Henshew always had an alibi for himself on those nights when Shark set forth murder-bound. Tonight, robbery was lacking; but a victim had been named for doom.
The half dollar that Henshew had dispatched to Shark was a death warrant, made out for Harry Vincent!
CHAPTER X. WITHOUT THE SHADOW
WHEN Harry Vincent reached the Hotel Metrolite, he had no inkling that he was in for trouble. In fact Harry was completely lulled by circumstances. Like Clyde Burke he had been bluffed by the story that Madden Henshew furnished.
Harry agreed with the jewel broker that the mastermind who controlled Shark Meglo must be a person of doubtful repute. As far as Harry could see, there was no direct lead to that extraordinary criminal. Joe Cardona would be a long while tracing the rogue.
True, Shark Meglo could provide facts; for Shark probably knew who the big-shot was. But finding Shark was a problem in itself. Shark possessed one ability that had rendered him invaluable to the supercrook who used him. That was Shark's skill at keeping out of sight. Even The Shadow had found it difficult to trace Shark Meglo.
One fact was obvious. The dial of death had began another circuit. The Silsam robbery had been one of a chain, always with those three week intervals. The next case would come within another few weeks, unless the law could block it.
Somewhere in Manhattan was another millionaire slated to become a murdered dupe like Silsam and the three before him.
Joe Cardona was planning to make public a description of Silsam's gems. That might crimp the murderer's game. There was a chance, though, that the master-crook could outsmart the law's measures.
If he did, there was only one person who could balk the next death.
That person was The Shadow.
Harry's chief would be back in New York before the deadline. That pleased Harry. He was confident that The Shadow must have divined hidden facts in this chain of death. Perhaps there was a peculiar reason why the robberies had been staggered three weeks apart. If so, The Shadow had certainly unearthed it.
HARRY'S speculation was correct. The Shadow had actually analyzed Henshew's methods of altering the gems for each new sale. That was why The Shadow had been willing to take a few weeks of absence from New York.
It happened, though, that The Shadow had not yet gained a trail to the jewel swindler. That was something that he had made plain to his agents.
The thought rankled Harry Vincent, while he was unlocking the door of his hotel room. Harry felt that he had failed The Shadow. There was a lead to the head criminal; one which the law did not suspect. That lead was Moy Ming, the missing Chinese laundryman; and it had been Harry's job to trace Moy Ming.
Harry had been too late.
Could The Shadow have found Moy Ming?
Harry's answer was yes. That troubled him all the more. His face was glum when he turned on the light of his hotel room. Seating himself in a chair, Harry began to speculate on methods whereby he could track the needed Chinaman.
The telephone bell rang. Harry answered. In response to his hello, he heard a guttural voice inquire:
'Dis Meester Vincent?'
'Yes,' replied Harry. 'Who is calling?'
'De shoemaker. Next door to de Chinese laundry. I close de shop for de night; but I find out something -
mebbe you like to know it.'
Harry remembered the shoemaker. He had chatted with the fellow and had promised to send over a pair of shoes to be repaired. He did not recall mentioning that he lived at the Hotel Metrolite, but decided that he must have done so without realizing it.
Harry had told the shoemaker that he had left some laundry with Moy Ming and that it had not been delivered. That had been sufficient explanation for Harry's desire to find the Chinaman.
'Very well,' said Harry. 'What is it that you want to tell me?'
'About Moy Ming.' The voice was thick, but eager. 'I find heem for you! He come by when I close de shop! He got a new laundry; working there tonight.'
'Do you have the address?'
The voice gave it; Harry made a notation of it. He thanked the caller and finished the conversation. He decided that the shoemaker must have called from a public pay station. The repair shop had no telephone.
His hand upon the doorknob, Harry remembered something. Rules called for a report to Burbank. It seemed unnecessary tonight, since The Shadow was distant from New York. Nevertheless, the routine was a permanent habit with The Shadow's agents.
Harry picked up the telephone and called Burbank's number. A methodical voice responded. Harry told the contact man where he expected to find Moy Ming, and promised a later report.
WHEN he left the Metrolite by taxi, Harry looked through the rear window. He saw another cab starting just as his taxi turned the corner. For a while, Harry thought the second cab might be trailing him. At last, it was lost in the traffic of the avenue.
Harry's cab veered to a side street. It reached Sixth Avenue and rolled between 'el' pillars. A block farther on, Harry looked back to see a couple of cabs in sight. It wasn't far to Moy Ming's new address, so Harry ordered a halt when he reached the street he wanted.
As the cab stopped, Harry was ready with the change. Dropping off, he took quickly to the side street.
He saw the cab roll ahead and no others stop at the corner. Harry decided that he had not been trailed.
Moy Ming's new place of business occupied a tiny basement. It was dimly lighted and Harry saw a Chinaman stacking laundry bundles on a shelf. Going down the stone steps, Harry entered.
The Chinaman swung about and eyed him narrowly. Though Harry had no way of identifying Moy Ming, the fellow looked ugly enough to be the one that Harry wanted.
Perhaps the suspicious glance was given because Harry had no laundry bundle, nor was he recognized as an old customer. It was easy to settle that point. Harry informed that he lived near the new laundry and intended to bring wash there if the proprietor could make the price right and guarantee good work.
Immediately, the Chinaman became voluble. He leaned across the counter and bragged in singsong English.
'My namee Moy Ming,' he proclaimed. 'Me do washee better than other Chinee boy. Better than any Melican laundlee. You lookee. I show you.'
Moy Ming seemed genuinely anxious to make a new customer. He lifted a curtain that hung in a small doorway and nudged his thumb toward washing machines in a lighted rear room. He wanted to show Harry his equipment; and Harry decided to take a look. It was a good way to get acquainted with Moy Ming.
Harry stepped through the doorway and Moy Ming followed. The Chinaman paused to slip the curtain back in place. His action was natural; Harry did not suspicion it. But he heard something that puzzled him. It was a scraping noise, from that same doorway.
Harry turned. He saw Moy Ming's fingers on a button. A heavy door was sliding shut to block the exit. It was on the inside of the curtain which kept it hidden from the front room. Moy Ming was transforming this rear room into a prison.
MOY MING'S one mistake was remaining inside the room with Harry. The Chinaman expected trouble on that score; for he whipped out a knife as Harry turned toward him. Moy Ming was quick; but Harry outspeeded him.
Before Moy Ming could threaten with the knife, Harry had pulled an automatic. Moy Ming recoiled as Harry covered him. That was just what Harry wanted. He jabbed his free hand for the Chinaman's wrist and caught it with an expert wrench. The knife bobbled to the floor.
Moy Ming tried to squirm away. Harry tugged the Chinaman's arm in back of him and bent the laundryman to the floor. Eye to eye with the ugly fellow, Harry demanded:
'Who sent you to Shark Meglo?'
Moy Ming grimaced. He tried to show ignorance. Harry's grip tightened on the Chinaman's arm. Moy Ming writhed his lips and uttered inarticulate sounds as if too tortured to phrase the name that Harry wanted.
Harry sensed fakery in the Chinaman's method; but he thought that Moy Ming was merely trying to stave off the necessary answer.
