“Yes,” he said, “I got nerve; and what’s more, I got it in for this fellow. I oughta been here when you caught him. I’d like to pound him a bit, but it ain’t no use now since you fellows finished the job.”
Jake suggested that heavy stones be tied to the body of the prisoner. This was done, and more rope was employed to truss the body so that it would roll easily when released.
Harry had again lapsed into unconsciousness. His mind was spared the details of this scene.
“Outside with him, boys,” came the order in the voice of English Johnny. “No lights, though. Put him in the car; lean him against the door on the right.”
“How about in front?” questioned Jake.
“No. In back. Better there. I’ve got a long arm. I can reach it.”
Tony and Jake lifted Harry and started to lug him to the door. The added weight of the stones caused trouble. They were removed, and Spotter carried the stones to the car, where they were attached again.
“I think he’s dead already,” whispered Jake, looking at Harry’s face.
“So much the better,” said Tony. “Just a case of dropping the body, then.”
They saw Ezekiel Bingham coming to the car with English Johnny. The big man had the jewel case. He tucked it in the pocket of the front door.
“Right handy there,” he remarked.
English Johnny entered the car, pressed the starter, and the motor began to hum. He turned the automobile on the grass, and the headlights gleamed upon the four men. English Johnny clicked them off again.
He stopped the car at the end of the walk that led to the front steps, and as his companions gathered close he leaned from the window so that his face joined them in the darkness.
“Leave it to me,” he said. “English Johnny will do the work. This here in the back seat - one second does the trick. You forget all about it, because I’m going to forget it. Then I’ll be in New York, and you can bet that those sparklers will be in the right hands before midnight.
“But I’m going to tell you something you don’t know. I saved this to surprise you. Didn’t want to start a lot of excitement while we had other things on our minds.”
Even Ezekiel Bingham drew closer. The old Lawyer sensed that he would hear amazing news. Something in the tone of English Johnny’s voice indicated it.
“Listen,” said the man at the wheel “You know this Shadow we talked about? He’s real, all right. He’s real, and I know where he is.”
“Where?” asked Spotter.
“Right where you can get him.” The voice of English Johnny was low and definite. “Bring a lantern, Tony, and follow me. Then I’ll explain.”
The man hurried to the house and returned with the light. It revealed English Johnny’s face, grinning with a knowing, sinister smile.
“The Shadow is real, boys,” repeated the man in the car, “and what’s more, he was here tonight. But he’s not the fellow here in back. He’s laying up yonder by the house.
“Wait! Don’t go yet! He’s safe where he is. How he got here, I don’t know. It was dark; I don’t even know what his face is like. I know he was The Shadow, though, because he came out of the night just like a shadow; and he landed on me. But he met his match this time. Met his match when he tackled English Johnny.
“You got this fellow that we put in back. I promised to get rid of him for you. Well, I caught The Shadow. I’m leaving him to you. It’s up to you to finish him. That makes it a bargain. Will you do it?”
“Yes,” declared Spotter, bringing his face into the light. “What did you do with him?”
“Knocked him cold,” was the sneering answer. “He may be dead for all I know. Strapped him with his own belt, and mine, too - it’s a trick I can do quick. Gagged him with his own handkerchief. There he is, waiting for you, done up like a suitcase, right where I nabbed him. Take a peek at him, all of you. Tell me what he looks like. He’s right there besides the steps; right where he popped out and tried to jump on me!”
Jake had run to the steps and found the human form.
“Here he is,” he called. “Bring the light, Tony!”
Tony hurried with the lantern. Jake was holding the prisoner’s body; the light shone down upon the muffled face. Spotter was leaning forward with eager eyes. This man who knew so many faces was anxious to recognize the one that he had never seen. Ezekiel Bingham peered from behind the others.
“Pull off the handkerchief,” they heard English Johnny call from the car. “See what he looks like!”
Spotter’s hand jerked the gag down to the neck of the huddled form. There was silence for an instant, then the lantern swayed in Tony’s hand. None of the four men could speak.
The first cry came from Spotter.
“It’s English Johnny!”
The realization of what had happened burst upon them. But as they stood stunned by their unbelievable discovery, the car at the end of the walk shot suddenly forward, whirled off along the makeshift road toward the lane that led to safety.
The truth had dawned upon Ezekiel Bingham and his crew of gangsters as they grouped about the limp bulk of their comrade, English Johnny.
The Shadow must have overpowered English Johnny before the big man had been able to enter the building. Then it was The Shadow, disguised as English Johnny, who had talked with them, and to whom they had given the box of gems. It was The Shadow who had agreed to murder the man they had captured at the window!
And it was The Shadow now who was driving away in English Johnny’s car; The Shadow who had deceived them; despoiled them; and who was mocking them.
For from the swiftly moving sedan came a peal of taunting laughter; a long, loud laugh that echoed through the night and died away among the trees.
CHAPTER XXXV
AT HEADQUARTERS
“Saturday night,” said Inspector John Malone. “The end of another week.”
He emphasized each word as he spoke, sitting at the table, his eyes staring vacantly at the wall before him.
“And it’s the last week, Malone.”
The voice was that of Joe Cardona, the detective.
“Are you trying to make it harder for me, Joe?” asked the man at the table reprovingly.
“Certainly not, inspector. I’m with you to the last minute. But that last minute is midnight. You know that.”
“You’re right, Joe. I’m through, all right. One hour more and it’s demotion - maybe worse.”
Cardona moved slightly from his position near the window.
“It’s all in the game,” he remarked. “All in the game, Malone; but it’s tough, just the same. I feel like I was responsible for it, too.”
“Don’t say that, Joe.”
“I can’t help it. This Laidlow case has been your finish. If we could have found anything at all, it might have worked out. But not a clew - not the trace of a clew.”
“You were up against it, Joe. You couldn’t help it. But it is tough to lose out this way.”
“Well, there wasn’t anything in that Chinese idea. You have my report. I went through the chink district and did it right. But I couldn’t find a thing.”
“Maybe the crook still has the jewels, Joe.”
“Not a chance, Malone. No crook will hold onto them this long. Especially a small-fry burglar like the fellow we think cracked the safe. It isn’t the murderer I’ve been after lately; it’s the gems. If we could bring in those sparklers, we’d have something. You would be the big noise on the force, inspector.”
“Why talk of that, Joe? Only an hour more and I’m through.”
“Why don’t you go home, old man? This is no place for you tonight.”
“The boys know I’m through, Joe. I want them to know that I’m standing by to the finish.”
The detective shrugged his shoulders.
“If there was only some way, Joe,” pleaded the man at the table. “Just some way to start something - I
