won’t get the news until Monday, you know; but I go off duty tonight, and it’s my last chance.”
The detective began to pace up and down the floor.
“You know, Malone,” he said suddenly, “I believe you were right about some big mind being behind this. That’s just why we’re up against it. If there is a big mind in back of it, Diamond Bert Farwell was just a beginner compared to this fellow. Why, we can’t get anything from either end. No clew from the murder; no trace of the stuff.”
Malone eyed the Italian thoughtfully.
“I figured that right from the start, Joe,” he said. “There’s more than one hand in this, but the stolen goods will reach the hand that’s behind it. Do you know what I think? I believe the fellow is so clever that even if we found the gems on him, we wouldn’t be able to convict him.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’d have to prove how he got them. Like as not he’s put himself in a position of an honest man. We could arrest him, all right; but he’d have some alibi - some way out of it.”
“Probably. But why worry? It won’t be your job to get him, Malone. I hate to talk this way. You’re the best inspector we’ve ever had.”
“Well, Joe, I’m here for the last night, anyway. It isn’t the job that matters, though. Every one knows I’m here. The boys know I’m no quitter. But the hard part is that I’ve failed. I hope you never go through it, Joe.”
The detective slapped his hand against his superior’s shoulder.
“I’m sticking here, too,” he said. “It may not mean much, because you’re going to lose out and I’m not. But I’ll be here to say good night when you leave at midnight.”
Malone glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past eleven. The phone bell rang. He lifted the receiver listlessly.
“What’s that?… I can’t understand you… Yes. This is Inspector Malone. You’re in a hurry? Calling from out on Long Island, eh?”
He passed the telephone to the detective.
“Hello,” said the Italian. “What?”
His eyes glistened with interest. Sharp, quick words came from his lips. He glanced sideways at Malone. The inspector was resting his elbow on the table, his cheek upon his hand.
The detective was talking excitedly.
“Go on… Yes… Yes… I got you… Better tell me who you are… No? Well, I’ll take a chance on it, anyway.”
He slammed down the receiver and dove for his coat.
“What’s up, Joe?” asked Malone in sudden interest.
“I can’t wait to tell you,” shouted the Italian, shaking his fists in wild excitement. “Can’t waste time, Malone. It’s a tip-off - a tip-off on the Laidlow jewels. It may have been a crank - maybe it wasn’t. I’ve got the men downstairs. We’ve just got time. A long way to go and a short time before midnight.”
He dashed from the room.
Inspector Malone slumped back in the chair. After all, why should he worry? He had been disappointed before on this case. Now, at the eleventh hour, there had been a tip-off - and it would mean nothing.
The Laidlow jewels! Perhaps Joe Cardona would find them some day, but Inspector Malone would not be around when he did.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE GEMS’ DELIVERY
A man strolled up the street in front of Wang Foo’s tea shop. Something bulged beneath his coat. He glanced cautiously right and left before he entered the building. The street was deserted; it usually was at eleven thirty, especially on a Saturday night, when most persons were occupied elsewhere.
Loo Choy stared without interest when he saw the big man enter. He had seen the man before; why should he be interested? Life was tiresome here at Wang Foo’s; in fact, Loo Choy had been moping for two days because his cousin, Ling Chow, had gone back to the place called Yonkers.
The big man stopped at the counter and looked at Loo Choy. From beneath his coat he drew a box and set it in front of the Chinaman. Then he beckoned with his finger. Loo Choy advanced to see what was wanted.
The red-faced man extended his hands and clutched Loo Choy by the neck. With a powerful movement he swept the little Chinaman upon the counter. A piece of rope lay handy.
In less than two minutes the guardian of Wang Foo’s tea shop lay helpless, with a gag in his mouth.
The big man lifted him with ease and deposited him in a convenient resting place, out of sight behind a stack of tea boxes. He walked calmly through the shop and found the door at the back.
He stepped back in the corner, and, extended his long arm, rapped four times upon the door.
The panel opened. A face appeared - the face of one of the giant Mongols who guarded the stairway to Wang Foo’s sanctum. The Chinaman peered through the door. Seeing nothing, he thrust his head through the opening. A firm hand slapped against the top of his head and pressed his throat against the bottom of the open panel. The Chinaman emitted a choking gasp.
The big man released him. The guard slumped inside the door. Then a hand reached in and found the latch. The door was opened and the visitor stepped in.
He walked boldly up the stairs and strode into the room of Wang Foo. The old Chinaman looked up from the desk. “Ah,” he exclaimed, in his evenly spoken English. “My friend. My friend, Johnny.”
“None other.”
“I note a box beneath your arm. Do I understand that you have brought me -“
“You’re exactly right, Wang Foo. Take a look.”
He laid the box on the table and lifted the lid. The glittering array of jewels would have brought a cry of amazement from the most lethargic person; but not even an expression of interest appeared on the face of the Chinaman.
“Spread ‘em out,” said the visitor, removing some of the jewels and placing them on the desk. “What do you think of them, Wang Foo?”
“Excellent,” replied the Chinaman, in expressionless tones. “They are very good. They are worth the price that I have agreed to pay for them.”
“Thought you’d like ‘em. The old boy got hold of them quicker than he expected. I got a note from him the same night I was here - after I’d gone home. So we got together in a hurry; and here they are.”
“I trust your meeting was held in a wisely chosen spot,” said Wang Foo with a faint smile.
“Don’t kid me, Wang Foo. You know the old boy well enough to bank on that. Besides, I bet you know all about it. Where we got together, I mean.”
Wang Foo did not reply. He was examining some of the precious stones.
“Well, I pulled the trick,” said the big man. “English Johnny came through with the goods. Say, Wang Foo, where are your big chinks tonight? You oughta have them around with all those sparklers on your hands.”
He strode to the curtained wall as he spoke, and brushed the covering aside.
“One of my men was downstairs,” remarked Wang Foo. “Did you not see him?”
“Sure I saw that fellow. He knew me and let me come up. But you ought to have your other blokes with you.”
“I do not need them.”
“Why?”
In reply Wang Foo pushed a button on his desk. A portion of the wall revolved on a pivot, five feet to the Chinaman’s right.
“That leads up into the house,” he said, with his thin smile, “Before any one could enter this room, I would be gone.”
The big white man marched across the room and glanced through the curtained doorway. Then he turned as though making an entrance, and looked at Wang Foo.
“You’re right,” he said. “Nobody would have a chance to get you. You could hop out all right. But what about
