murder was on its way, creeping in with slow-motion precision. Murder of the Dead Who Lived, unless Lawsham could be tricked into revealing the secret that could save them!
Soon, The Shadow was riding in the taxi that had stayed by to await him. Beside him lay Quill Baxton, breathing in the belabored fashion that maintained a ceaseless monotone.
That strange breathing was drowned by an even stranger tone, that issued from lips that looked like those of Pike Fengel. That tone, a whispered prophecy, was the laugh of The Shadow.
For The Shadow had found a way to enter Lawsham's close-guarded preserves. As Pike Fengel, he was bringing a human passport in the person of Quill Baxton, the most recent addition to the Dead Who Lived!
CHAPTER XIX. IN THE TEST ROOM
A TINY flashlight glowed upon a grimy hand; in the palm lay a paper, written in the scrawled penmanship of Quill Baxton. The tiny light went out. A figure moved along the sidewalk, to a gateway between two buildings.
That figure was carrying a burden. Lugging it through the gate, the carrier followed a darkened passage hemmed by old brick walls. He came to another gate, then a tiny courtyard where stunted trees grew from hardened ground.
There were steps that led downward to a rear door of a basement. That was the carrier's destination. He halted; found a bell-button and pushed it. Soon, he detected footsteps beyond the heavy door.
The grimy hand delivered a tattoo of knocks. A wicket opened in response to the signal. A blocky-jawed man spoke from within:
'Who is it?'
'Pike Fengel,' was the word from outside. 'Bringing Quill Baxton!'
A face thrust close to the wicket. The inside man saw the thuggish features that looked like Pike's. He didn't guess that behind that disguise lay the unknown face of The Shadow. The guard looked doubtful.
'Who did you say was with you?' he asked.
'Quill Baxton,' whispered The Shadow, hoarsely. 'Take a gander at his mush. You'll know him.'
Hoisting the man that he had carried through the passage, The Shadow shoved a drooped face into the light. The guard recognized Quill; moreover, he knew what had happened to the racketeer. He opened the door.
Together, The Shadow and Lawsham's servant lugged Quill to another barrier. There, the servant told The Shadow to wait, while he reported. It wasn't long before more servants arrived. They carried Quill through; The Shadow picked up a small satchel and followed.
Professor Lawsham was in a little corner room fixed like an office. It was an untidy place; among its furnishings was a book-strewn couch. The books were removed and Quill was laid on the couch. Eyeing The Shadow over spectacle tops, Lawsham motioned him to a chair.
The professor didn't doubt that this visitor was one of Quill's outfit. But there were questions that he wanted to ask. He put the first one:
'Your name is Pike Fengel?'
'Sure!' The Shadow gave a grin. 'That's me! Pal of Bosco Treff's. It was him got me into the racket.'
'Ah, yes.' Lawsham evidently recognized Bosco's name. 'And how did you happen to come here?'
'So's to bring Quill.' The Shadow pointed to the slow-breathing racketeer. 'That's easy to answer.'
'Yes, yes!' Lawsham's eyes were darty. 'But why did you choose this place?'
'Because Quill gave me the dope on how to get here. He wrote it out for me.'
The Shadow shoved Quill's direction paper into Lawsham's hand. The professor frowned.
'I know what you're thinking, prof,' said The Shadow, in his rough tone. 'Quill wasn't supposed to put nobody wise. Only, he did - and I was the guy. His idea was to double-cross you. Savvy?'
THE evidence bore that trend, and Lawsham was shrewd enough to see it. Clasping his hands together, he suggested that Pike tell his story. The Shadow gave it, suiting the details to his present purpose.
'Quill hands me this guy Remingwood,' The Shadow related. 'Tells me he's slated for the spot, but the idea is to stow him somewhere. Then Quill's coming here to collect five grand. I'm to show up later and tell how I croaked Remingwood.
'All the while, he's keeping the guy, to make sure you cough over the coin. And maybe - he makes me think it, anyway - maybe he's going to shake you down, later. So I takes Remingwood and croaks him!'
Lawsham's eyes showed sharp delight.
'You did that?' he exclaimed. 'Even though Quill ordered otherwise?'
'Why not?' The Shadow puffed his lips into a grin. 'Quill was staging a double cross. And the way I figure it, a guy's always O.K. if he fixes a double-crosser.
'When I get back with Quill, I fixed him! Took him like that' - The Shadow spread his hands to indicate a choking gesture - 'so's he wouldn't make no squawk! Then I hands him the gas pipe!'
'Rather a drastic step,' observed Lawsham.
'How come?' demanded The Shadow. 'I had to lug him here, didn't I? Anyway, Quill says that you can snap guys out of that sleep, if you want to.'
Reaching for the old satchel, The Shadow plunked it on Lawsham's desk.
'That's to hold the mazuma,' he told the professor. 'Only, five grand ain't enough. I ought to get that much for croaking Remingwood. Some more dough for fixing Quill.'
LAWSHAM was tapping the desk. He saw a possible flaw in the story. That was exactly what The Shadow wanted, and had expected. He didn't have to read Lawsham's thoughts; he had foreseen them.
There was a chance that Quill had needed special services from one of his men. Logically, he would have chosen Bosco; but Lawsham knew that Bosco was dead. Quill could have chosen Pike as substitute.
Pike, not Quill, might be the double-crosser. Knowing too much of the game, he might have gassed Quill, then cooked up the story, to claim the five thousand dollars - and more. Lawsham finished that mental process. Tilting his head, he looked shrewdly toward The Shadow.
'Think I'm stringing you, prof?' demanded The Shadow, preserving his thick-lipped grin. 'That's why I gassed Quill, instead of croaking him. Just so there wouldn't be no argument.'
'No argument?'
'That's it!' The harsh tone became earnest. 'Look, prof. I ain't selling you no bum bill of goods. You yank Quill out of this trance he's in and put the heat on him. You do it right and he'll go yellow. When he does, you'll find out that what I told you is the real McCoy!'
Lawsham considered; at last, he nodded.
'An excellent idea!' he decided. 'By tomorrow night -'
'Nothing doing!' The Shadow shook his head. 'I'm lamming tonight, and I want the dough that'll be coming to me. Besides' - The Shadow added the next bait shrewdly - 'there's a chance Quill may have put some other guys wise to something. If I was you, I wouldn't waste no time finding out. Quill's the bozo that can answer. If you don't know how to give the heat, I'll show you.'
Lawsham saw the value of the argument. He also decided that Pike's services might prove useful, if Quill refused to talk. Opening the door, Lawsham called his servants. He told one to remain with Pike; he ordered the others to carry Quill to the test room.
While the servants were present, Lawsham reached in a desk drawer, took out a leather-bound notebook. He didn't see the glitter that came to the eyes of the pretended Pike Fengel.
The Shadow knew, almost to a certainty, that the little book contained the formula for the antidote to the sleeping gas. To risk fighting for it at this moment would be too great, especially with three of Lawsham's men on hand.
Indifferently, The Shadow lighted a cigarette. He asked as Lawsham was leaving the office:
'How long you going to be, prof?'
'About a half hour,' replied Lawsham. 'Just why do you wish to know?'
'Thought maybe you had some books with pitchers in 'em,' returned The Shadow. 'I get the heebies, sitting around looking at nothing.'
Lawsham told the servant to bring some picture magazines from a book rack in a corner of the office.
Leaving, the professor closed the door. He decided that one of his capable watchers could keep Pike Fengel pacified.
IN the test room, Professor Lawsham consulted the formula book. His assistants brought him chemical mixtures as he called for them. From those, Lawsham compounded a greenish gas, that filled a large glass
