down.
“You’ve got the goods on me, Steve.”
“Maybe I have, Croaker. You’ll have the goods on me, before I’m through.”
“How’s that?”
“I’m going to tell you what I’ve done, and what I’m going to pull. I want you to go in on it.”
“What does it mean?”
“Plenty. We can both light out when we finish this. I started it; it’s up to you to put it through. It’s soft, too.”
Croaker regained his composure.
“Spill it, boy,” he said.
“Well,” said Steve, “you remember I had you keep watch on a couple of hotels for any guy that might be in from California? We talked about that when we were outside of Mickey’s place.”
“Yeah, and I was afraid some guy was listening in on us, too.”
“I remember that. It was all bunk. You saw a big shadow on the sidewalk and got scared. When we looked around, it was only some drunk leaning against a house.”
“Maybe he heard us.”
“What if he did? He would have watched you not me. And you didn’t get any dope on guys from California, did you?”
“No.”
“Well, I did. I found the guy I wanted.”
“Who was he?”
“Fellow named Scanlon. I bumped him off tonight, over at the Metrolite Hotel.”
Croaker whistled.
“That’s why I’ve got to scram,” resumed Steve. “I made the mistake of telling him my name. But I don’t think he spilled it, or had the chance to.”
“You were a fool to do that, Steve.”
“I didn’t expect to have trouble with him. I offered him five grand for what I wanted, up in the hotel room. He wouldn’t take it. I had to get it tonight. I shoved him into the closet and pulled the rod on him.”
“How did you get away?”
“Luck. Down the fire tower. But the dicks may be after me now. I’m going West; I’ve got plenty of dough to get away.”
“That’s why I’ve got to finish the job, eh?”
Steve Cronin leaned forward in his chair.
“You’ll finish it, Croaker, and you’ll split fifty-fifty with me.”
“That’s right. Give me the dope.”
“You know who old Wang Foo is, don’t you?”
“Yeah, the chink.”
“You know what he is? He’s a fence.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that. He gets rid of plenty of stolen stuff, they say, but nobody knows how he does it.”
“That’s what I’ve found out,” said Steve triumphantly. “I picked up the news in Frisco; not from one guy - just little pieces of it from different people, until I had the whole thing doped out, just as it is.”
Croaker’s face began to twitch excitedly. He leaned forward to listen more closely.
“Every six months,” continued Steve, “a guy comes East from Frisco. Never the same guy - always a different one. Nobody knows who it’s going to be. This guy comes to New York under the orders of an old chink named Wu Sun, who is the big noise of a tong in Frisco. All the guy does is go to Wang Foo and get a sealed box that he takes back to Frisco. That box carries more than just stolen goods. It has thousands in bank notes - tribute from Wang Foo to the big noise out West. Tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock is the time the messenger is to appear.”
“But how does he get the box?” asked Croaker doubtfully.
“Easy,” answered Steve. “The messenger says nothing. He doesn’t even know what it’s all about. He walks in on Wang Foo, and shows the old chink a disk. It’s sort of a Chinese coin. That’s the sign. He gets the box and leaves.”
“Where is the disk, Steve?”
“That’s the trouble, Croaker. I’m sure Scanlon had it. I could see him reach in his pocket when he got nervous. We were over by the door, and he switched the light out. Then he began to sneak over toward the window. I was near the bed, and I whisked off a pillowcase and shoved it over my gun. When I came after him, he moved toward the closet. The door was open; and before he knew what was up I shoved him in, and pulled the door. Then I let him have it. Sounded loud in the closet; but I don’t think they heard it outside.”
“Why didn’t you get the disk?”
“Couldn’t find it. It wasn’t on him. I let him drop when I opened the closet door, and I went through his clothes, but it wasn’t there. It must have fallen somewhere. I didn’t have time to stay all night.”
“Then we’re out of luck.”
“Maybe not, Croaker. That’s why I’m putting you wise. You’re smart enough to figure some way on getting in there to look for it.”
“Dangerous business, Steve.”
“Well, it’s the only chance. The disk must be in the room. If you can’t get it before tomorrow, try later. I don’t know that the messenger always gets to Wang Foo’s on time.”
“I’ll do what I can, Steve.”
“All right, Croaker. I’d do it myself, only they may be looking for me. I saw the house detective when I went in the hotel. I think he knows me, and he may have spotted me. I’ve got to get out of town.”
“Why didn’t you let Scanlon get the box, Steve, and then take it from him?”
“I was afraid the chinks might be watching him after he got it. They’re a crazy bunch.”
“Maybe they’re watching him now. Maybe I’ll get nabbed.”
“Not a chance, Croaker. Your big job is to get into Room 1417 at the Metrolite, and find that disk. Wang Foo isn’t supposed to know who the messenger is until he shows up. Even if he’s a few days late, the disk will fix matters. So get on the job, and be sure to make a quick get-away after the old chink gives you the box.”
Croaker did not reply. Instead he seized Steve Cronin’s wrist and pointed excitedly toward the wall, his face twitching in sudden terror.
“Look, Steve! That Shadow!”
A black outline vanished suddenly as Cronin gazed in the direction indicated.
“What shadow?” asked Steve. “You’re seeing things, Croaker.”
Croaker went to the window and peered into the darkness, his eyes trying to penetrate the surrounding gloom.
“I’ve got to scram, Croaker,” said Steve.
The other man turned from the window and shrugged his shoulders. He was worried about the shadow he had seen on the wall. He was thinking that perhaps Cronin’s story was a bluff. He was anxious now to get rid of this visitor, who knew too much about him.
As Steve Cronin left the apartment, Croaker stood in the doorway. He waited until his visitor was out of sight. Then, as he turned to the room, he stood petrified with sudden fear, and his twitching face held a distorted position.
For from his room came a low, mocking peal of laughter; a weird, uncanny laugh that was chilling to his heart. As he staggered into the lighted room he saw a mammoth shadow swing across the wall and melt into the black night beyond the window.
He rushed into his room and looked out into darkness. He could see nothing; the courtyard below was silent in its gloom.
Croaker stumbled to a chair and sat there, with dread in his heart; for he foresaw an unrelenting doom.
A taxi driver, waiting in his cab in the street behind the apartment house, was quite as surprised as Croaker. As the driver’s gaze chanced to fall on the wall of the building, he saw a shadow three stories up that suddenly moved downward.
