It required several minutes for Cranston to come to his senses enough to recognize his surroundings. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, and began to ask incoherent questions. He complained of a pain in his head, and stated that he felt that it would have been better for him to have gone home this evening.
Walking unsteadily to the telephone in the other room, Cranston called the Cobalt Club, and learned that his chauffeur was still awaiting him. He told them to send Stanley to Traymer’s apartment.
“Sorry,” said Cranston to Traymer. “Guess I must have passed out completely. Everything seemed to go black after I laid down. How long was I out?”
“You seemed to be sleeping,” said Trainer. “I stepped out to get some cigarettes. When I returned, I was alarmed because I found some police downstairs. They said there had been trouble on the floor below.”
Cranston nodded as though that was a matter of no consequence. He seemed to be troubled about his condition, and he began to seek Traymer’s advice.
“Do you think I’ve been overworking?” he questioned. “That’s the only explanation that seems logical. I never had an attack like this one before.”
He paused speculatively while he rubbed his forehead and his eyes, blinking to shake off the effects of grogginess.
“Do you know what I’m going to do, Traymer?” Cranston asked suddenly. “I’m going on that cruise with Hargreaves. Positively, I am. I need a rest — a change — and that will be the way to get it. I’ll call Hargreaves the first thing in the morning.”
A pleased expression appeared upon Traymer’s countenance. He nodded approvingly, and commended the suggestion. When the doorman called up to announce that Mr. Cranston’s car had arrived, Traymer was only too glad to speed the departing guest. Cranston had made his final decision; he was going on the cruise.
AS soon as Cranston had left, Traymer seized the telephone and obtained the same number that he had called earlier in the evening.
Well did Traymer know that the affray in the apartment house must have involved Beef Norbin and his mob. What could have occurred to balk the entire plan? Lamont Cranston, doped and helpless, had slept through the whole affair!
It was Beef Norbin who replied to Traymer’s call. The gang leader’s growl was expressive. Over the wire, he demanded to know where Traymer was. He seemed surprised to learn that the society man was in his apartment. Traymer, in turn, wanted to know why Beef Norbin had failed.
“The Shadow” — Beef’s explanation was low and cautious — “he’s the guy that queered the game. He was there — in your apartment — as near as I can make out!”
“Here?” Traymer’s voice quavered. “In my apartment?”
“That’s right,” responded Beef. “I sent five men up to grab that guy Cranston. The Shadow stopped them. He gave them the works. Only one of the mob got as far as the bottom of the fire tower. The Shadow picked him off in the courtyard. That’s why I don’t know just what did happen. Say — what became of the guy we were to get?”
“Cranston was here when I returned,” explained Traymer. “He was still groggy. Didn’t hear a thing. He decided to go home.”
“You let him go? Then we’ve got to get him later!”
“No, it’s not necessary now. I talked him into taking the cruise with Hargreaves.”
“Say” — Beef’s growl was indignant — “why didn’t you do that earlier? Then this mess wouldn’t have happened—”
“Couldn’t do it, Norbin,” retorted Traymer. “I had to take my orders. Cranston was slated — we had to chance it.”
“I knew his nibs would pull something like that,” grumbled Beef. “Well — it’s knocked my mob for a loop. The Shadow must have wised up somehow and sneaked in there to lay for us.
“I was down in the courtyard, and I just had time to scram when that bimbo began to pick the boys off from the fire tower. I’ve been waiting here just to get the dope from you — but now I’m going to beat it.”
“Right away?”
“Sure thing. You said this job was the last. That means I clear out. There wouldn’t be any rush if it wasn’t for The Shadow — but now that he’s on my trail, I’m scramming plenty fast. Take it from me, bo, you’d better mind your step. Play plenty innocent until you’re safe aboard on that yacht trip. The Shadow’s no dummy!”
MAURICE TRAYMER was thoughtful after his conversation with Beef Norbin. Did The Shadow know of his connection with this chain of crime? Did The Shadow know that he had lured Lamont Cranston to the apartment — there to drug him? Or did The Shadow attribute all to the work of Beef Norbin?
Traymer laughed nervously. He could understand Beef’s trepidation. Twice had The Shadow delivered annihilating thrusts against the gang leader’s mob. The Shadow’s next attack might well be aimed at Beef himself.
Traymer smiled as he decided that his own part was too well covered; he felt sure that he would not be molested. Beef’s advice, however, was good. Play an innocent game while in New York — no use taking chances.
This was necessary, Traymer decided. It was also necessary to keep in friendly touch with Cranston; to jog the millionaire into going on the cruise as he had said he would.
Maurice Traymer was satisfied. The last leg of the game had been reached. From now on, The Shadow — no matter how capable he might be — could do nothing to foil the well-planned schemes in which Traymer and Norbin were playing active parts. The Shadow was up against a master mind — one whose ingenuity and ruthless cunning still impressed Traymer as being superior to The Shadow’s vaunted prowess.
Mentally, Traymer pictured the situation. Beef Norbin, his work done, now sliding into cover to confer with the man who pulled the strings in this grim game. Visions of wealth — the gold of the Patagonia — and strange, remarkable ambitions — flashed through Traymer’s mind.
Lamont Cranston — who, tonight, had escaped the fate that had overtaken others — was traveling toward his New Jersey home. Tomorrow, Cranston would unwittingly play into the hands of those who had sought to capture him unsuccessfully. That was Traymer’s last thought — the picture of Cranston, half asleep, riding in his chauffeured limousine.
In this thought, Traymer erred. Cranston’s limousine was actually heading toward New Jersey at that moment; but its only occupant was Stanley, the uniformed chauffeur. Lamont Cranston was not there. In fact, Lamont Cranston had completely disappeared.
Traveling northeastward from New York, a swift coupe was burning up the road. At the wheel, invisible in the darkness, was a man who had shortly before appeared as Lamont Cranston, but who had now adopted the mysterious garb of a black-cloaked personage.
For the second time tonight, Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow. Within his shroud of darkness, he was heading forth upon a new mission. The Shadow’s destination was the sandy strip of land where Harry Vincent was stationed.
The Shadow was on his way to East Point!
CHAPTER XVI
TROUBLE BREAKS
HARRY VINCENT was worried. Waiting alone in Malbray Woodruff’s cottage, he sensed that trouble was brewing. Since his talk with the artist that morning, Harry had counted upon Woodruff taking a conservative attitude, and fitting himself into a common-sense game of waiting.
Whatever might be happening at East Point, Harry knew well that he must withhold action until he received a reply to his message to The Shadow. That answer would come tonight, via Professor Kirby Sheldon, The Shadow’s impromptu messenger. By tomorrow morning, Harry could learn all that need be known.
In fact, Harry, in his note to The Shadow, had promised to keep Woodruff under curb. Therefore, as Harry tuned in at ten thirty on the radio, and heard no emphasized announcement from the proper station, he knew that The Shadow expected him to play tight until the morrow.