Advancing through darkness, he reached the door and entered. A nervous hand gripped his arm. Cliff heard the door swing shut. Then came the flare of a match. Fingers shook as they applied it to a kerosene lantern. A light suffused the room. Cliff Marsland and Luff Cadley stood face to face.
CLIFF had known Luff as a hard-faced, heavy-built fellow who prided himself upon his strength. The man had changed in the few years since Cliff had seen him last. Luff’s shoulders were stooped; his face was drawn and pale. Only his eyes still showed a sparkle of what had once been a defiant flash.
“Been hoping you’d find me, Cliff,” confided Luff, his voice half wheezy. “I looked around for you, but I had to give it up. Afraid somebody would lamp me.”
“Somebody who’s gunning for you?” questioned Cliff.
“Yeah.” Luff nodded nervously, and his face looked troubled. “Murk Feeny. Said he was going to bump me after I got out of stir. I heard about it after I hit town. That’s why I took a dive out of sight. Say — you ain’t seen Murk, have you?”
“What would I want with him, Luff?”
“I don’t mean that, Cliff. I just figured maybe you’d seen him hereabouts. Watching this place.”
“Nobody outside when I came in, Luff.”
Luff looked pleased. He rubbed his hands and looked at the closed door; then blinked suspiciously.
“How’d you find this place?” he demanded. “If you guessed where it is, maybe Luff would, too.”
“Pal of mine was looking for you,” explained Cliff. “He’s the only fellow who could have spotted this hideout. I put him on the job when I heard you were looking for me. I’m glad I came in the front door, though.”
“Say” — Luff blinked again — “I’d have plugged you sure if you’d come in by the fire escape, Cliff. It’s just outside the window. I moved into this room so I could watch it.”
As he spoke, Luff gestured toward narrow windows. They were covered with old window shades, patched so that no glimmer of light could filter through their tattered surfaces. Cliff studied Luff’s pale face. He noted eagerness as well as nervousness.
Something was irking Luff’s brain. The crook was thinking of opportunity that he had awaited during his stay behind prison walls. He needed aid in crime; that was why he had sought Cliff Marsland.
Here in his hideout, Luff Cadley was ready to spill news to a former pal, unwitting that his listener had become an aid of The Shadow.
CHAPTER II. CRIME TO COME
“FIFTY-FIFTY, Cliff,” spoke Luff Cadley, in a wary tone. “Fifty-fifty on a job that’s going to be a cinch. Are you in?”
“I’m listening, Luff.” Cliff had taken a seat on a battered couch and was eyeing Luff, who sat forward on an upturned soap box. “I’m listening. Spill it.”
“I can’t take no chances, Cliff” — Luff’s tone was almost pleading — “and that’s why I’m offering to divvy. If you’re in, all right; but if—”
“What do you mean by ‘no chances’?” Cliff was noncommittal in his interruption. “What’s the catch?”
“There ain’t none, Cliff. Not if you come in. It’s the way I stand, that’s all.”
Cliff watched Luff steadily. Without making a single promise, The Shadow’s agent was cagily leading the ex-convict into further discussion. Luff was anxious to talk; Cliff knew that an indifferent attitude would accomplish more than any other.
“There’s Murk Feeny and his crew,” explained Luff. “They’re gunning for me, Cliff. While I was in stir, Murk said he’d rub me out if I ever showed up in New York. The tip was passed to me.”
“And yet, you’re here.”
“Yeah. It means I’m taken chances with the bulls, too. I wasn’t no goody-goody in the Big House. They’ve got me listed. You know that, Cliff.”
Cliff nodded; the gesture encouraged Luff.
“And then, besides that, there’s” — Luff hesitated; then leaned forward — “there’s The Condor. He won’t take me, Cliff, on account of how I stand.”
“The Condor?”
Luff nodded. He arose and crept forward, his eyes shining beads that glistened from his pale, hollow features.
“There was a mug in the Big House,” stated Luff, “who they called Cuckoo Gruzen. Remember him, Cliff? Kind of a daffy guy? But sort of wise-looking, too?”
“I remember him. Doing a stretch for bumping some guy in a brawl.”
“Yeah. Most everybody thought he was bugs. But he wasn’t. I found that out when he talked to me. Cuckoo Gruzen was all set for a sure thing when he got mixed in that fight and wound up in stir. He had a rod on him when he was pinched.”
“I remember. What happened to Cuckoo?”
“He croaked. Sickly guy; you remember what he looked like. Couldn’t stand the gaff in the Big House. But he knew he was going to kick off. He got a chance to spill me the lay. About The Condor.”
Luff paused to lick his pasty lips. Cliff looked unimpressed. His very attitude encouraged Luff to further statements.
“THIS ain’t no pipe dream, Cliff,” assured Luff. “The Condor is a big-shot; there ain’t nobody can match him. Six years ago he started working. He passed the word to smart guys what they were to do.”
“Jobs for all of them?”
“Yeah. And most of them have probably cleaned up already. But that ain’t all there is to it. That’s just the beginning. Figure it like this, Cliff.
“A bunch of smart workers, each starting out. Plenty of time ahead — six years it was, when The Condor passed the tips along. Each guy to bring in his load of swag, making sure, though, that nobody was wise.”
“And Cuckoo Gruzen was one of them?”
“Right. But knowing he was croaking, he passed his lay along to me. All I got to do is make the haul and breeze in with the stuff. Providing it’s before the thirteenth.”
“Of this month?”
“Yeah. That’s when the six years is up. That’s when The Condor quits waiting. Him and the guys that have pulled their jobs move out. After then, there’s no stopping them.”
“Who is The Condor?”
“Don’t ask me. All I know is how to reach him. Cuckoo spilled the dope. And it don’t matter who shows up with the swag. Even Cuckoo had never seen The Condor.”
Cliff’s lips soured. His expression indicated that he doubted the fanciful tale. Again, Cliff had used the best way to lead Luff along. Spying doubt on his visitor’s countenance, Luff became more anxious to convince his listener.
“Don’t you get the gag, Cliff?” quizzed Luff. “The Condor wants smooth workers. He don’t care who they are. He set the jobs. It don’t matter who pulls them. As long as a guy shows up with the swag, The Condor will know he’s good.”
“I begin to see it,” nodded Cliff. “That jam Cuckoo got into put him out of the running. So he passed the tip to you.”
“That’s the idea, Cliff. But he only wised me to one job, because that’s all Cuckoo knew about.”
“And what’s the lay?”
FOR the first time, Cliff had made a mistake. His direct question put Luff on guard. Mistrustful even of a man whom he considered a pal, Luff shied away. He backed to the soap box, sat there and eyed Cliff warily.
“I’m grabbing the swag,” he volunteered. “That ain’t your job, Cliff.”
“Go to it,” responded Cliff, with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Good luck to you, Luff.”
As he spoke, Cliff arose from the cot and strolled toward the door. His new display of indifference restored Luff’s confidence. The pasty-faced crook came to his feet and quickly blocked Cliff’s path.
“Don’t walk out,” he pleaded. “I gotta count on you, Cliff. Listen: I can’t go to The Condor after I make the haul. I gotta duck on account of Murk and the bulls. But I’m passing you the stuff, see? So you can join up with The Condor.”