"Well" — Quellan settled back with a deprecating gesture. "I should worry about it. The Shadow will have enough to keep him busy here. We'll have things easy, back East."
It was the final statement that brought a worried frown to Al Barruci's forehead. He saw the logic in the New York gangster's argument. He stroked his chin reflectively, then said:
"We've gone pretty far with it now. Cardona's got to take the bump. That's all."
"Let him take it," declared Quellan. "He's no friend of mine. But I want to hear him talk before he goes out — and it's more to your advantage than to mine."
Al Barruci was a man who made quick decisions when the occasion called for it. Moreover, he was naturally conservative. Also, he had been somewhat apprehensive about Snooks Milligan's quick action with Joe Cardona.
He realized now that they had worked too hastily. Without more ado, he arose and faced the New York gangster.
"Come along," he said. "Maybe we'll be in time!"
Jake Quellan followed him downstairs. Two men in the lobby arose the moment that Barruci appeared. The four left by a side entrance. Barruci and Quellan climbed into the rear seat of a sedan; the others took the front.
The New Yorker knew their occupations. One was Barruci's chauffeur; the other, his bodyguard. The man at the wheel nodded in response to his chief's order. The other man sat sidewise, keeping watch as they rode along.
"Maybe you've heard of this place where we're going," said Barruci, as they reached the outskirts of the city. "It was built to look like a country house, but Gallanta had it fixed as a blind to store hooch.
"Then we had to soft pedal the racket when Gallanta took his rap. So we've been using it to dump guys we don't want. Putting them where the booze was supposed to have been." The car was speeding rapidly along the shore of Lake Michigan. The New York gangster gave no betrayal of the tenseness he felt.
"No telephone out there," explained Barruci apologetically. "The place is kept empty. If there was a phone, we could have tipped Snooks to lay off for a while. Maybe we'll be in time — I hope so!" The final words showed that the Chicago gang leader shared the anxiety which he supposed gripped Jake.
The sedan drove up to a low house. The four men piled out, and Barruci led the way down the steps. They crossed a room, and Barruci gave a series of five quick taps at an inner door. Five taps responded. Barruci rapped twice. The door opened, and the arrivals stepped in to witness a strange scene.
Joe Cardona, completely unconscious, was drooping from the roller which held his rope-encircled wrists. One man was confronting the arrivals with an automatic. Another was standing by the winch. Snooks Milligan was at the wall, his hand upon a knob, on the point of giving an order.
"Barruci!" he exclaimed.
"Is that Cardona?" quizzed Barruci.
Milligan nodded.
"This is Jake Quellan," explained Barruci, indicating the New Yorker. "He's out here to make Cardona squawk. Has he told you anything?"
"No. Says he is looking for a spook."
Barruci was close beside Milligan.
"Cardona is after The Shadow," he said, in a low voice.
A look of surprise came over Milligan's coarse face. He motioned to the man at the winch to release pressure. Cardona's form slumped to the platform. Milligan stepped away from the wall. The Chicago gangsters watched, while the New York gunman strode forward and leaned over the form of Detective Cardona, who was still senseless.
He had shown his mettle to-night. He had borne the racking cruelty with amazing stoicism. His senses were gradually returning, but his eyes were still shut.
"You can't make him talk," growled Snooks Milligan. "He won't open his mouth—"
"Won't he?" rasped Jake Quellan's harsh voice. "I'll make him talk! I'll give you the dope on this guy. He's nervy enough, but he shies away from a rod. Flash a gun under his nose, and if he can't get away from it, he'll quit.
Quellan saw that Milligan was dubious. The New Yorker looked around the group — from Milligan to Barruci, and to the four other mobsters.
"Watch me," Quellan said. "Cardona's coming to. Watch me make him squawk—" He drew two automatics from his pockets as he leaned over the weakened detective. With one of them, Quellan roughly nudged Cardona's head backward so that the opening eyes were staring toward the ceiling. With the other gun, the New Yorker struck against the ropes that were dangling from the roller. Cardona's hands were bound, but he was free of the rack. His body slowly turned until it lay sidewise on the platform.
Stooping beside the platform, Quellan brandished one automatic close to Cardona's face. The detective's eyes opened; then closed. Rising slowly, Quellan turned toward the other mobsmen. It was Snooks Milligan who sensed what was about to happen. He caught the strange gleam in Quellan's eyes. In a flash, a complete understanding came to his startled mind.
He had no chance to utter his suspicion. He sprang forward with a sudden cry, drawing his gun. It was a futile effort. Quellan, hardly noticing Milligan's action, held his aim as well as his fire until the threatening gun had swung almost to a level. Then the New Yorker's automatic spoke. Milligan suddenly sank to the floor to avoid the shot, but it was too late. His gun rattled ahead of him. He had been shot just above the elbow.
The whole episode was a revelation to the other Chicago mobsmen. As they saw the New Yorker step back so as to protect Cardona's body — as they heard the peal of insidious laughter that rang from those firm-set lips — they knew the menace that confronted them.
The man who called himself Jake Quellan was The Shadow!
With cool indifference, this strange avenger had delayed his attack against the six enemies. The gangster at the door was his greatest danger, for that man was ready with his gun the moment that Snooks Milligan fell.
The Shadow's left arm bent before his body. Simultaneously, his right let its automatic rest upon the left fore-arm.
With precise, quickly gained aim, The Shadow pressed the trigger, and the threatening gangster slumped to the floor, his gun unfired.
Four men were coming up with their weapons. Al Barruci and his three henchmen were acting individually but simultaneously. They hurled themselves upon their enemy, and the barks of The Shadow's automatics sounded another note of doom.
There were reports on both sides now; but even at that close range, The Shadow remained unscathed. One gangster toppled before he could fire a shot. The Shadow, leaping forward, seemed to grapple with the body.
It formed a momentary bulwark against Barruci's quick fire. Then one of The Shadow's shots dropped Barruci.
A strange, short fight — unexpected in its beginning, amazing in its climax. Barruci and the man at the door lay still. Milligan and two others were writhing on the floor. The sixth gangster lay sprawled against the form of The Shadow.
Cardona, eyes wide at the sound of gunfire, saw his rescuer step aside. The leaning form of the gangster fell when the support was removed. It fell face downward on the floor. The Shadow's quick eyes were everywhere, looking for lurking danger.
Snooks Milligan was crawling helplessly away. His gun was by The Shadow's feet. Then another mobster, coughing blood, rose to his knees and made a futile dive for a weapon that lay on the floor. His effort ended in a helpless sprawl.
Realizing only that this man was a friend, Cardona tried to call a sudden warning, but the shout was no more than a vague rattle in his dry throat.
The Shadow heard, but did not receive the meaning. That was unnecessary. The quick eyes of The Shadow saw, and understood.
Snooks Milligan was raising his body against the wall. His left hand, dripping with blood from the wound, was gripping the knob against the wall. As it gained its mark, The Shadow fired. The gangster slumped forward, and lay pressed against the wall, but his dying fingers were turning, twisting at the knob.