Sherbrock's own workroom, he saw three more in different corners of the room.
It was an office, also, for Sherbrock was seated behind a desk, going over stacks of correspondence.
He looked up, studied Cranston briefly, then dismissed the husky watchman.
ROGER SHERBROCK had a strong, deep-lined face that marked him as a businessman, rather than an artificer; but exacting work had taken its toll of him. Any man who followed the profession of the lapidary invariably acquired a careful eye, and Sherbrock was no exception to the rule of gem cutters.
Nevertheless, he seemed able to take time out from his professional work to talk terms with customers, particularly those who looked as prosperous as Cranston.
Sherbrock was all business when The Shadow mentioned diamonds; but when the gems came from the briefcase, the lapidary promptly reached for a magnifying lens, pressed it to his eye and forgot that he had a customer, in order to examine the uncuts. Meanwhile, The Shadow made a further appraisal of the strong room.
Behind Sherbrock's desk was a huge door that dwarfed the heavy safes. It was the front of a large vault that measured at least six feet in every direction, something which could readily be estimated, since the door of the vault was partly open.
Since the vault was empty, The Shadow assumed that Sherbrock placed the more valuable gems into some of the smaller safes, and wheeled them into the vault when he closed up shop. A very logical process, since movable safes could be rolled from one workroom to another, whenever required. Such a practice was the perfect way to keep rare jewels under lock, except when Sherbrock's assistants were actually working on them.
The uncut diamonds interested Sherbrock, but he was loath to discuss their merits at so late an hour.
'If you would come back tomorrow, Mr. Cranston,' he suggested, in a brisk tone, 'I should be glad to examine these diamonds in detail. If you care to leave them, I can give you a receipt for them. You doubtless know that some of the most famous gems in existence have been entrusted to our custody.'
There was a keen look in Sherbrock's right eye, the result, perhaps, of its recent association with the magnifying lens. Yet his statement could have been a probing one, an effort to find out if Cranston supposed that Sherbrock had recently handled the cutting of the celebrated Star of Delhi. Certainly, the words offered The Shadow a chance to question Sherbrock on the subject.
But The Shadow ignored the opportunity. He preferred to have a longer chat with Sherbrock before discussing sapphires instead of diamonds. Reaching for the chamois bag that contained the diamonds, he quietly decided to take the uncut gems along with him.
That action, more than a blunt question, produced results with Sherbrock. Following his visitor to the door, the lapidary apologized for having been so abrupt.
'Some gems are coming in shortly,' explained Sherbrock, a trifle nervously. 'A very special assortment, from Baldwin Associates, one of the most reliable wholesale houses in the city. They always insist upon a detailed receipt for all the gems they send us.
'Therefore, I shall be very busy for the next hour, at least. Frankly, I do not like to receive shipments so late at night. There have been too many robberies lately, and the Walder affair was so shocking that I have felt uneasy ever since.'
Again, Sherbrock was laying a lead that might bring mention of the Star of Delhi. But his tone was such that anyone, even The Shadow, could have accepted it either of two ways.
It might be that Sherbrock knew much about the great sapphire, and was feeling Cranston out; on the contrary, Sherbrock gave something of an impression that he knew nothing of the gem's history and hoped that perhaps his visitor did.
The Shadow's only response was a disinterested nod. He strolled out through the main door, which the blunt-faced watchman held open for him.
As he descended the stairs, The Shadow saw an armored truck pull up in front of the building. It bore the name: 'Baldwin Associates.'
It wasn't sight of the truck that interested The Shadow, mostly. The other thing he noticed was a low-built car that cruised past, for no good reason, and swung into an alleyway that led to the rear of Sherbrock's building.
Observing a rear door on the ground-floor passage, The Shadow stepped toward it, only to find it heavily locked. At that moment, two uniformed men came in from the armored truck and started upstairs, carrying a heavy box between them. The Shadow drew back beneath the stairs and heard their footsteps pass overhead.
A third man was overtaking the other two, for The Shadow could hear his quicker, lighter footsteps.
Apparently, the burden carriers waited for him, for The Shadow heard voices; then the procession continued.
Meanwhile, The Shadow was sweeping hat and cloak from his briefcase, intending to obliterate the guise of Cranston and make a foray to the rear alley. New footsteps caused him to delay; they were very light and hesitating, as they came in from the front and moved a short way up the steps.
Dropping hat and cloak, The Shadow stepped into sight, as Cranston, just as he heard a girl's low, anxious voice:
'Lamont!'
It was Margo. The Shadow gave a quiet response as he stepped into sight. Margo clutched his arm across the banister. She didn't ask why he had gone from sight when the men from the truck entered.
Margo had something more to tell.
'Those men who came in -'
'I saw them, Margo,' The Shadow interposed. 'The two in uniform.'
'But did you see the third?'
The Shadow shook his head.
'I did!' blurted Margo. 'He was Dwig Brencott!'
In a style that was rapid for Cranston, The Shadow took a look out to the street. The truck was a short distance ahead, and no one in it appeared to be keeping lookout. Drawing Margo from the doorway, The Shadow pointed her to her car.
'Have the motor running,' he said calmly. 'Others may be along. If they come too close, get started.
Circle the block, and should they follow you, blow the horn. I'll recognize it.'
Margo smiled despite her tensity. Her car had a musical chime that played 'East Side - West Side,' and very probably crooks like Dwig Brencott wouldn't be running around with horns of that type, hence Lamont wouldn't have much trouble identifying the right note.
With Margo gone, The Shadow picked up his cloak and hat in rapid time. He was donning them as he hurried up the stairs. Though speedy, he was quiet, for he wanted to see where the husky guard was. The fellow had gone from the door, leaving the way clear.
Sliding into the large room, The Shadow neared the door of Sherbrock's workshop office and was flat against the wall when the husky guardian came out, leaving the door ajar.
Peering through, The Shadow saw that Margo was right. The third man from the truck was Dwig. He was wearing street clothes, and he was leaning over Sherbrock's shoulder while the lapidary sorted a large array of jewelry that strewed the desk. On either side stood the two guards, watching the process.
A gun half drawn, The Shadow was waiting for a timely moment to move in on the conference, when he heard a hoarse shout from the guard at the outer door. As The Shadow turned, a surge of men came straight for Sherbrock's office, hurling the human watchdog ahead of them. So impetuous was their dash, that they flanked in upon The Shadow before he could wheel away.
Twisting back across the doorway, The Shadow tried to trick the sudden attackers by a reverse dive in the opposite direction - a move that would have succeeded, had not one stalwart supplied a lucky flying tackle that carried himself and The Shadow right through the doorway, into the light of Sherbrock's office, where they rolled aside, just clear of the trample from incoming feet.
It was then that The Shadow gave his tackler a further fling and came up, gun in hand, to meet a somewhat dazed opponent who had a revolver, but who was slow in bringing it to aim.
Finger on trigger, The Shadow could have fired, but didn't. He recognized the face of the fellow who had
