motioned The Shadow to a soap box.
'You sound like you'd figured something,' said Quill. 'Let's hear it, Pike.'
THE SHADOW plucked a bent cigarette from a crumpled pack. Lighting it, he let it hang from a corner of his mouth, while he maintained a hard, speculative stare toward Dick.
'Bosco talked to me some,' declared The Shadow. 'He made out this was a big-time racket; and with you being in it, Quill, I figured it was. The way I size it, this guy' - he thumbed toward Dick - 'is worth a lot of dough to the prof you talked about. Am I right?'
'Right! But the prof ain't too well fixed for dough.'
'Ain't he after any?' demanded The Shadow. 'Or is he pulling this stuff for his health?'
'There'll be plenty of dough later,' returned Quill. 'I'll get my share. So will the guys that stick along, Pike.'
'Sure! You'll get plenty! What's going to guarantee it?'
Quill looked doubtful. He growled that he could count on the prof; that he, Quill, was wise to the racket, and could talk if need be. Gradually, he became angry; finally, he demanded:
'You got any ideas, Pike?'
'Sure!' Rising, The Shadow stalked over to take a contemptuous look at Dick. 'Hold this mug for a marker. Then you can make sure the prof comes through.'
'That's an idea!' snapped Quill. 'But what'll the prof say if Remingwood don't show up somewhere, dead on a parking lot?'
'Tell him you sunk the guy in Long Island Sound. When Remingwood ain't found, the prof will like it all the better. Only one trouble, though; some of these gorillas you got might know too much. You couldn't keep Remingwood here.'
By this time, Quill was ready to listen to any suggestions from Pike, and said so. Pike came through with a plan. He'd take care of Remingwood, using some mobbies that he could summon in a hurry.
With paper and pencil, Pike marked out the location of a hideaway so well located that Quill's own headquarters seemed worthless in comparison.
There was a telephone in the next room. Quill told Pike to use it. When The Shadow reappeared, his disguised face showed ugly satisfaction.
'They're coming to the back alley,' he told Quill. 'Show me the way through. And listen; these mugs won't know who they got, see? That's what makes it slick. You can tell your own crew that it was me took Remingwood for the ride.'
'I'll tell the prof the same,' decided Quill. 'I'm going over there to see him. Only listen, Pike - where'll I say you planted Remingwood?'
The Shadow stroked his hard chin.
'Suppose you have me show up,' he told Quill. 'Didn't you ever take Bosco over to the prof's?'
'No. I could have, though, if it was important enough. It'd be a good gag, having you blow in and hand him the story of how you got rid of Remingwood.'
'Sure! I'll make it sound like the McCoy.'
QUILL scrawled the name of Professor Lawsham on a sheet of paper. With it, he added other details, then shoved the paper in The Shadow's hand.
'There's the dope,' said Quill. 'C'mon; let's get Remingwood started.'
They lugged Dick out through a back passage and down a stairway to a door that Quill unbolted. They were in the alley when a car nosed in from the street, gave its dim lights a double blink.
'The crew,' whispered The Shadow. 'Don't let 'em see you, Quill. They ain't to know you're in it.'
'O.K., Pike. I'll be waiting upstairs.'
As the door closed behind Quill, there was a low hiss in the darkness. Agents of The Shadow joined their chief; they were startled when they saw his attire. Only the voice that came from the bloated lips of the supposed Pike gave proof that this was The Shadow.
Instructions were brief. Dick heard them along with the agents and listened in amazement, while bonds and gag were being removed from him. There was work ahead, and Dick would be needed, for other agents had varied tasks.
Watch had to be kept over Harry and Arlene, to make sure that crooks didn't change plans about them.
It was bad enough that they had been made victims of the sleeping gas. That was why The Shadow had made such extensive plans with Quill.
As Pike, The Shadow needed a wedge, to work on Professor Lawsham. He was out to play a bold game, and a rapid one, staking everything to save the lives of Harry and Arlene, along with those three men who were the Dead Who Lived.
As soon as the car had pulled away, The Shadow returned into the house. As he ascended the back stairway, he heard shuffling footsteps above: Quill's crew, returning to the hide-out. That bunch of mobbies had come in from the front, and The Shadow was glad that they had returned. It meant that Harry and Arlene were where his agents would find them. Quill's crew didn't matter; with Dick removed from the hide-out, they would make no trouble.
Such was The Shadow's thought. For once, his judgment was to prove wrong. There was dynamite awaiting him - human dynamite, as dangerous as the actual explosive that had blasted the house in the hills.
It came when The Shadow stepped into Quill's main room, confident that his disguise would still serve him. Scarcely across the threshold, he was suddenly surrounded by bristling guns held by thugs who had leaped from every corner.
Looming squarely for The Shadow's eyes were two other revolvers. One was gripped by Quill Baxton, the other by a man whose face glared a similar ugly challenge. At sight of the newcomer, The Shadow instantly realized the threat that faced him.
Like The Shadow, Quill's companion had come from the dead. The man with the ugly glower was the real Pike Fengel!
CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW TALKS
COOLLY, The Shadow faced Quill Baxton, undisturbed by the guns that prodded him from every side.
Death wouldn't come until Quill gave the word; and Quill had some reason to wait. Otherwise, The Shadow would have been greeted by gunfire the moment he entered.
Not for an instant did The Shadow's disguised face show a flicker of alarm. Instead, he outstared Pike, at those intervals when he studied the fellow. Finally, The Shadow centered his gaze on Quill. Keeping his hands half raised, he nudged his head in Pike's direction.
'Who's the lug?' queried The Shadow, roughly. 'Where'd he come from?'
'You know who he is, Shadow!' sneered Quill. 'Leastwise, you ought to know. You've got your mush fixed like his. He's Pike Fengel!'
'You mean, he looks like me?' The Shadow's growl was incredulous. 'Say - what is this? Some initiation that goes to guys who join up with your mob?'
Quill studied The Shadow closely, then looked at the real Pike. That was the moment when The Shadow repressed a grim smile. There was still a chance for life, even though the odds were long ones.
Baxton wasn't too sure that the newcomer was actually Pike Fengel!
That was proven, when Quill rasped for Pike to pocket his gun. Pike hesitated, snarled a protest. Quill prodded him; Pike let the revolver slide into his pocket.
'His story's the same as yours,' Quill told The Shadow. 'He says he got out of that side room. Only, he ain't handed me no smart stuff, like you did.'
'Whatta you mean - smart stuff?' scoffed The Shadow. 'I tell you how to make sure of your dough, so you think I'm The Shadow. That don't make sense!'
'No? Well, your shipping Remingwood off looks phony! Where'd you send the guy?'
'Where I told you. You know the place. If you don't believe it, send some of your gorillas to have a look.'
The suggestion was offered coolly. Quill started to admit that it was a good idea, then stopped himself.
