hundred thousand dollars in total value. When Breddle had finished with his trays, Flush told him to take those that the other merchants held handy.
More diamonds went into the bag, and Breddle left the empty trays beneath his own counter. With the natural smile of Flush Tygert, Five-face told the other merchants to relax and looked unconcerned while Breddle handed over the valise, which now contained a quarter of a million in loot, at rock-bottom prices.
Straightening up from the counter, where he had leaned as though inspecting diamonds, Flush let his gun slide from sight. His last words were a warning that he would hold Breddle responsible, should any alarm be given. The threat meant nothing by the time Flush had carried the bag halfway to the big doorway.
With a gesture, Breddle ducked beneath his counter, and his neighbors followed his example. Breddle pulled a switch that gave an automatic alarm.
Customers at the Diamond Mart were instantly treated to a demonstration of how rapidly things could happen in those preserves.
To the strident clang of alarm bells, merchants scooped up trays and loose
diamonds, to shove them into safety. Guards appeared as if from nowhere - a few
from behind counters, others among the customers, additional men through doors that bobbed open along the walls.
They almost blocked the outer door before Flush could reach it. Only by a rapid dash did the lone crook get there first.
By his spurt, Flush gave himself away as the thief they wanted; but he was
smart enough to yank out his revolver and brandish it with one hand, while he swung the jewel bag across his body, exactly as he had done with Melbrun's cash
box when passing as Jake Smarley.
Flush fired, aiming for counters, not for the guards. It was a cute trick,
for it threatened the lives of merchants and customers. On that account, the guards gave him leeway. They wanted him outside, where he could do no damage.
To a man, they thought that the foolhardy gem thief would run right into the arms of the police. But when they reached the door themselves, they saw Flush leaping into a taxicab parked a short way up the street.
The guards aimed; before they could fire, guns roared from two low-built sedans that wheeled in from a side street. Before they could drop back, the guards saw the muzzle of a machine gun thrust out from one car, ready to rake them.
Down the street, police were piling from the old arcade, too far away to give rescue. The aid that came was from a different quarter.
A CLOAKED figure sprang into sight from the gloom of an elevated pillar only a dozen yards away. A fierce laugh, taunting, defiant, made the machine-gunners swing their formidable weapon toward the attacker in black.
Automatics spurted, in tandem style, from the gloved hands of The Shadow.
The men at the machine gun were withered. Their car kept on, following the
cab that Flush Tygert had taken. The other sedan also sped along, to cover the getaway. A third automobile was cutting in from another street. Mobsters had literally whisked themselves away from The Shadow's range.
But they couldn't escape this master foe who had arrived to take up the duty that the police had dropped. With the law triumphant in the arcade, The Shadow had sensed what was due at the Diamond Mart. Not quite in time to prevent the actual robbery, he was prepared, nevertheless, for the chase.
A cab lurched into view, arriving in almost as surprising a fashion as The
Shadow. Moe Shrevnitz was at the wheel; he had been cruising, looking for his chief. The rear door slashed open; the cab seemed to swallow The Shadow as it passed him. Momentarily jabbing the brakes, Moe let the swinging door slam shut.
Again, a strange, weird laugh quivered the gloom beneath the elevated, as gloved hands poked from the cab window, gripping a brace of automatics that still showed wreaths of smoke coiling from their muzzles.
The Shadow was on the trail of Five-face, the crook of many parts, who had
staged crime as Flush Tygert. How long the man of crime could retain his quarter-million-dollar loot was a question soon to be decided!
CHAPTER IX
VANISHED BATTLERS
VEERING westward from the Bowery, the chase covered a few dozen blocks in uneventful style, while The Shadow kept close tabs on the speeding cars ahead.
Ironically enough, the pursuit passed very close to police headquarters, on Centre Street, without producing a ripple.
Five-face had planned well. The battle in the old arcade, staged by riffraff acquired through the master crook's lieutenants, had drawn patrol cars
in the wrong direction. If The Shadow hadn't come along to take up the pursuit,
the getaway would have been perfect.
News was just reaching police headquarters when the caravan went by. In the radio room, dispatches were going out to patrol cars to pick up a fleeing taxicab and three convoying sedans. Perhaps crooks realized it, for they were increasing their pace, to get as far away as possible.
Unquestionably, they hoped to find a hiding place before the law was in full cry. The Shadow was preventing it, by his policy of dogging their trail.
Thus crooks were caught between two problems: that of being spotted by their speed, as soon as the full alarm went out; and the alternative of letting The Shadow overtake them.
They feared the first proposition less. The Shadow's victory at the arcade
seemed a superhuman accomplishment. People who stopped to get The Shadow usually
stayed too long. The Shadow would certainly draw patrol cars with his gunfire; after that, the crooks would be trapped.
So the speeding cars kept right ahead, and while Moe clung to the chase, The Shadow leaned through the front window and inquired how his other agents had fared.
They were all right, Moe reported. He had contacted them, somewhat battered and bewildered, outside the arcade, but on their way to safety.
Rescued by The Shadow, the agents had survived the police onrush by the simple expedient of lying low at the sides of the arcade and letting the surge travel past them. So many thugs had been fighting the police hand to hand that the agents had easily escaped notice.
Sirens were wailing as Moe finished his report. Patrol cars were on the job, searching for the fleeing caravan. Leaning from his window, The Shadow tried long-range fire at the wheels of a crook-manned car.
The vehicle was too far ahead, but the shots counted. Sounding loud in the
narrow side street, they were sure to be reported to the police when they cut in
along this route.
Results came sooner than The Shadow hoped. As his cab passed a corner, patrol cars appeared. Fortunately, they recognized that The Shadow's cab held a
pursuer, not a fugitive. Soon, they were actually gaining on The Shadow, a fact
which was quite important.
It meant that the last car in the caravan must have slowed somewhat, since
Moe was guiding by its pace. Thus, when that car swerved a corner, The Shadow ordered Moe to keep ahead.
Crooks fired a volley as The Shadow's cab whizzed by, and he returned the fire. The lone car fled by the side street, its occupants unrecognized.
Grease Rickel was in command of that car. He had found it waiting for him near the Bowery elevated station. Grease snarled curses as he took to flight.
It had been his job to decoy The Shadow and the police cars, getting them away from Five-face and the swag. The Shadow had seen through the ruse.
Only a few blocks along the straight route, Moe was picking up the real trail again. He had spurted the cab, drawing away from the police cars, but they were again beginning to gain. The fact told The Shadow that another trick was coming. When he saw the last car of the caravan keep straight ahead at a street crossing, The Shadow ordered Moe to turn.