“Choose someone,” ordered Zoda. “Tell that person your name — the date of your birth — any bit of information that you care to give. I shall divine the thought.”
Thus speaking, Zoda turned to pick up a crystal ball from its pedestal. Staring into the clear sphere, he announced:
“You are thinking of your birthday, sir. September the twelfth, 1897. You are also concentrating upon your name. Since you have mentioned it to the person beside you, I shall announce it. Your name is Herbert” — Zoda polished the crystal — “Herbert Ranger.”
The man nodded. There was further buzz. Zoda singled out more persons and answered their questions. Then as Cap Guffy signaled from beside Princess Marxia’s pit, Zoda produced his supply of books and began to sell them to the crowd.
One man remained after the others had passed along. It was Cliff Marsland. He had come into the Ten-in-One as a shill. He had also started the book sale by making one of the first purchases. He was reading his horoscope as he stood by one of the pillars that Zoda had set up in front of the platform. The mind reader, up on the platform, was arranging his books on a table at the rear curtain.
“The password went around.” Cliff moved his lips in a faint whisper. “Everybody in the circle sent it along. The word was ‘pyramid.’ I don’t know what it was for, or who was supposed to act on account of it. But I think it went to some of the fake roughnecks.”
Cliff thrust the horoscope book into his pocket and strolled along past Marxia’s pit.
EVERY word that he had whispered had reached The Shadow’s ears. For Zoda, the mind reader, was wearing a pair of earphones in his turban.
Wires ran beneath his suit to metal plates on his shoes. These formed contact with copper nails in the platform. The nails, in turn, were connected by wires to microphones in the pillars out in front of the platform. The tiniest whisper from near those pillars was audible to the mind reader.
This was the secret of the startling act that The Shadow had performed in the guise of Zoda. He had arranged the hook up while the Ten-in-One was empty. But his work had not stopped with the placing of the microphones in the pillars.
Along the ground ran other wires. One terminated in a mike by Marxia’s pit; another was set beneath Luke’s platform; the third was under the little stage where Cleed was resting. Thus The Shadow was ready to hear anything that the conspirators might say.
He knew that the word had been passed along. Just after the first show, he had caught a low grunt from Cleed. Luke had left his platform to sneak to Marxia. Both had spoken — individually — to lounging roughnecks who had worked as shills.
Hence Cliff’s report had been unnecessary. It had told The Shadow neither more nor less than he had already heard. No one had given any explanation for the word “pyramid.” It had merely been started along the chain, through Luke and Marxia, at the instigation of Cleed.
A roughneck was approaching Luke’s platform. Zoda moved away from the table with the books. He sat down in a chair and let his feet rest upon a definite spot. Words clicked through the earphones, muffled by the protecting turban. The roughneck was talking to Luke.
“I’ve got a job for you,” the roughneck was saying.
“Tattooing?” questioned Luke.
“Sure.” The roughneck laughed. “That’s your work, ain’t it? Get busy. I’m the first, I guess.”
“What kind of a design?”
“Anything. Only make it quick. And spread it over this red circle.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Say — ain’t you in the know?”
“Sure thing.” Luke laughed. “Only I got to look like I’m surprised, ain’t I?”
The buzz of the electric needle began. The smile showed on Zoda’s thin lips. The Shadow knew from Cliff’s previous report that tonight’s plans were between Croaker Zinn and certain mobsters whom he had probably prepared in advance. The chosen ones were the only members of the circle who had understood the meaning of “pyramid.” They were following instructions. For some reason, they were having the red circles obliterated.
A few minutes later, Cap Guffy came along the line, followed by Princess Marxia. He noticed that Zoda had become suddenly busy with his books. Cap passed the mind reader’s platform. He stopped to watch Luke at work on the tattoo job.
“Go ahead, Luke,” decided Guffy. “I was going to use you on the bally stand; but since you’re doing a job, you can stay here.”
CAP moved along to Cleed’s platform. Zoda, obscured by a curtain, promptly moved to a new location. The conversation that followed was audible through the earphones. It was an odd conversation, for Cap Guffy was the lone speaker. He was talking to Cleed and the answers from the pasty-faced man were nothing more than weary signs with his head.
“Come on, Cleed. I’ll use you on the bally… What’s that?… No?… When I say come along, you come along… Don’t want to, eh? Well — I get the idea. You’re supposed to be too dopey to get up… That’s right. You gave me the nod that time… Well, keep on nodding. Get off that cot. You can act like you are a hop-head when you’re on the bally platform… Still saying no, eh? Listen. I’ll call a couple of punks and have them grab you when you start to collapse. It’ll look good… Yes? That’s better. Come along.”
Zoda was looking from his platform when Cap Guffy conducted Cleed toward the front of the tent. The Cigarette Fiend was leaning heavily on Cap’s shoulder. Cap was talking to him as they walked along. Cap’s words, however, were inaudible to The Shadow, for they had passed the range of the microphone.
Luke had finished his tattoo job when the acts came back from the bally platform. Cleed had evidently pulled his collapse stunt, for two roughnecks were carrying him into the tent. Customers were buying tickets in frantic haste, anxious to see what had happened to Cleed.
The roughnecks dropped their burden on the army cot. One of them sauntered away. The other climbed up on Luke’s platform. Again, the earphones served The Shadow. This fellow wanted a new design to cover up the red circle. He was showing Luke a butterfly design on his right forearm. He wanted it matched with one on the left.
THE show went on. Luke paused in his tattooing to display his pictured back to the crowd while Cap Guffy lectured at the platform. Then, as the throng moved along, Luke resumed his work. When the round had been completed, Cap bellowed out for Marxia and Zoda to come out for a new bally.
The snake charmer brought along a pair of bull snakes. Zoda looked impressive with turban and crystal ball. Cap, as an afterthought, added Cleed and instructed the fake freak to “do another flop.”
Luke was again eliminated. He had finished with his second customer; but a third had promptly arrived. The bally finished; and another show went on. The procedure continued. When the last show was in progress, Luke had supplied five roughnecks with new tattoo marks to cover their red circles.
Cliff Marsland was a shill on the last show. He lingered in front of Zoda’s platform and whispered his report into the mike. Cliff had been watching the roughnecks along the midway. He had not witnessed the tattooing done by Luke.
“Five of the mob have slipped out,” informed Cliff. “I watched them pull away in an old car. I don’t know what they’re up to.”
There was no response from Zoda. Cliff went back to the midway. He was needed at the circus tent, for roughnecks were getting ready to pull down the big top and load it for tonight’s jump.
A recent message from The Shadow had instructed Cliff to pass his information to Zoda. Hence Cliff had a hunch that Zoda and The Shadow were the same. He realized that to play his part successfully, The Shadow had been forced to let the five mobsters embark upon their trip. Cliff, however, could see purpose in The Shadow’s action.