'I must keep my engagement,' the crook insisted. 'I am sorry, but I cannot
remain to meet your friend - What was his name, m'sieu'? It has slipped me.'
'Arnold Melbrun,' repeated The Shadow. 'He should be here at any moment.
Wait, Count - here he is!'
IT wasn't Melbrun who stepped into the grillroom. The arrival was Commissioner Weston. Again, The Shadow was watching the features of Fondelac; they were not at all perturbed. In fact, Five-face simply gave a pleased nod when Cranston introduced Weston as the police commissioner.
'It is one honor, M'sieu' Commissioner,' said Fondelac, with a profound bow. Then, turning to The Shadow: 'I shall take these that you offer.'
This time, The Shadow caught a sudden gleam from the eyes of Fondelac.
Five-face was watching Cranston put away the French bonds. On the table lay Cranston's securities, double the amount that the trade required.
To give Fondelac his choice, Cranston had brought negotiable stocks and bonds that totaled considerably more than half a million dollars!
Would Five-face walk out with only half of those, letting the transaction appear bona fide until the fraud of the French bonds was discovered?
Or would he show his hand in full, by seizing all of them and taking to headlong flight, as he had done on other occasions?
The Shadow already knew the answer. Five-face would swallow the full bait.
Nevertheless, he knew the risk and sensed that this might prove a trap. To some
degree, he had to play the role of Fondelac; even more, he wanted to know that flight would prove sure.
It was Weston who paved the way for Five-face. Turning to The Shadow, the commissioner remarked in a brisk tone:
'Inspector Cardona is coming here, Cranston. I told him that I wanted him to wait outside for Melbrun. I've been worried about Melbrun lately.'
Weston meant what he said. Rather than crimp the Fondelac matter, he had actually told Cardona to look out for Melbrun. The commissioner did not realize
that such instructions could nullify the trap, so far as the law was concerned.
But Five-face recognized it.
Like a flash, the slow-moving Fondelac became a human dynamo. With a sweep
of his left hand, he scooped all of Cranston's bonds from the table and jammed them underneath his coat. Spinning toward the stairway, he whipped his right hand from his coat tail, bringing out a revolver.
There was a murderous glint in the eyes of Five-face, as the supercrook began his sensational departure. He was ready to kill if either Commissioner Weston or Lamont Cranston made a single gesture to halt him!
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BANISHED TRAIL
UNTIL that instant, Five-face could not have known that Cranston was The Shadow. If he had, he would have shown his hand before. In all his guises, Five-face had encountered stern opposition from The Shadow, and could have asked nothing better than to slay his mortal foe in combat.
Had Cranston's hand gone for a gun, Five-face would have known what it meant. His own revolver already drawn, the master crook would have been prompt with the blast. It was impossible, under present conditions, for The Shadow to stop the pretended Count Fondelac.
Such a move, however, was possible for Cranston. He showed just what could
be done, in a very surprising style.
Cranston was seated; his hands, having laid aside the portfolio, were on the table edge. They clamped, as he made an upward, forward lunge. The light table came with him, launched in a powerful fling for the darting figure of Fondelac.
Completing that upward hurl, The Shadow ended it with a dive to the floor,
tripping Weston with a side-swinging foot.
Five-face didn't see that clever finish, which might have told him that Cranston was The Shadow. Half dodging, Five-face opened fire, splintering the cloth-covered table that was flying toward him. He thought that those bullets would reach the men beyond, not knowing that they had flattened beneath the level of his fire.
The bullet-ripped table struck the crook's shoulder. It wasn't heavy enough to floor him. It was merely a portable table, of very light construction. But the tablecloth flapped forward, covering the head and shoulders of Fondelac.
It was like a living shroud that had flopped in from space, to play its part in ruining crime. As Five-face tried to snatch the cloth away, he merely wrapped it tighter. He was blundering toward the stairway, mouthing muffled yells. In a way, the thing was ludicrous.
The Shadow had counted on the table; not the cloth. His purpose had been simply to spoil an enemy's aim. Instead, he had entangled Five-face in a mesh that rendered the criminal physically helpless. In trying to reach the stairs, Five-face stumbled, and lost his gun as he struggled against the tangle.
With a shove, The Shadow thrust Commissioner Weston to his feet, sending him after the master crook, It was the simplest possible job for Weston. All that he had to do was tighten the cloth that already held Five-face half smothered.
Having propelled Weston in the right direction, The Shadow came full about
and drove for the kitchen door. He knew that Five-face had yelled with purpose;
that the tangled crook expected prompt aid. Such assistance could be coming only from the kitchen.
The door came flinging inward. Catching it with a side step, The Shadow slashed it shut again, ramming it against the faces of two thugs who were driving through. Then, pulling the door wide, he hurled himself upon the staggered pair, slugging them with a gun that he yanked into play.
Other invaders were in the kitchen, lunging toward The Shadow. He met them
with bullets, and new guns echoed the blasts. Cliff and Hawkeye were with the mob, nicking crooks in expert style.
The surge became a sprawl of bewildered, wounded thugs. The way trouble overtook them, they thought that The Shadow must have started it; yet they couldn't see a sign of any cloaked opponent!
Leaving the crippled crooks to Cliff and Hawkeye, The Shadow wheeled back to the grillroom, still Cranston to all who saw him. As he shoved through the door, a hurtling figure met him and began to grapple. Twisting his foe about, The Shadow met him eye to eye.
The face of Lamont Cranston was thrust squarely against the countenance of
his friend, Commissioner Weston!
They broke apart. Showing Fondelac's gun, which he had picked up from the floor, the commissioner tried to explain things.
'I thought they had trapped you, Cranston!' he panted. 'I saw them yank you into the kitchen. In my excitement, I forgot Fondelac -'
THRUSTING Weston aside, The Shadow started for the stairway. Snapping from
his stupor, the Commissioner followed. The tablecloth was lying on the steps, but there was no sign of Fondelac. He had dashed up to the foyer, carrying Cranston's stocks and bonds with him.
Things hadn't happened as Five-face wanted. He had expected to be well away before the commotion started below; more than that, he had counted upon his gun, which he no longer had.
He crossed the foyer at a lope, clutching the bonds beneath his coat. As he reached the outer door, a squatty man shoved in to block him.
Inspector Cardona had heard the shooting within the Cobalt Club and was on
hand, with a squad behind him.
'Quickly, inspector!' exclaimed Five-face. 'I'm Count Fondelac. The commissioner sent me up to find you. He said to rush your men downstairs and'
-
faltering, the crook gave a wince - 'and to help me out of here. I'm wounded.'
Cardona pointed his men through the doorway. Turning, Joe rushed Fondelac out into a waiting squad car. He knew who Fondelac was, and he didn't want the Count to die on his hands.
