That occurrence had changed all. It was destined to bring The Shadow to the threshold of astounding crime. Soon the master sleuth would be confronted with grim circumstances that would tax his mighty prowess to its limit.
For Cuyler Willington had gained a new and remarkable weapon: one that no criminal had ever possessed before. Hunted by relentless foemen, he owned the Q-ray machine that Seth Brophy had kept in the secret room where he — part designer of the mechanism — lay dead and undiscovered!
CHAPTER XII. A TRAP IS SET
IT was the next afternoon. The Club Cadiz was deserted, save for a few attendants who were loitering about among the tables. The obscure door to the gaming room was locked. Nicky Donarth would not be due for the next half hour.
A man came strolling into the barren night club. It was Tony Luggeto, the roulette operator who hailed from Monte Carlo. A smile on his dark, mustached face, Tony nodded to the idling attendants. He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the gaming room. He entered and locked the barrier behind him.
Tony’s smile persisted as he strolled across the gaming room. The floor was one large space, for the roulette table was absent. Tony continued until he reached the door to Nicky’s office. Here he paused and looked about in a cautious manner.
There was nothing unusual in Tony’s entering the gaming room. The key which he had used was one that Nicky Donarth had given him. But it was not Tony’s privilege to enter Nicky’s private office. The night club proprietor presumably possessed the only key to that inner room.
Hence Tony had need for caution when he produced another key from his vest pocket. He moved into the little passage, reached the inner door and inserted the key in the lock. The key worked. Tony entered the office, shut the door behind him, and turned on the light.
He opened a drawer of the proprietor’s desk. In it, he found a bunch of keys. Carrying these, he chose the steel door at the left side of the office. He unlocked it and revealed a flight of stone stairs that went downward.
Tony pressed a light switch. Bulbs glowed along the winding descent. The roulette operator stole downward. He came to the bottom of the steps. A light showed two metal doors — one on the left the other on the right. A stone wall blocked the end of the passage.
Tony unlocked the door on the right. The glow from the passage showed a light truck parked in what appeared to be a one-car garage. Tony gave a slight whistle. A man came from behind the truck and stepped into the light. It was Cuyler Willington.
The two shook hands. Then Tony, still using the ring of keys, unlocked the door at the left of the little passage. The light revealed the bottom of an elevator shaft. In the lowered car stood Nicky Donarth’s roulette wheel.
THE elevator car was nothing more than a platform; and its floor matched the thick, ornate rug that adorned the upstairs gaming room.
Cuyler Willington noted this and smiled. Tony Luggeto chuckled.
“Just like I told you it was,” he stated. “Trapdoor in the gambling room. Press the switch under Nicky’s desk, the trap breaks downward and the whole roulette layout comes up through the floor.”
“The same switch sends the works down. That’s why Nicky ain’t scared of the bulls. All he’s got to do is douse the lights and press the switch. Ten seconds — the works is gone. Down here.”
“Ready to be taken out aboard the truck?” queried Willington.
“Sure,” nodded Tony. “That part’s a cinch. Right out into the alleyway. The way you came into the garage. Nobody thinks any thing of that truck being here. Just an old truck in a sort of private garage.
“Good stuff,” commented Willington. “But how did you get down here, Tony, without Nicky knowing it? You were going to explain that to me when I phoned you—”
“Here’s the answer,” put in Tony, “Nicky leaves the keys right in his office desk. So he can send me or anybody else in there if there’s an emergency. We’ve each got a key to the truck.”
“But Nicky keeps the office key. That’s the hitch. Only, one night, he sent me into the office, giving me the key. I made a tracing of it, and measured the thickness with a ruler in Nicky’s desk. I had a key made. It worked.”
“Good,” laughed Willington.
Tony Luggeto looked pleased. His dark face looked unusually sallow in the dim light. He stepped into the little elevator room and stooped above the roulette wheel. Unfastening a clamp, he removed the wheel from the heavy base on which it rested.
“See?” Tony pointed to a hollow interior. “It’s all ready if Nicky wants to plant any kind of a gaff inside. There was a fellow trying to sell him an electric control. But Nicky figured he didn’t need it. We’ve been using bouncers.”
“Bouncers?” queried Willington.
“Yes,” replied Tony. He pulled a short strip of thin hard rubber from his vest. “Like these. Wedge one in the back of a pocket on the roulette wheel. The ball bounces out. We use them when a guy’s luck starts running too good on one special number.
“But I’ve been telling you all along, boss” — Tony paused with a gleam in his dark eyes — “I’ve been telling you that if we planted a gaff of our own in this wheel, Nicky Donarth would never know. Believe me, it sounded great when you called me and told me to go get that machine this morning.”
“Where is it now?” asked Willington, smoothly.
“In the truck,” replied Tony. “Still in the crate, like you told me to leave it. Say — it’s heavy enough, isn’t it? What is it — an electro-magnetic machine?”
Yes,” stated Willington. “Listen, Tony, When you first talked about this idea of double-crossing Nicky Donarth, I didn’t like it. I had made a deal with you to keep an eye on the people who came here. I wanted to know who was gambling; how much they spent. I told you to forget it when you sprang your plan of breaking in on Nicky’s gambling racket.
“But from what you tell me, Gyp Tangoli and Turk Berchler must have used Nicky’s office as their headquarters when they hatched their little scheme to rub me out. That means Nicky was in on the deal, to some extent. So I’m ready to get back at Nicky.”
“Good way to look at it.” commented Tony.
“Come on out to the truck,” suggested Willington. “Give me a lift with that crate. Let me plant the machine. I’ll make sure it works. Then I’ll tell you what to do.”
THE two men went out to the truck. The vehicle was a small one: for Nicky Donarth had intended it only for the purpose of removing his gambling equipment in a hurry, should police raid his joint.
They brought out the same box that Willington and Brophy had carried downstairs from the inventor’s private laboratory. They had no difficulty getting it into the elevator where the roulette table stood.
“The other truck was at the house when I got there this morning,” remarked Tony Luggeto. “I had to go around and pick up the key that you left in the envelope at Soulard’s restaurant. I had the other fellows take the luggage to storage. One of the truckmen helped me get this crate into my truck.”
“Good,” assured Willington. “Nicky didn’t know you took out the truck?”
“Not a chance.”
“All right. Slide upstairs while I plant this machine in the roulette wheel. Where’s the floor plug?”
“Right here. Shove back the edge of the carpeting. Don’t you want me to help?”
“No. I want to be sure that Nicky isn’t around.”
“All right, boss.”
Tony left. As his footsteps died on the stone stairs, Willington opened the box. He managed to hoist the machine from its container; for without the weight of the box, the task could be accomplished by one man.