GOUGER appeared and led the two men to the anteroom. He ushered them out into the corridor; then returned. Gouger did not see the weird figure that moved stealthily after he had passed. He did not suspect the presence of The Shadow.
On the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, Graham Wellerton and Wolf Daggert parted. No words of farewell were exchanged between these lieutenants of King Furzman.
Graham surveyed Wolf with a parting smile; Wolf, in turn, glowered at the man who had been successful where he had failed.
Neither noted the tall, vague form that stood within the darkness of the entry to the lobby. Neither knew that The Shadow had followed them here; that the master of darkness was watching their departure.
King Furzman had spoken facts, not mere possibilities, when he had suggested that The Shadow, after breaking up Wolf Daggert’s game, might trail Wolf to learn who was the man behind the attempted bank robbery.
The Shadow had heard Wolf’s telephone call to King. He had come to observe lieutenant and big shot when they met.
In so doing, The Shadow had gained another point. He had learned that the successful pillaging of the Terminal National had also been ordered by King Furzman; he had learned the identity of the big shot’s other lieutenant - Graham Wellerton.
To The Shadow, a skulking rat like Wolf Daggert was one who could be watched by agents, one who could be trapped the next time he attempted crime in Manhattan. King Furzman, pretended racketeer who dealt in robbery, was one whom The Shadow could strike at will.
But in Graham Wellerton, The Shadow had discovered a crime maker of another caliber. Here was one who dealt in strategy; a man who contemplated an expedition to another city; a crook who was wise enough to slide away from Manhattan when the going became too hot.
From his hidden observation post, The Shadow had studied this young chap who had the clean-cut appearance of a gentleman, but who dealt in crime as a profession. Graham Wellerton, with a trusted mob at his heels, was planning crimes that must be stopped at the outset.
As Graham Wellerton and Wolf Daggert walked in opposite directions, The Shadow emerged from the entry. His tall form became a vague outline that moved swiftly and invisibly along the street, following the path that Graham Wellerton had taken.
The Shadow was on the trail of the gentleman who dealt in crime. Before this night was ended, the master of detection would learn more - perhaps all - concerning the affairs of Graham Wellerton, bank robber deluxe.
CHAPTER IV
THE SHADOW VISIBLE
GRAHAM WELLERTON gave no thought to possible followers as he strolled along the street to a subway station. During the ride downtown, he had no idea that anyone was on his trail.
When he emerged from the subway, he walked to the pretentious apartment building where he lived, and rode upstairs in an elevator. He entered his fourth-floor apartment, raised a living-room window to gain some cool air, and seated himself in a comfortable armchair.
Idly speculative, the gentlemanly crook gave no thought to events outside that window. The opening was on a courtyard, not far from a fire tower. While Graham sat smoking a cigarette, a silent action took place upon the intervening wall between tower and window.
Hazy in the illumination from the tower, a tall black form of human proportions stretched out along the wall. Clinging to the bricks in batlike fashion, it began a precarious passage toward the open window.
Squidgy sounds, lost in the dull murmur of basement machinery, told of The Shadow’s progress. With rubber suction disks attached to hands and feet, the stealthy intruder was moving steadily along a vertical wall.
The Shadow’s form was shrouded in blackness when it arrived at a spot but a few feet distant from the open window. Keen ears were listening for any sound from within Graham Wellerton’s living room.
The Shadow’s head moved forward. His keen eyes were about to peer upon the lighted scene, when a rap at the door of the apartment caused Wellerton to arise quickly from his chair. The Shadow eased back into darkness as Graham approached the window, lowered the sash and drew the shade.
Hardly had the gentleman crook headed toward the door before The Shadow was at work. A black-gloved hand, freed from the rubber cup, extended itself and pushed the window sash several inches upward. Speedily, blackened fingers manipulated the window shade.
All this was done while Graham was walking across the floor. By the time the young man had reached the door, The Shadow’s eyes were peering through a three-inch space between the window sill and the sash and shade above.
When Graham Wellerton opened the door, he stepped back and his face came into the light. The Shadow, keenly observant, saw a look of mingled anger and dismay upon the young man’s face. This was caused by the unexpectedness of the visitor - a woman - who wore an expensive but gaudy garb.
THE woman possessed a handsome face, yet there was something about her countenance that rendered it unattractive. Perhaps it was the hardened smile upon her painted lips; possibly it was the challenging glint that came from her dark eyes.
Whatever the cause, Graham Wellerton seemed annoyed because the feminine visitor had appeared, and the woman seemed pleased at the man’s dismay.
“Not so glad to see me, eh?” was her first question. The tones were harsh. “Well, it was time I looked you up. Here I am!”
“How did you find my apartment, Carma?” questioned Graham angrily.
“That’s my business!” the woman snapped. “I’ve found you before, haven’t I? All right - I’ll find you again!”
“Perhaps,” returned the young man, seating himself in a chair by the window. “Nevertheless, there was no reason for you to come here. I told you that I would see you tomorrow - to give you the money that you want.”
“I’ll take the cash now, big boy,” prompted Carma. “Five grand - kick in.”
“I promised you three thousand.”
“I want five.”
“I haven’t that amount.”
“No?” Carma’s tone was scoffing. “Say - you must work cheap, big boy. After that Terminal National robbery, you ought to have plenty of dough.”
“What makes you say that?” quizzed Graham angrily. “Where do you get the idea that I was in on the Terminal National holdup?”
“I read the newspapers,” laughed Carma. “I know the kind of work you do. Come on - five grand!”
Irritably, Graham drew a roll of bank notes from his pocket and peeled off fifty bills of hundred-dollar denomination. His bundle of cash was still a stout one when he replaced it in his pocket.
“This will do for a while,” volunteered Carma. “But when I want more - I’ll get it. Understand?”
Graham eyed the woman as she took a chair and lighted a cigarette. The young man chewed his lips, then spoke in a concerned tone.
“Some day, Carma,” he remarked, “this is all going to end. Your demands for money are becoming more and more troublesome.”
“I’ve got the goods on you, Graham,” retorted Carma harshly. “You’ll keep on paying - that’s all.”
“Let’s be reasonable,” suggested the young man. “It’s about time you called quits on the racket. Otherwise -“
He paused as he caught the woman’s glare. Thoughtfully, Graham assumed a reminiscent tone as he changed the subject to a discussion of the past.
“A FEW years ago,” he said, “you and I were married. You know very well that I was shanghaied into matrimony. I don’t even remember the ceremony. You showed me the marriage license - that was all.”
