disappearance.
Two courses lay before The Shadow. One was to study the vicinity of the East Side Bank; the other was to locate Spider Carew’s hideout. The Shadow had chosen the latter. Spider Carew, spy and informant, was a connecting link with The Red Blot’s evil hand.
The Shadow, however, was confronted with a most difficult quest. He had picked up Spider’s trail outside the hideout. To discover the place itself meant a deductive process beginning with the spot where he had first seen Spider.
The Shadow knew the bad lands well. He had waited until afternoon; then, in the guise of an obscure mobsman, he had begun his survey. Gradually, he had eliminated different districts until he had centered upon several blocks. In one of these, The Shadow was sure, Spider Carew must be located.
Fate had played strange tricks that evening. Spider Carew, seeking to avoid The Shadow, had left his hideout while The Shadow, himself, was in the vicinity. By pure accident, Spider had taken a street which The Shadow had just abandoned; had made his phone call, and had doubled back to the hideout.
Leaving again, he had once more prowled a lucky course that had enabled him to escape The Shadow’s search. Less than three minutes after Spider had gone from the alley by his hideout, The Shadow, unseen in the garb of black that he had adopted after nightfall, had come to that exact locality.
Spider, to avoid The Shadow, had pleaded by telephone with Commissioner Weston. His interview granted, Spider had given little thought to Socks Mallory. He had felt sure that Socks would never know his game. But in eluding The Shadow, Spider had fallen prey to Socks Mallory’s killing hand!
THE SHADOW understood the psychology of Spider Carew’s ilk. He knew that the stoop-shouldered skulker would prefer his hideout as the best place of security. That was exactly where The Shadow would have found Spider; but for the freakish idea which had entered the little mobster’s mind - the odd thought of communicating with Commissioner Weston.
Thus, with Spider dead, with the hue and cry out for Socks Mallory, The Shadow was still on his set task. Gliding weirdly through the alleyway, this master of darkness paused when he came to the battered door which marked the entrance to Spider’s hideout.
This place impressed The Shadow because of its obscurity. Softly, the black-garbed phantom entered the doorway and flickered his tiny flashlight upon the rickety steps. There, he saw signs of use: a boarded hole in one step halfway up the flight. The Shadow ascended.
In total darkness, the invisible investigator tried the door at the top. It opened; The Shadow’s light again glittered. It fell upon the gas jet. A match flickered; the room was illuminated. The Shadow, his form grotesque and sinister in the wavering light, viewed Spider Carew’s hiding place.
A newspaper lay on the cot. A sheet of paper was resting on the chair. A black-gloved hand plucked up the second object. Keen eyes read a note which Spider Carew had scrawled. It was the little mobster’s effort to lull Socks Mallory, should the gang leader come here during the absence of Spider Carew.
The keen eyes read a warning:
Look out. The Shaddo is wise. I seen him last nite. He meens
trouble for you. I am goin to scramm so he cant find me. I dont want
him to folow me becuz if he got here he mite get on your trale. Wach
out when you go to get Tony. The Shaddo may be thare.
The Shadow studied this laborious letter. On the surface, it appeared to be a genuine bid by Spider to give Socks Mallory a helpful tip. However, The Shadow knew that it lacked sincerity. It would have deceived Socks Mallory, but not The Shadow.
Where would Spider have gone? This obscure hideout was the most logical place for him to have remained. Knowing that The Shadow had spotted him, Spider would not have made a change. He was the type to rely upon the security that he already possessed.
What was in Spider’s mind?
The last two sentences were full of meaning to The Shadow. They were unnecessary - these words that mentioned a specific event. There was but one excuse for them. Spider Carew had a reason of his own to expect trouble for Socks Mallory when the latter went to get the person called Tony. A coward, Spider was trying to square himself in advance.
A soft laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips.
Tony! There was one Tony whom Socks Mallory would like to get. Tony Loretti.
Perhaps Spider had fled to seek Loretti’s protection. Keenly, The Shadow divined that Socks had revealed to Spider that he intended to bump off the nightclub racketeer.
Again the laugh. The Shadow had rejected the theory that Spider had gone to warn Loretti. Had he chosen such a course, Spider would not have mentioned the big shot’s name. Double-crossing Socks, Spider would have wanted the gang leader to enter a trap unsuspecting.
No; there must be some other destination which Spider Carew had chosen.
The Shadow’s gaze fell upon the newspaper. It was folded; and as the gloved hands lifted it, the keen eyes saw the crumpling marks of thumb prints. Spider Carew had gripped this newspaper lightly while he had read words of importance to himself.
THE photograph of Police Commissioner Weston; the statement which the high official had made: these were the factors that had inspired Spider Carew. Again, The Shadow laughed. He had found the answer to Spider Carew’s absence.
Spider Carew had squealed to the police commissioner!
Nothing more than a pawn in the game which The Red Blot backed, Spider had realized that the law would welcome his revelations. His part as Socks Mallory’s informant - even though it had been spy work for The Red Blot - was not sufficient to put him behind prison bars. Spider Carew had decided to become a stool pigeon.
The warning note was his ruse to keep in right with Socks, should Weston ordain that Spider must return to the underworld to glean new information. By now, Spider would be telling what he knew - provided that nothing had intervened to balk his plan.
The Shadow held the clew to The Red Blot’s next stroke. The master plotter was using Socks Mallory as his right arm.
Murder was in the offing. Tony Loretti was to be the victim.
Was it to satisfy Mallory’s grudge against the big shot? Or was there a hidden purpose behind the contemplated deed?
Again, The Shadow’s soft laugh made strange whispers come in tremors through that little room. The gaslight flickered as though the ghoulish reverberations had swayed the flame. The purpose did not matter. The Shadow’s object was to meet The Red Blot’s minions.
A black-gloved hand extinguished the gas. Softly, The Shadow departed from Spider’s hideout. Newspaper and note lay in darkness, at the exact spots where The Shadow had found them. There was no token remaining of The Shadow’s visit.
A silent figure hovered along the darkened street. It crossed a thoroughfare beneath an elevated line. Nearing a more prosperous avenue, the weird form paused beside a parked cab. The door opened so quietly that the sleepy driver did not notice it.
The taxi man’s first knowledge that he had a fare came when a solemn voice spoke through the window. The driver stared in startled amazement; then grinned when he heard the uptown address which the speaker gave.
A long ride ahead; a good fare to collect. That satisfied the driver. He nodded as he heard the final instructions from his unexpected passenger, thinking only of the fare.
“There are two entrances,” explained the even voice. “One on the avenue; the other on the side street above. Go past the first. Turn the corner. Stop at the second. You will see the words ‘Club Janeiro’ above the door.”
The Club Janeiro! There, tonight, The Shadow would make use of his newest clew. At that pleasure palace, the master of darkness would await the next stroke of The Red Blot!
