revoort,” interposed the purser, wearily. “You are repeating yourself.”

“Yes; but you have failed to follow my advice.”

“Perhaps, although I have been watchful. Frankly, Mr. Revoort, I have seen nothing to make me share your apprehensions. However, I shall post men on duty before I retire.”

Revoort nodded eagerly. The purser smiled and stepped toward the door. He unlocked it; then made a suggestion.

“The air will be clearer in the smoking room,” he stated. “Why don’t you go there, Mr. Revoort? Get yourself out of this cloud.”

“All right.” Revoort smiled a weary agreement. “You’re taking my advice, purser. I’ll follow yours.”

ACROSS the short side corridor, the door of Cabin 309 was slightly open when the purser appeared from Revoort’s room. It closed, without an audible jar. A hand pressed a light switch; side brackets revealed two men. One, a quiet, clean-cut chap, had been listening at the door. The other, huskier and of chiseled countenance, was seated in a chair.

These men were The Shadow’s agents, Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland. They were the pair whose names The Python had not learned. Aboard the Tropical, they had gained a stateroom that gave them close watch on Louis Revoort.

“The purser has gone, Cliff,” whispered Harry, from close behind the door. “But Revoort is still in his cabin.”

“Worried, all right,” Cliff acknowledged. “Maybe we ought to be watching the purser’s office. Then there’s that fellow you’re suspicious of—”

“Luke Duronne, the card sharp?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, too.”

“Right enough, Harry. We’ll stick close by, to protect Revoort when trouble comes.”

Cliff’s words were prophetic. They reminded Harry of a present duty. Extinguishing the light, Harry opened the door; then gave a whisper to Cliff, who came over beside him. Revoort was coming out of his cabin. Harry had heard the unlocking of the catch from the inside.

ONCE in the corridor, Revoort closed the door of Room 313. He pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. He twisted; but the lock failed to act.

The observers watched Revoort give a grimace. The fellow reached into his pocket and produced another key; like the first, it was the key to a ship’s cabin.

Revoort pocketed the first key and used the second. This time the door locked. As Revoort placed the keys in separate pockets, Harry eased his own door shut. He heard Revoort pass through the corridor; then he turned on the light and looked at Cliff.

“What do you make of it?” inquired Harry. “What was the idea of two keys?”

“Maybe one was a pass-key,” responded Cliff. “Revoort may have brought along a supply like we did, and found that one could be fixed.”

“Then why did one fail to lock the door? If one was a pass-key — and the other belonged to 313—”

Harry paused; then snapped his fingers.

“I’ve got it, Cliff!” he exclaimed. “Let’s see that copy you made of the passenger list. The one we’ve both been checking over.”

Cliff produced the list. Its margins bore notations. Harry passed a string of names; then indicated one.

“J.F. Jenks,” he read. “He’s the fellow whom we haven’t seen. Never been in the dining saloon for meals. Nobody else has noticed it; but we have.”

“Cabin 222,” remarked Cliff. “A good place to stay away from, if Jenks is always in it.”

“Let me have the pass-key, Cliff. While you’re out keeping an eye on Revoort, I’ll make a trip to Cabin 222.”

“But I just said that—”

“I heard you. Don’t worry, Cliff. My hunch is a sweet one. There’ll be no trouble. I’ll look you up later.”

The two went from their cabin, Harry smiling; Cliff, half puzzled. There was no chance for Cliff to question Harry in a corridor; so they parted after they had passed a bulkhead. Once Harry had left him, Cliff gained a hunch of his own. He decided that Revoort had gone to the smoking room.

Not much of a deduction, Cliff admitted to himself; nevertheless, he was pleased when he reached the smoking room and found Revoort there. Twenty minutes passed; from a corner, Cliff saw Revoort rise and depart.

CLIFF left the smoking room half a minute later. He took a circuitous route toward the state room that he shared with Harry, but he made rapid speed. When he reached the end of a long corridor, he was just in time to catch a glimpse of Revoort. The man was going back to 313.

Cliff reached 309. He paced about for several minutes; then heard a key click in the lock. Harry entered. His smile was broader than before.

“I’ve narrowed it, Cliff,” stated Harry. “Is Revoort back in his cabin?”

Cliff nodded.

“Then we’ve nothing to do but watch him,” decided Harry. “The purser’s office doesn’t matter. The ship’s officers can worry about it.”

“What about this fellow Jenks? Wasn’t he in 222?”

“No. My hunch was proven, Cliff. There is no one named Jenks aboard.”

Cliff pondered.

“Revoort had two keys,” reminded Harry. “Since one failed to lock his door, I figured that it belonged to another cabin — an empty one.”

“But in order for Revoort to have the key—”

“He would have to have engaged the cabin, under another name.”

“Jenks! You means that Revoort is J.F. Jenks?”

“There is no J.F. Jenks. Moreover, Revoort is wise enough to stay away from that cabin, which he knows no one will visit. For Cabin 222 contains luggage, although it has no occupant. I found a trunk in there, Cliff; it was so heavy that I could not lift it.”

“You mean that Revoort has put the treasure in Cabin 222?”

“Exactly. The coffer that the purser has in the strong room is nothing but a bluff.”

“Nobody would ever guess about that other cabin, Harry.”

“Not unless they should see Revoort’s two keys and dope it out as I did.”

“And unless someone grabs the coffer and cracks it open, nobody will know that the real swag might be elsewhere.”

HARRY nodded his approval of Cliff’s statement.

“If there is a gang aboard,” concluded Harry, “they’ll raid the purser’s office first. Once that has been discovered, the crowd will have to dig for cover.”

“They’d come for Revoort, though,” decided Cliff, “unless they already know — as is likely — that there is nothing of value in his own cabin. Maybe some bribed steward has made a search there for them.”

“That’s probable,” agreed Harry, “and it’s likely that Revoort has paid a steward to stay out of 222. Two could handle that game, Cliff. But if a raid is made on the purser’s office, with success, they’ll come for Revoort anyway.”

“To make him blab?”

“Yes. That’s why we’ll stay here. To be ready for the sequel, should the first attack succeed.”

That matter settled, The Shadow’s agents began their vigil, as self-appointed guardians of Louis Revoort. Trouble was brewing, they were sure. Both Harry and Cliff felt themselves prepared for it.

These aids of The Shadow were right in their surmise. Evil purposes were already in action aboard the steamship Tropical. Coming events, however, were to be of a magnitude that neither man expected!