thugs blamed all crime on men whose identity the police already knew.
"Perhaps the two are working in cahoots," said Weston, suddenly. "They might even be sharing the same hide-out. An excellent theory." Weston nodded, proudly, as he turned to Cardona and added: "Make a note of it, inspector."
While Cardona was making the note, two men entered. One was Arnold Melbrun; the other, old Breddle. The commissioner introduced the importer to the diamond merchant.
"Sorry about your misfortune, Mr. Breddle," condoled Melbrun. "I was lucky
to save the money that had been intrusted to me. I wish that you had experienced
the same good fortune."
"You took the right precautions, Mr. Melbrun," returned Breddle. "I was just unfortunate, considering how well the Diamond Mart was guarded."
Weston was laying out photographs on the table. He was anxious to link Jake Smarley with Flush Tygert, though he did not realize how closely the two could actually be identified.
Looking at Smarley's pictures, Melbrun gave a slow nod. From descriptions given by the office workers, the pictures showed Smarley, well enough. But when
he saw photographs of Flush Tygert, Melbrun shook his head emphatically. He declared that he knew nothing at all concerning Flush.
In his turn, old Breddle looked blank when he saw the Smarley pictures, but became quite voluble at sight of those portraying Flush. Unfortunately, Breddle had never seen Flush, except when the gambler came into the Diamond Mart; therefore, he could offer no worthwhile information concerning the mobster.
Both Melbrun and Breddle were rising, when Weston stopped them with a gesture.
"Another man will be here, soon," announced the commissioner. "Barney Kelm, our public hero. He and his boys gave us some very valuable assistance.
I
would like you both to meet him."
Melbrun happened to have an appointment and could not stay. He regretted, however, that he could not meet the famous Barney Kelm.
"Give the chap my congratulations," said Melbrun, "and say that my door is
always open to all fine citizens like himself. I know that our friend Breddle"
-
he turned to the jeweler - "will give Kelm proper thanks. Kelm came close to catching Tygert for you, Breddle. I wish he had been around when Smarley tried to rob my office."
With Melbrun gone, Breddle was anxious to learn what progress the police had made toward reclaiming the stolen diamonds. Weston went over the police reports in methodical style, but he wasn't halfway through the batch before Breddle's face showed absolute gloom.
The jeweler recognized that the commissioner was simply trying to show that the law had done its utmost, though no real progress had been made.
Patiently, Breddle let Weston continue.
It was half an hour before the process was completed; all that while, The Shadow sat silently by, his mind engaged in other matters.
Thinking in terms of a disguised master crook, The Shadow was wondering how many faces the man could display and what identity he might be using at present. Even more important was the question of coming crime: whether the unknown could risk another daring robbery, and, if so, what it would involve.
A BIG-TONED voice brought The Shadow from his reverie. Barney Kelm had arrived; the bluff-faced fight promoter was receiving a welcome. When Breddle shook hands, Barney clapped a broad hand on the jeweler's shoulder.
"Sorry my boys weren't down at your place," declared Barney. "They'd have stopped Flush Tygert in a hurry. They've been talking about him all afternoon.
Say - if we could only locate Flush, I'd like to let them loose on him.
They're
like a pack of wolves, those boys, when I let them loose!"
Weston was introducing his friend Cranston. Barney gave The Shadow a powerful grip. Seating himself at the table, Barney tilted his derby hat back over his head and began to look at the police reports. Mention of his own name pleased him.
"So I'm a public hero," he chortled. "That's swell! They'll be pointing me
out when I walk along Broadway. You know, I was thinking of moving that gymnasium of mine. I didn't like it, because my boys were so close to Lody's.
"A bad influence, that place, but I'm glad I stayed. A good thing that I was there. Good, too, that I keep an eye on whatever is happening. When I heard
that shooting, I knew that something big was up. I took a look outside and saw Lody's door bust open. When those rats tried to put the cops on the spot, I knew it was up to me to stop them."
Barney's bluster was rather painful to old Breddle, who was still thinking
in terms of his lost diamonds. Cranston, too, seemed bored by all the palaver.
When Breddle decided to leave, the commissioner's friend went along. In the foyer, Cranston paused to make a phone call, then went out to his limousine.
Inside the big car, he slid open the drawer beneath the rear seat and rapidly cloaked himself in black garments. Watching from the window, he saw old
Breddle turn the corner, walking toward the subway. Opening a door with one hand, The Shadow reached for the speaking tube with the other. He spoke to the chauffeur, using Cranston's tone.
"I think I shall remain at the Club, Stanley," said The Shadow. "See if you can overtake Mr. Breddle before he reaches the subway. Tell him that this is my car, and that I instructed you to take him wherever he wants to go."
Stanley heard the slight slam of the rear door and started the limousine forward. It happened that the closing door was on the street side of the car.
The figure that left the limousine wasn't Cranston's. It was The Shadow who whisked himself away toward the darkness across the street.
While Stanley thought that Cranston had actually gone back to the club, the doorman and others on the sidewalk supposed that he had left in his limousine. Instead, The Shadow had taken up an unsuspected vigil. Obscured in the opposite darkness, he was watching the entrance of the Cobalt Club!
A taxicab coasted into sight. It stopped when the driver saw a tiny red gleam from a special three-colored flashlight. Moe Shrevnitz was the driver of that cab; The Shadow had summoned him through a call to Burbank.
But even Moe was rather amazed to learn that The Shadow was spying on the Cobalt Club, the place to which he had access as Cranston any time he wanted it.
The reason was explained when a burly man with a tired derby hat stalked from the club and strode manfully along the street. Instantly, The Shadow's light flashed green, but followed with a cautioning blink of yellow.
It meant that The Shadow was taking up a trail on foot, but wanted Moe to be close, ready if needed. The Shadow had used that system frequently; hence the process offered no surprise. The astounding thing was the nature of The Shadow's trail.
The master of darkness was playing a long hunch. He was picking up the trail of Barney Kelm, the public hero who rated as a champion of law and order,
not as a man who dealt in crime!
CHAPTER XI
THE THIRD FACE
GREASE RICKEL was in an impatient mood. The living room wasn't large enough to hold him. Pacing back and forth, he slashed aside the curtain of the wide doorway that led into a dinette. He kept on pacing through to the kitchen.
Looking at Clip Zelber, Banker Dreeb gave a shrug. They could hear Grease yank open the door of the electric icebox; they heard the rattle of ice cubes, the gurgle of liquid from a bottle. Grease was fixing himself another gin buck,
the sixth that he had sampled in the last hour.
"Don't blame the guy," said Banker. "Why should he keep sober? There's not
much chance that Five-face will be needing us."
"I don't think Five-face has lammed," returned Clip. "He's got a schedule,
like he told us."