you will meet them, dismiss them, and bring Marsland here alone!'
'I get you, professor. We'll make him squawk!'
'If necessary, yes. Only if The Shadow, through some freak of chance, should escape our snare. Then,
and then alone, Marsland will prove useful. Otherwise, I shall eliminate him in my laboratory.'
PROFESSOR URLICH arose. He beckoned to Larry Ricordo and conducted the gang lord down the
spiral stairway to the laboratory. Urlich led the way to a table in the corner. He pointed to two bottles of
liquid: one green, the other red.
Into a test tube, the scientist poured a few drops of each liquid. The mixture became colorless. Urlich
held the tube in the light. Ricordo watched. A few minutes passed. The colorless liquid began to
effervesce. Bubbles appeared upon its surface. The scientist smiled as he raised a warning hand.
In a low voice, he began to explain the purpose of the experiment. With his free hand, he pointed to dead
rats and mice that lay upon the table. Larry Ricordo listened in astonishment.
Professor Urlich droned on in the voice of a lecturer. He spoke of the past: of Thomas Joselyn's
connection with the first scheme of murder; of failures and why they had occurred. He spoke of The
Shadow; and finally of silent death.
As the bubbling liquid ceased its action, Professor Urlich smiled and tossed the test tube in a sink. The
breaking glass tinkled ominously.
'As I have destroyed that tube,' remarked the scientist quietly, 'so can I destroy the lives of those who
block my path. I have told you the perfect plan, Ricordo. Go — and do your part.'
LARRY RICORDO descended the spiral stairway to the floor below. As he walked around the circular
passage, the gang leader shuddered at the clanking of his footsteps upon the metal floor. He was thinking
of the terrible machine that lay within the circular wall.
Death was Professor Urlich's motto. Death to all who blocked his path. Larry Ricordo, in his evil heart,
dreaded the man whose will he now was serving. He realized that at this very moment, he was walking
within a zone where death could strike at Folcroft Urlich's bidding.
Even now, Ricordo realized, a signal light must be gleaming upon the glittering machine within the inner
pit. That light was caused by Ricordo's treading on the metal plates. A swing of the switch — the gang
leader shuddered again.
He did not feel at ease until he had passed the outer door, and passed the range of the metal-floored
portico. Beyond the zones of death, Larry Ricordo stepped into his sedan. Late afternoon had come. It
was time to head Manhattanward.
Death! Silent death! It lurked in Professor Folcroft Urlich's strange, circular abode. Death would strike
The Shadow, should even he venture thither. Doom would be the welcome to any intruder who passed
within those sinister portals.
The Shadow! Larry Ricordo sneered as he started the sedan. The time would never come when The
Shadow would visit this menacing spot. The master of darkness would learn the taste of death without
ever discovering the hand that dealt it.
Stowed within the pockets of his coat, Larry Ricordo was carrying the bottles of red and green liquid.
The gang leader knew their potency. Death to The Shadow — silent death!
Larry Ricordo was setting forth to arrange the trail to doom!
CHAPTER XIV. MOBSMEN STRIKE
ANOTHER night had come. Denizens of the underworld had begun their assemblage in Red Mike's den.
The proprietor of the speakeasy, noncommittal as was his wont, cast no more than a casual glance
toward those who thronged his dive.
The capture of Slips Harbeck had created no great stir in gangdom. The detectives had effected it quietly
outside of Red Mike's. There had been no witnesses other than Gawky Tyson, Cardona's stool pigeon.
Red Mike, himself, was not perturbed by Slips Harbeck's fate. In fact, he had come to consider Slips as
a liability. Ricordo's lieutenant, fomenting schemes, had been too closely clinging to Red Mike. The
speakeasy proprietor was glad that the mysterious phone calls had ended.
Nevertheless, Red Mike regarded Slips Harbeck as a pal; and in the back of his head, Red Mike was
ready to bring discomfort to any one concerned with Harbeck's capture. Contrarily, Red Mike did not
trouble himself to seek the culprit who had brought about the arrest of Slips.
There were two men in the speakeasy this night who could have given Red Mike information concerning
Slips Harbeck's doings. One was Gawky Tyson; the other was Cliff Marsland.
Cardona's stool pigeon was seated near the door that led to the little side room. Cliff Marsland was
across the speakeasy. Besides them, there were perhaps twenty typical habitues of the bad lands, ranged
about the big room.
Two hard-faced gangsters entered. They said nothing. They sat at a table not far from the little room.
Both Cliff and Gawky eyed them; Cliff with a casual glance, Gawky with a furtive sidelong stare.
Minutes passed; another pair of mobsmen came in. They paid no attention to the first ones. They, too,
seemed occupied with their own business.
'Gorillas getting together,' mused Cliff. 'Good idea to watch them.'
Cliff's thought was a usual one. It was just such an assembly that had given the final tip-off to Slips
Harbeck's activities, the night that Ricordo's lieutenant had set forth to Alfred Sartain's apartment house.
ANOTHER man entered the speakeasy. Cliff Marsland's gaze narrowed. He was sure that he
recognized these hardened, evil features. Larry Ricordo!
Cliff had seen the gang lord in the past. Moreover, he was here to watch for any sign of Ricordo, even
though the chances of the missing gang leader's visit had appeared quite remote.
Another pair of eyes spotted Larry Ricordo. Gawky Tyson, too, was interested in the gang leader's
arrival. He had been planted here by Cardona in hopes of this very visit. Thus the gorillas were forgotten.
Both Cliff and Gawky became concerned with Ricordo.
The gang leader stopped to talk to Red Mike. As he glanced about the room, Ricordo scarcely noted
Cliff Marsland. But he did let his eyes pause mildly upon Gawky Tyson, who happened to be the nearest
person to him.
As a spotter, Ricordo lived up to his claims. It required only a second glance to assure him that Gawky
was the stool pigeon the police had posted here.
Ricordo caught the eye of one gorilla. The gang leader's gaze shifted back toward Gawky Tyson. That
was the sign that meant suspicion. The gorilla nodded. Ricordo went on talking to Red Mike.
There was no occasion for Ricordo to mark Cliff Marsland. Among the gunmen whom he had gathered
in dives other than Red Mike's, were two who knew Cliff by sight. Larry Ricordo repressed a leer as he
talked with Red Mike. The stage was set; now for action.
'So they grabbed Slips Harbeck, eh?' Ricordo spoke in a less guarded tone. His words reached both
Gawky and Cliff. 'Well, don't talk about it, Mike. I'll tell you why — I'm picking up where Slips left off.
Where's the telephone?'
Red Mike nudged his thumb toward the inner room. He was anxious to please Larry Ricordo. He had
never heard Slips Harbeck mention the gang leader, but he was willing to take Ricordo's say-so.
'Sit down,' offered Red Mike. 'Have a drink on the house, Larry. I'll let you know when a call comes for
you.'
'Can't wait, Mike,' returned Ricordo. 'I know the number. I'll call it myself. I was intending to
wait — that's why I came here. But with this crowd here I — '
'Somebody may recognize you, eh?'
