"Like he told us, yeah," repeated Banker, with a snort. "But that may have
been the old baloney, sliced nice and thin. Maybe he was just counting on one big job, instead of four."
"And playing us for suckers," said Clip, with a slow nod. "That's what Grease thinks, although he hasn't said so."
The two silenced, as Grease came storming back. Slashing the curtain shut with one hand, Grease gestured a half-filled glass with the other. Turning, he took a gulp of liquor, then wagged a forefinger in emphatic fashion.
"Flush Tygert has pulled a runout," voiced Grease, thickly. "He'll clean up a couple of hundred grand out of those rocks he grabbed from old Breddle.
He
won't ever show his face around here; his own, or any other -"
A heavy thump interrupted. It came from the apartment door. Clip was the first man to reach it; as he opened the door, he heard a snarl from Grease.
Flinging his glass aside, Grease started forward with a drunken lunge, trying to tug a revolver from his pocket. Banker jumped in front to intercept him. Unable to guess what it was all about, Clip pulled a gun to cover the man who had entered. Seeing the fellow's face, Clip mouthed:
"Barney Kelm!"
Banker had Grease under control and was shoving him to a battered sofa.
Nudging the door shut, Clip concentrated on Barney. Ordinarily, such a situation would have called for smart bluff work, but it was useless, now that Grease had given things away. Clip came to the real point in a hurry.
"Hello, public hero!" he snapped. "Think you're a copper, too, don't you?
Figured we were working with Flush Tygert. Well, that means it's your own idea,
or the bulls would have come here ahead of you."
Barney's big lips spread in a wide grin.
"Suppose I told you that this joint was covered," he said, "with coppers all around, outside. What would you guys do about it?"
"We'd put the blast on you," informed Clip, "and then shoot it out with them. Only, you haven't got those coppers with you, Barney. You thought you could bluff us better alone."
Barney said nothing. He simply stepped to the table and picked up a greasy
pack of cards. He picked out four spades, showed them in his left hand, then dropped them faces upward.
"Spread 'em out," said Barney. His voice had lost its boom and was taking on a drawl. "Show all of 'em, fella."
His other paw showed sudden skill, as he made a deft sweep across the four
cards. There they lay, spread wide, before the astonished eyes of Clip and the other lieutenants.
Not four spades, but five!
Only one other man could perform that gambler's trick to such perfection: Flush Tygert. To see it duplicated by the seemingly clumsy hand of Barney Kelm was proof of the visitor's real identity.
Flush Tygert and Barney Kelm were the same. Like Jake Smarley, they were Five-face. Crime's new overlord was again with his lieutenants, displaying the third face in his collection.
"QUITE a surprise, eh?" chortled Five-face, reverting to the boastful tone
of Barney. "Maybe some of it needs explaining, so here goes. First I was Smarley, then I was Flush. The next step was to be Barney Kelm.
"That's why I headed for the gym. But I couldn't shake The Shadow off the trail. It didn't worry me a lot, though. I had my boxing stable close to Lody's
just in case that joint would come in handy, some day."
The lieutenants began to understand. They realized how well the part of Barney Kelm fitted Five-face. It wasn't so much the matter of his disguise, though that detail was perfect. The important thing was that Barney Kelm was a rover, like Jake Smarley and Flush Tygert.
As a bookie, Smarley had kept his office in his hat most of the time, and was often hard to find. Flush, the gambler, was in New York only between boat trips. Barney also traveled frequently, promoting fights throughout the country, and his friends heard from him only at intervals. All such factors were a tribute to the ingenuity of Five-face.
It was plain, too, that Five-face had considered the welfare of his lieutenants, after he had robbed old Breddle. First Grease, then Banker, finally Clip, had left the caravan, like tail men in a game of crack the whip.
Simply carrying the burden himself was not enough for Five-face. He had kept two thoughts in mind: to eliminate The Shadow, and to pin the blame on persons who knew nothing about him or his lieutenants.
The crowd at Lody's were made to order for that little game. With another laugh, Five-face described the final touch that he had provided.
"I was Barney when I ducked out of the cab," he boasted. "I bluffed the hackie into keeping on around the block. He thought I was still with him when he pulled up at Lody's. Meanwhile, I'd gone into the gym, by the back door.
"I wish that Lody crowd had croaked The Shadow. I phoned the tip-off that started them in the right direction. When I saw that The Shadow had ducked out on them, I figured I might as well make myself a public hero.
"So I gave the word to the boys, and they did the rest. I took the credit"
- Barney dug his thumb against his chest - "and I'm going to play it to the limit! Say - if there's anybody that people will trust, it's Barney Kelm. What a set-up the next job will be!"
Both Banker and Clip agreed. Their doubts of Five-face were completely dispelled. Eagerly, they looked forward to further service with this crime master who had covered their part in such skillful fashion. The only dissenting
voice came from Grease.
Rising unsteadily from the sofa, the oily faced lieutenant approached his chief.
"Listen, Five-face," said Grease, thickly. "You're talking about the next job. What about the last one?"
"You mean down at the Diamond Mart?"
"That's it." Grease shook his glass, which he had reclaimed. The glass clinked, and Grease eyed the ice cubes that were in it. "I'm thinking about ice," he said. "Not ice cubes" - he pointed to the glass - "but another kind of
ice. Diamonds!"
Grease looked at Barney as though he expected the big-shot to disgorge a glittering shower. Barney shook his head and gave a bland smile.
"I've just been with the police commissioner," he said. "I met a stuffed-shirt friend of his, a guy named Cranston. Old Breddle was there, too, and our pal Joe Cardona. I couldn't have lugged any sparklers along with me.
"Suppose I'd pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket" - Barney illustrated the statement - "and spilled a lot of Breddle's rocks on the table. Don't worry
about the diamonds. You'll get your split on them, when the time comes.
Meanwhile -"
Pausing, Barney produced a roll of bills. He began to peel off currency of
high denomination, but soon he came to a thick batch of one-dollar bills.
"There's a lot of leaves in this cabbage," said Barney, ruefully, "but they're mostly small. This is the wad I used to bluff Breddle. I can let you fellows have a grand or so - say twelve hundred bucks - to pay off your hired help.
"The next job will be for cash. Real mazuma, and plenty of it! You'll hear
from me when I'm ready, and it will be soon. This dough" - Barney distributed four hundred dollars each among the lieutenants - "will hold you over until then."
GREASE RICKEL was standing stock-still as he received his share. The oily racketeer was staring at the curtain that blocked off the dinette. Grease thought that the curtain bulged; he remembered that there was another entrance to the apartment, by way of the kitchen.
Lowering his gaze, Grease blinked at a patch of blackness on the floor.
He
thought that it formed a silhouette.
Actually, Grease's imagination was at work, but his guess happened to be correct. The Shadow was behind that very curtain; he had entered by the rear route.
The Shadow had overheard every word between the master crook and the lieutenants, and he had learned the name under which crime's overlord traveled.