Soon, the police were carrying away the wounded, while the pugilists were dragging slap-happy crooks from gutters. More patrol cars were arriving, to give the law full control. His guns stowed away, The Shadow saw Inspector Cardona step from a car and start shaking hands with Barney Kelm.
The fat-faced fight promoter was taking credit for having quelled the fray. As far as The Shadow was concerned, Barney Kelm was welcome to it. The Shadow was more interested in learning what had become of Flush Tygert. With that purpose in mind, he glided away into blackness.
Two battlers had vanished: one, The Shadow, a figure in black, his real identity unknown; the other, Five- face, who changed his personality after every
deed of crime.
When, where, and how they would meet again, neither could foretell; but the fact that there would be such a meeting was something that both knew!
CHAPTER X
THE PUBLIC HERO
SEATED in the library of the Cobalt Club, Lamont Cranston was scanning two
newspapers. One was several days old, telling of the foiled robbery at the United Import Co. It showed the photo of Jake Smarley, the missing bookie, beside the picture of Arnold Melbrun, the man who had outguessed the vanished crook.
The other newspaper was recent. It had two front-page photographs. One portrayed Flush Tygert, his long face displaying its habitual smile; the other,
the fat, serious features of Barney Kelm, who rated at a public hero.
Like Smarley, Tygert was wanted, but to a greater degree. Where Smarley had missed out on a robbery, Flush had succeeded. It would go hard with both, however, if they were found, for there were manslaughter charges against them, too.
Folding one newspaper, Cranston placed it on the other, so that only the two pictures showed, those of Smarley and Flush. Side by side, they made an interesting contrast. Facially, there was nothing in common between Jake Smarley and Flush Tygert; the remarkable thing was that both had disappeared.
Very remarkable, considering that they had not been highly rated in the underworld until their recent exploits. Neither Smarley nor Flush should be the
sort to have an airtight hide-away; yet, apparently, each had one. Not a trace of either criminal had been found by the police.
Placing the newspapers aside, Cranston drew a notebook from his pocket.
With a fountain pen, he wrote the two names in a vivid blue ink: Jake Smarley
Flush Tygert
Alone in the library, Cranston phrased a whispered laugh. Its low, uncanny
tone identified him as The Shadow. So did the ink with which he had inscribed the names. As it dried, it faded, obliterating itself completely.
It was the special ink that The Shadow used for important messages. He employed it, too, when he transcribed his impressions into written words.
The names linked. The Shadow had divined that Smarley and Flush were one and the same. His keen brain was visualizing the next step in the process; namely, that by this time, neither Smarley nor Flush existed; that the master criminal must have adopted another identity.
In tracing this vital fact, The Shadow had pictured two events from the past.
He remembered how Smarley had cleverly used Melbrun's cash box as a shield
to deflect bullets. Flush had done the same thing with the bag of gems when he fled from the Diamond Mart.
In flight, Five-face had been off guard, and each time, The Shadow had spied him. Though The Shadow did not know the title used by the master crook and therefore could not tell how many faces the criminal had, he was certainly on the correct track in the detection of crime's greatest secret.
An attendant entered the library, carrying an envelope. He saw The Shadow and approached on tiptoe, carefully trying not to disturb the quiet of the room. The Shadow was rising, in the leisurely style of Cranston, before the attendant arrived. Cranston's lips showed a smile as he scanned the note.
It said that Commissioner Weston was in the grillroom and would like Cranston to join him. Apparently, the commissioner had something to tell regarding the police investigation of the recent robberies.
IN the grillroom, Weston had a pile of police reports, stacked six inches high. Cardona was with him, and the two were thumbing through the papers.
Again, there was a resemblance between the raid at Melbrun's and the robbery in the Diamond Mart. Small- fry crooks had been quizzed, with only one answer.
First it had been Jake Smarley; now it was Flush Tygert. In each instance,
thugs blamed all crime on men whose identity the police already knew.
'Perhaps the two are working in cahoots,' said Weston, suddenly. 'They might even be sharing the same hide-out. An excellent theory.' Weston nodded, proudly, as he turned to Cardona and added: 'Make a note of it, inspector.'
While Cardona was making the note, two men entered. One was Arnold Melbrun; the other, old Breddle. The commissioner introduced the importer to the diamond merchant.
'Sorry about your misfortune, Mr. Breddle,' condoled Melbrun. 'I was lucky
to save the money that had been intrusted to me. I wish that you had experienced
the same good fortune.'
'You took the right precautions, Mr. Melbrun,' returned Breddle. 'I was just unfortunate, considering how well the Diamond Mart was guarded.'
Weston was laying out photographs on the table. He was anxious to link Jake Smarley with Flush Tygert, though he did not realize how closely the two could actually be identified.
Looking at Smarley's pictures, Melbrun gave a slow nod. From descriptions given by the office workers, the pictures showed Smarley, well enough. But when
he saw photographs of Flush Tygert, Melbrun shook his head emphatically. He declared that he knew nothing at all concerning Flush.
In his turn, old Breddle looked blank when he saw the Smarley pictures, but became quite voluble at sight of those portraying Flush. Unfortunately, Breddle had never seen Flush, except when the gambler came into the Diamond Mart; therefore, he could offer no worthwhile information concerning the mobster.
Both Melbrun and Breddle were rising, when Weston stopped them with a gesture.
'Another man will be here, soon,' announced the commissioner. 'Barney Kelm, our public hero. He and his boys gave us some very valuable assistance.
I
would like you both to meet him.'
Melbrun happened to have an appointment and could not stay. He regretted, however, that he could not meet the famous Barney Kelm.
'Give the chap my congratulations,' said Melbrun, 'and say that my door is
always open to all fine citizens like himself. I know that our friend Breddle'
-
he turned to the jeweler - 'will give Kelm proper thanks. Kelm came close to catching Tygert for you, Breddle. I wish he had been around when Smarley tried to rob my office.'
With Melbrun gone, Breddle was anxious to learn what progress the police had made toward reclaiming the stolen diamonds. Weston went over the police reports in methodical style, but he wasn't halfway through the batch before Breddle's face showed absolute gloom.
The jeweler recognized that the commissioner was simply trying to show that the law had done its utmost, though no real progress had been made.
Patiently, Breddle let Weston continue.
It was half an hour before the process was completed; all that while, The Shadow sat silently by, his mind engaged in other matters.
