It meant that special measures would be needed, if The Shadow hoped to meet Five-face again. This evening's events had definitely clarified certain puzzling matters.
The Shadow's laugh changed to a strange comprehending whisper, as this master of the night began to plan his coming ventures, which - he hoped -
would
lead to the final trapping of Five-face!
CHAPTER XIX
OUT OF THE PAST
ARNOLD MELBRUN was right. The French bonds were fraudulent. Count Raoul Fondelac had turned a swindle into whirlwind crime.
As a result, the newspapers estimated that Lamont Cranston had lost half a
million dollars. Coupled with thefts committed by Flush Tygert and Barney Kelm,
this latest exploit raised crime's recent total above a million dollars.
Still, the public did not connect those deeds with one man. Jake Smarley was practically forgotten; Flush and Barney almost so. All talk concerned Count
Fondelac, who had proven himself quite as slippery as his predecessors. From the
moment that he had said good-by to Inspector Cardona, Fondelac had completely disappeared.
The cabby remembered driving to Fondelac's apartment, but the count had left the cab somewhere on the way. There wasn't a scrap of evidence in the apartment itself that offered the police anything resembling a trail.
Three men were distinctly interested in what had become of Fondelac. They were the lieutenants who knew him as Five-face. Grease, Banker, and Clip regarded themselves as very fortunate to have escaped unscathed and unrecognized. Still, they prided themselves on having remembered the importance
of a getaway, just as Five-face had.
It was Banker who broached the subject of the future, when the three gathered, at nightfall, in their dilapidated headquarters.
'Four faces gone,' tallied Banker, counting, his fingers, 'which means that Five-face has got just one left; his last one.'
'Yeah,' put in Grease, 'and maybe he's scared to show it. Ever think of that, Banker?'
'He'll show it to us,' asserted Clip. 'Why shouldn't he offer to divvy, with all the dough he's grabbed?'
Banker began to stroke his chin. Meanwhile, Grease put an answer to Clip's
question.
'We've got nothing on Five-face,' snarled Grease. 'It may look like we have, but we haven't. What if we squeal on him, supposing he doesn't show up?
He won't care if people find out that he was four different guys. Any one of the four would be bad enough for him, if the cops put the arm on him.'
'Five-face thinks in big terms,' insisted Banker, slowly. 'Remember, he told us there would be another job. I think there will be. He won't have to show his face.'
'Why not?' demanded Grease.
'Because he'll turn the job over to us,' explained Banker. 'That's when we
want to be smart. Unless it's as safe for us as it is for him, we want to say nix.'
The three began to discuss the new angle that Banker had suggested. They were in the middle of their parley, when a rap came at the door. All three were
congregated close, when Banker opened the door. With one accord, the trio stepped back.
On the threshold stood a man with a face so ugly that no one could have blamed him for changing it whenever occasion offered.
His forehead bulged above his eyes, which were as small as gimlet points; his nose had a sideward twist. His lips were large, but widespread; they showed
a clutter of misshapen teeth, that seemed to fill the ugly face.
The lieutenants knew that face. They had never expected to see it in life again. Banker's voice was hoarse, barely audible, as he spoke for his pals:
'Blitz Bell!'
THE ugly man stepped into the room and closed the door. His gait was crablike; one shoulder drooped, as he made his way to a chair. He didn't speak;
he simply picked up the greasy pack of cards and performed the flush trick, slicing a fifth club in among four others.
If he hadn't given that demonstration the lieutenants would never have granted that Blitz Bell could be Five- face.
'Go ahead, say it,' asserted Blitz suddenly, in a raspy tone. 'You thought
I was croaked, didn't you? Like everybody else, you fell for that story about the Feds getting me, a couple of years ago. Well, they got Blitz Bell - in a way.'
With both hands, Blitz stroked his face; the pressure seemed to mold it into a smoother visage. Then he let the bloated features return, in rubbery fashion.
'Here's the lowdown,' he rasped. 'I had a face lift, see? Before the Feds caught up with me. They thought I blew myself up along with the dynamite shack,
when they surrounded me. But that was because they didn't see anyone around who
looked like Blitz Bell.
'I had a good job done on this mug of mine. Ever since then, I've been able to change it into five, including my own. Funny, ain't it, the face I've had the most trouble with is my own? Only, I like it, and I don't give a bang if nobody else does.'
In his speech, Blitz Bell showed a confidence which the listeners shared.
The lieutenants had taken it for granted that Five-face would adopt an unexpected personality for the climax that he had planned. The guise of Blitz Bell fitted the bill to perfection.
Supposedly dead, Blitz was beyond the reach of the law, provided he could keep his secret. Grease, Banker, Clip were seeing a man who had stepped from the past; and even with Blitz's explanation, the thing still awed them.
They would never have dreamed that Five-face could be Blitz Bell, the notorious public enemy that the Feds had supposedly eliminated years ago!
Yet, on the table lay proof that Blitz was Five-face: those outspread playing cards with which he had demonstrated his identity. They were glad that Five-face had used his skill to prove who he was. It was a better token than any other.
To a man, the lieutenants were willing to follow Blitz wherever he suggested. They were anxious to learn what new crime he intended. Remembering Blitz by reputation, as well as sight, they knew that he would not rest on past
success. If opportunity offered - and Five-face had promised that it would -
Blitz was the man to make the most of it.
With a wide-lipped smile that exposed his fanglike teeth, Blitz Bell spread a newspaper on the table. He pointed to a picture of Count Raoul Fondelac and gave a raspy laugh. He tapped the teeth that bulged from his mouth.
'Plates,' explained Blitz. 'I had them made to match my own, before I got rid of the real ones. My teeth were bum, anyway. I've been four other guys lately, but I can still be myself when I want.'
Blitz thumbed through the newspaper, came to the page he wanted. Then, to the listeners:
'I said we'd pull a big job for a payoff,' spoke Blitz. 'That's what we will do, but we'll be after more than dough. I'm going to get back at the one guy who was lucky enough to stall us off!'
Alarm showed on the faces of the lieutenants. They thought that Blitz meant The Shadow. They didn't like the idea of hurling a challenge at so formidable a foe, even with Five-face as their leader. Blitz understood.
'I don't mean The Shadow,' he asserted. 'I mean this guy' - he pointed to a photo in the newspaper - 'Arnold Melbrun. He's the bird who outguessed me when I was Smarley, and saved a hundred grand for those
