who spoke.
“There’s nothing much to say, Wolf,” declared Furzman. “Things seem to have gone sour - that’s all. Maybe you didn’t plan the job right.”
“You been talkin’, eh?” Wolf glowered at Graham. “Think because your job went through you’ve got the edge on me?”
“Lay off that, Wolf!” growled Furzman. “You’re talking to me, see? You said you were coming up here to tip me off to what queered your game. Spring it.”
“Sure, I told you that,” agreed Wolf. “Over the phone - after the job was queered and my mob took the bump. I got plenty to tell you, too - and if this chesty guy had hit what I hit, he’d be cryin’ plenty.”
Wolf indicated Graham as he spoke.
“That’s your way of looking at it, eh?” quizzed Furzman. “Well, Wolf, you’ve got to show me. The Parkerside Trust was no tougher than the Terminal National - not as tough, for that matter.”
“Maybe not,” admitted Wolf, “but I got double-crossed. That makes it different, don’t it?”
“Double-crossed? How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mean by one of your mob -“
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that some guy got wise - and the job was stacked against me.”
“You mean the police -“
“No!” Wolf snarled as he leaned forward in his chair. “The cops - bah - if they’d been wise, we’d have knowed it. I’ll tell you who queered the job - just one guy - The Shadow!”
WOLF’S thrust struck home. Graham Wellerton, staring straight at King Furzman, saw the big shot’s lips twitch. The mere mention of The Shadow’s name was enough to cause any big criminal worriment.
“I’m tellin’ you straight,” insisted Wolf. “If the bank was wise - if the cops was wise - there’d have been somethin’ to show for it. But here’s what happened.
“Right inside the bank is an old stairway that goes down to the safe deposits. They blocked it off, see, when the bank was made bigger. Nothin’ but a solid wall down there now.
“The mob goes in. They start to cover the tellers. Then right out from the rail around that old stairway comes the shots. Pickin’ the gang off like they was flies.
“What happens? The customers duck for cover, the tellers an’ the watchman yanks out their guns. Half the mob was crippled - the rest started to scram. The bank boys had the edge. They clipped the outfit.”
“The newspapers said nothing about it,” interposed Furzman, as Wolf paused. “According to the accounts, the bank tellers resisted the attack.”
“Sure,” snorted Wolf. “That’s what they did - after The Shadow started it. None of them bank guys knew who began the mess. They grabbed the credit when the cops got there.”
“What became of The Shadow?” questioned Furzman.
“How do I know?” retorted Wolf. “He didn’t show himself. He must have walked out with some of the customers. He’s a smart guy - The Shadow - I found that out today.”
“What do you think of this?” asked the big shot, turning to Graham Wellerton.
“It sounds to me like an alibi,” returned the gentleman of crime.
“Yeah?” snarled Wolf. “You think I’m lyin’? I’ll fix you -“
“Someone may have caused the trouble,” interrupted Graham calmly, “but it couldn’t have been The Shadow.”
“Why not?” questioned Wolf.
“Because,” Graham responded, looking squarely toward his questioner, “if it had been The Shadow, you wouldn’t have made a getaway without a couple of bullets somewhere in your body.”
“Yeah?” Wolf was again indignant. “Well, it was The Shadow right enough - you can ask Pinkey Doremas if you don’t believe me. He was just inside the door when the shots began -“
“Where is Pinkey now?”
“Down in Red Mike’s place. He got plugged twice - I had to shove him in the car. I’ve got a sawbones down there to look after him - you know, the old doc who’s in wrong an’ who comes around whenever we need him.”
Graham Wellerton was leaning back in his chair, chuckling merrily. Wolf Daggert stopped short to stare at him. King Furzman angrily demanded the cause of Graham’s merriment.
“Do you want to know why I’m laughing?” questioned Graham. “I’ll tell you why, King. Wolf is yellow - up to his old tricks. He never went into that bank with the mob. He was laying outside and he helped the only man who managed to get away - Pinkey Doremas - the one nearest the door when the firing started!”
WOLF’S lips were fidgeting. The peaked face gang leader stared angrily at Graham, then glanced nervously at King Furzman. At last he spoke, in a wheedling tone.
“I ain’t yellow,” he pleaded. “I wasn’t in the bank - but it wasn’t because I’m yellow. You know the getaway counts, King. That’s why I was outside
-“
“Wait a minute!” Furzman’s exclamation was delivered in a serious tone. “We’re getting at something now. How far down the street were you, Wolf?”
“About a hundred feet,” said Wolf reluctantly. “Yeah - just about a hundred feet -“
“Around the corner,” added Graham calmly.
“What if I was around the corner?” blurted Wolf. “It don’t matter where I was, does it? I know how to manage my mob -“
Graham was enjoying another chuckle at Wolf’s expense. The yellow gang leader had admitted his cowardice. King Furzman, however, saw a more important angle to the situation. It was the big shot who ended the controversy between the lieutenants by injecting a growled interruption.
“The Shadow was in it, all right,” decided Furzman. “You can’t blame Wolf, Wellerton. The Shadow can queer any job when he starts out. Say - this is bad all around.”
“How?” questioned Graham.
“The Shadow must have picked up the trail of Wolf’s mob,” declared the big shot seriously. “They say he’s always snooping around to see what the gangs are doing. He cleaned up the mob today; his next step will be to get Wolf. That may lead him here - to me - to you -“
“All of which can be avoided,” interrupted Graham.
“How?” quizzed the big shot.
“Let Wolf lay low,” declared Graham. “Have him keep away from here - take his time about getting another mob. Then” - Graham followed the plan that he had suggested prior to Wolf’s arrival - “I can slide out of town with my mob and work somewhere else. That leaves you clear, King.”
The big shot nodded solemnly. Wolf Daggert, thankful that criticism had ceased, said nothing. The arrangements which Graham Wellerton proposed, came as a logical solution to the all-important problem.
“That’s the way we’ll work it,” decided King Furzman. “There’s no use taking chances if The Shadow is in this game. He’s dangerous - and since he had crimped you, Wolf, there’s a big chance that he’ll be after Wellerton next.
“You’re laying low from now on - get that, Wolf? As for you, Wellerton, you can make your own plans. Stop in tomorrow night and tell me where you’re heading. When will you be here?”
“Nine o’clock,” said Graham.
The gentleman of crime arose, picked up his hat and coat and reached for his cane. Wolf Daggert eyed him maliciously, then turned to King Furzman.
“What am I supposed to do now?” he asked. “Scram? On account of The Shadow?”
“The less you’re around here, the better,” returned the big shot. “You move along - and stay away until I call for you. That’s all for tonight.”
Gloomily, Wolf picked up his hat and coat. He prepared to follow Graham Wellerton. King Furzman arose and went to the door to summon Gouger. Graham and Wolf watched him. The long black streak began to fade away from the floor; slowly, steadily, a large silhouette dwindled into nothingness.
