Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 225 - The Star of Delhi

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THE STAR OF DELHI
Maxwell Grant
This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? CHAPTER I. THE SECRET SIX
? CHAPTER II. BAIT FOR CRIME
? CHAPTER III. CRIME IN REVERSE
? CHAPTER IV. HALF AN ANSWER
? CHAPTER V. CREEPS IN THE DARK
? CHAPTER VI. THE WRONG FOEMEN
? CHAPTER VII. PROOF OF CRIME
? CHAPTER VIII. REIGN OF MURDER
? CHAPTER IX. DEATH FINDS DEATH
? CHAPTER X. THE STOLEN LINK
? CHAPTER XI. THE BATTLER IN BLACK
? CHAPTER XII. THE FIFTH VICTIM
? CHAPTER XIII. DINNER AT NINE
? CHAPTER XIV. MASTER OF CRIME
? CHAPTER XV. CREEP OF DOOM
? CHAPTER XVI. TRAILS DIVERGE
? CHAPTER XVII. A MATTER OF PRICE
? CHAPTER XVIII. CROME'S WAY OUT
? CHAPTER XIX. CRIME'S FORCED THRUST
? CHAPTER XX. CRIME'S PROOFS
CHAPTER I. THE SECRET SIX
"The Star of Delhi!"
The man who spoke the words pronounced them with a tone of awe, as well he might. Resting in the
white plush of the opened jewel casket was a magnificent sapphire, the largest that he had ever seen.
It wasn't surprising that he recognized the gem, for it was Raymond Walder's business, as head of
Walder Co, noted New York jewelers, to identify precious stones.
But he hadn't expected to find the Star of Delhi in the possession of Armand Lenfell. Though a financier,
wealthy enough to buy the Star of Delhi many times over, Lenfell had never rated as a jewel fancier in
Walder's opinion.
Hence Walder's thin features, usually drab and expressionless, were registering amazement. He looked
toward Lenfell, saw a smile on the financier's broad, heavy-jowled face. Then Walder's eyes returned to
the Star of Delhi, as though drawn by a magnet.
It was certainly a remarkable gem. Dome-shaped, its curved surface smooth, the Star of Delhi was large
enough to fill the space between Walder's thumb and forefinger, had he placed them tip to tip. But color
and size were not the features that gave the sapphire its fame.
Deep within the gem, Walder saw straight lines, streaks of light that radiated like the spokes of a wheel.
Those scintillating shafts were the marks of the true star sapphire, a much-prized type of gem.
His breath returning, Walder began to express congratulations. Lenfell cut him short with booming tone.
"Convince yourself, Walder!" he said. "Make sure that this is actually the Star of Delhi."
Walder lifted the sapphire from its plush nest and calculated its weight. He produced a jeweler's glass
and studied the gem through the magnifying lens. He held the Star to the light for a time, and finally
returned it to the jewel case with a satisfied nod.
Then, quite suddenly, Walder became nervous. He glanced at the windows of Lenfell's study as though
wondering if the shades were fully drawn. He stared over his shoulder toward the door, which was
closed. He even gave a doubtful glance at Lenfell's modern safe, which stood behind the desk.
Lenfell inserted an indulgent laugh.
"I know what worries you, Walder," he said. "There have been many jewel robberies lately. But that is
no cause for alarm. No criminals know that I have the Star of Delhi; hence they will not come here to find
it."
Walder's eyes were still on the door. His face looked strained, for he was sure that he heard creeping
footsteps in the hallway outside. He remembered his surprise when he arrived at the house a short while
before, to find only one servant on the premises where usually there were many. Moreover, Walder
recalled that Lenfell had promptly told the lone servant to take the evening off.
Yet the creeps from the hall were real! They had increased too noticeably, to be the product of Walder's
imagination. Hoarsely, the jeweler began:
"Someone has entered the house, Lenfell -"
"I know it," interrupted Lenfell. "They are friends of mine. I want you to meet them, Walder. But first, you
must prepare yourself for another surprise."
Lenfell stepped to a corner of the room. From a closet, he brought out a long dark coat, which he put on.
Then, from a shelf, he produced a black hood that had two eye slits cut in it. Lenfell slid the hood over
his head and peered through the slits.
Instead of the broad-faced financier, he had become an ominous figure from which Walder instinctively
shrank. Then, feeling Lenfell's friendly clutch upon his arm, hearing the familiar voice from within the
hood, Walder regained some of his composure.
"Come, Walder." said Lenfell, his tone reduced to mildness. "There is nothing to fear, I assure you."
The jeweler gave a pinch-faced smile. He wasn't going to be frightened by a mere masquerade. Lenfell
was his friend, and was merely taking Walder to meet others who wanted to see the Star of Delhi, for
Lenfell had closed the jewel casket and was bringing it along. The friends were obviously in Lenfell's
library, for the hooded financier was taking Walder in that direction.
Then, on the very threshold of the library, Walder gasped with horror and would have sagged to the floor
if Lenfell's strong hand had not stayed him. Within the dimly lighted book-lined room, Walter saw
Lenfell's friends. To a man, they were hooded like their host, and there were five of them!
With Lenfell, the group formed a secret six, as forbidding as a semicircle of inquisitors. Eyes glistening
from hood slits, were fastened upon the slumping jeweler, as though accusing him, judging him, and
condemning him, all on sight!
AIDING Walder to a chair, Lenfell placed the jewel casket on a table and opened it. Walder saw the
gleam of the Star of Delhi, like a great blue eye, shining up to greet the strange band of hooded men.
Lenfell's voice, modulated to a kindly tone, gave Walder a vestige of relief, enough for him to glance
upward. Then his courage returned. One man of the throng had unmasked: Lenfell. Sight of the financier's
smiling face steeled Walder against the terror that his view of the rest produced.
"Be tranquil, Walder," said Lenfell. "I tried to ease the shock, by letting you see me in full regalia before
meeting the rest. These men are friends, but of the group, I am the only who can unmask. I shall explain
why."
Walder listened. He was getting used to the eyes about him. No longer did he imagine that they glared.
They were becoming milder each time he studied them. All the while Lenfell's voice, easy but emphatic,
was disclosing facts that Walder could comprehend.
"We are a syndicate of six," Lenfell explained, "who have contributed our wealth to buy gems from
foreign refugees. Our purpose is to convert those jewels into cash, through private sales, giving
unfortunate persons a fair return on the possessions that they are forced to sell.
"Of the six, I alone am known to the other five. Since they meet here in my house, I can unmask when
occasion demands."
Walder was nodding, actually smiling at the members of Lenfell's secret six.
"We have met with an obstacle," proceeded Lenfell. "There have been so many jewel robberies of late,
that wealthy customers are doubtful of our bona fide gems when approached, confidentially, by my
associates. Buyers fear that the refugee story is false; that we are trying to unload stolen gems.
"Since we must do something to prove our status, we have decided to cut the Star of Delhi, one of our
most important purchases, into six parts. Each of us will wear a ring containing a star sapphire from the
famous Star of Delhi. That fact, alone, will mark us men of integrity. However, we do not care to take
such a step without proper advice. We are asking yours, Walder."
Drawing himself together, Walder looked about the group; then stared at the Star of Delhi. He
shuddered, not through a return of terror, but at the thought of cutting such a rare gem into smaller ones.
Then, slowly, a canny look spread over Walder's features. His business sense outmatched his love of
gems.
"The Star of Delhi is unique," conceded Walder. "It might be worth half a million dollars, to the proper
buyer. But I doubt that you could find anyone nowadays who would pay more than a mere fraction of
that sum.
"Cut into smaller stones" - he eyed the great gem appraisingly - "each a perfect star sapphire in its own
right, the Star of Delhi would be more salable. Each of the six rings would be worth at least fifty thousand
dollars to its owner. There is merit in your plan, Lenfell."
Buzzes came from five hooded men; all those buzzes were approving. Lenfell heard them and took the
murmurs as a vote in the affirmative. He simply said:
"We shall have the stone cut."
Still staring at the great Star, Walder was thinking of another factor. Quite accustomed to the hooded
men by this time, he expressed his theme.
"You must find some way," he said, "to let people know that the Star of Delhi is in America, and that it
has actually been cut into smaller gems -"
Lenfell was interrupting with a smile that Walder noted.
"We are counting upon you to help us," said Lenfell. "You have seen the Star of Delhi, Walder. Your
word is beyond reproach. We have hoped that you would see fit to exhibit the six ring's, stating their
origin, without naming the man who placed them in your custody: that is, myself."
THE idea startled Walder for the moment. As he looked about, he fancied again that eyes were glaring at
him from the hoods. But Walder's business acumen came to the fore. He visualized the publicity that such
an exhibit would bring to Walder Co. Gradually, he nodded his willingness.
There was a wave of Lenfell's hand. One by one, the members of the hooded group departed, until all
were gone save Lenfell. Walder could hear their creeping progress down the stairs - some by the front,
others by the back, one by a side stairway that was little used. Then, back in Lenfell's study, Walder
gave a smile of real relief to find himself alone again with Lenfell, the Star of Delhi lying on the desk
between them.
While Lenfell was putting away his coat and hood, Walder made a suggestion.
"You may entrust the cutting of the stone to the proper man," he said. "I would say that there is only one
such man in New York."
Lenfell paused while opening the safe, where he intended to replace the Star of Delhi.
"You mean Roger Sherbrock?"
"I mean Sherbrock," replied Walder. "Of course, there are foreign experts here - better men, perhaps,
than Sherbrock. But they are men who have lost fortunes and might prove bitter. They would be
dangerous. You can rely on Sherbrock. I repeat, he is the only man."
"I shall see Sherbrock" decided Lenfell. The safe was open; he put the jewel casket in it. "You will hear
from me later, Walder. Meanwhile, accept my thanks for your kind co-operation. It is hardly necessary"
- he was extending his hand - "for me to add that I sent the servants out tonight so they would not happen
to see any of my hooded visitors."
Lenfell personally conducted Walder to the front door. Outside, the jeweler looked back at the large
old-fashioned mansion and gave another shudder at sight of its gloom and bulk. Into that shiver, Walder
put memories of the creeping sounds that he had heard, those weird indications of the advent of Lenfell's
hooded friends.
Then, briskly, Walder walked to the next corner to find a cab.
There were creeping sounds again in the old mansion. Armand Lenfell was making them himself as he
returned to his study. He didn't mind them; indeed, he rather enjoyed the weird sound, for Lenfell was
smiling, more noticeably than before. His smile had become a leer of an insidious sort, as he stooped at
the safe to reopen it.
Then, with the Star of Delhi again on his desk, Armand Lenfell sat back and waited, his leer taking on a
satanic touch as he gazed at the blue gleam from the great Star of Delhi. His head was tilted, for Armand
Lenfell was listening for new creeps in the hallway.
Creeps that would announce another visitor, less fearsome in appearance than the members of the secret
six, but one who would understand Lenfell better. Lenfell had spoken truly, in stating that his hooded
associates were banded together in a cause of good. His one lie had been his inclusion of himself in such
a worthy purpose.
Alone, unobserved by either Walder or the secret throng, Armand Lenfell could relax and reveal himself
for what he really was - a man with crime at heart. He was waiting for another of that same ilk, that
together they might plot an underhanded scheme involving the much-valued Star of Delhi!
CHAPTER II. BAIT FOR CRIME
THE exhibit of the six star sapphires, when announced a week later, was promptly heralded as the event
of the New York jewelry season. Raymond Walder, true to his word, surrounded it with integrity and
mystery.
Walder's statement that he had seen the Star of Delhi, was something unimpeachable. His declaration that
he could not name its owner, provided the mystery. He added, of course, the news that the Star of Delhi
had been cut into six parts, and other jewelers agreed that the process would render the gem, or
segments of it, more salable.
But Walder did not state who had cut the sapphire. He simply invited the public to view the sextuple
result.
Few persons in New York were more interested in Walder's coming display than was Lamont Cranston.
A millionaire collector of rarities, including jewels, Cranston seemed disappointed only because the Star
of Delhi had been reduced to a sectional form. He tried to treat the matter lightly, but he did not deceive
Margo Lane.
She could tell Lamont's mood, when they lunched together on the day of Walder's exhibit, and from
remarks he dropped, she was quite sure that he would have prized the Star of Delhi for his own
collection. It was too bad, Margo thought, that Cranston had not learned that the great Star was for sale
before it was hacked to chunks. Calm-mannered, his hawkish face often masklike, Lamont Cranston
seldom revealed his inner thoughts, even to an attractive and sympathetic brunette like Margo Lane. But
it was plain, on this occasion, that Cranston should normally have stayed away from the exhibit at
Walder's.
Mere sight of six lovely star sapphires, in place of one unblemished marvel, would certainly pain him.
Margo knew that Cranston was going to the exhibit purely from sense of duty.
That was because Margo also knew that this man who posed as Lamont Cranston was actually The
Shadow, master fighter who battled crime. As The Shadow, he couldn't afford to miss the Walder
exhibit, because it was the greatest bait for men of crime that had been offered in months.
The newspapers were full of jewel robberies. A few had occurred in New York, despite the vigilance of
The Shadow, but the rest had happened in other cities. Though the mob, like the master mind who
handled the game, was probably in New York, no leads were yet available. Stolen stuff, if peddled, had
been artfully fenced without being traced; all the more reason why The Shadow should be on the job.
Therefore, Margo was quite sure that Cranston wanted to visit Walder's to look over the customers as
much as the sapphires. He knew that crooks couldn't resist the lure that the exhibit offered.
It was fairly late in the afternoon when Cranston and Margo finally arrived at Walder's. The exclusive
jewelry store was under heavy guard. Armed guards stood outside, and others were posted at strategic
spots inside the store itself.
All other jewelry, the usual Walder stock, had been put away for safekeeping, except for cheaper items
that would interest the general public. Emphasis was upon the six sapphires.
The stones that represented the famous Star of Delhi were in a special burglarproof case in the exact
center of the store. The box, bolted into a stone pedestal, had a top surface of bulletproof glass,
protected by photoelectric devices connected with burglar alarms.
Sometimes, such cases had lights inside them. This one did not. The sapphires scintillated under the beam
of a spotlight focused from a ceiling dome.
Even in sixes, the sapphires were marvelous to view. They were the size of large peas, and quite as much
alike. Each had its identifying touch - the star formation - and all were set in rings of the same type:
heavy, plain gold.
People, passed along the rail that fronted the display and gave gasps of appreciation, so that the vaulted
space of Walder's jewelry store echoed constantly with one repeated simper.
MARGO was pleased to observe a flicker of passing interest on Cranston's immobile features. The
perfect match of the six sapphires intrigued him, as did the provisions taken for their custody.
But when he had finished looking at the gems and drawn away to the outskirts of the throng, his mind
went back to the persons present. Close beside him, Margo caught Cranston's undertone.
"Look for others who are staying around. People who seem too sure of themselves."
Margo looked. If her opinion had counted, The Shadow would have had about fifty suspects. Knowing
there couldn't be that many, Margo gave it up.
"I'm no good, Lamont," she confessed. "If you can pick any goats from these sheep -"
"I see one goat," interposed Cranston. "Look over by that notion counter, Margo. You'll recognize him."
Margo's eyes almost popped as she studied a young man whose face, though somewhat hardened,
looked to be the result of dissipation, rather than crime. She caught herself just in time to keep from
exclaiming his name too loud:
"Dwig Brencott!"
Handsome in his way, black-haired, with a complexion that would be defined as dark, rather than sallow,
Dwig was the pride of the night clubs. A member of cafe society, he never appeared in public until
afternoon, and from then on, could be seen in what some columnists considered the "best places" in
town.
Dwig was in and out, from one spot to another, until the closing hour, which was usually five in the
morning. It hadn't occurred to Margo, until Cranston mentioned it, that such a practice might be Dwig's
alibi. Dwig had a way of being somewhere else, very often. There were many times when he might even
have been out of town.
It could be that Dwig was the mainspring of the jewel mob, so far as actual robberies were concerned. If
so, he was falling for the blue bait. Whether or not he intended to go after the six sapphires, Dwig hadn't
been able to resist the temptation of looking over the situation. The Shadow's theory was right; not only
that, it was proven.
Of all people, Dwig Brencott wouldn't be hanging around the cheap jewelry counter, striking up an
acquaintance with a melancholy-looking clerk, unless he had some purpose in mind. He would be more
likely to chat with Raymond Walder, who was standing behind the sapphire exhibit, except that Walder
was getting attention from socially prominent visitors, who might remember Dwig if he made himself too
noticeable.
"At seven o'clock," Margo heard Cranston say, in an even undertone, "the sapphires will be removed in
an armored truck. It will be dark at seven, and the truck will be the natural target for an attack. It might
be well for someone to follow the truck."
Margo nodded. She could think of someone perfectly qualified: namely, The Shadow. Hence, Cranston's
next words rather surprised her.
"Tacking an armored truck would be too difficult," he said indifferently. "There will be no trouble outside.
It would be interesting, though, to know where the sapphires go. Suppose you stay around, Margo. Then
you can follow the truck, and find out."
STILL wondering if her ears were hearing right, Margo forgot to use her eyes. She was looking at
Cranston, not at Dwig. But, in his turn, The Shadow was watching Dwig Brencott. He saw the sleek man
turning away from the counter, about to leave Walder's store.
Outside, accumulating dusk promised Dwig an easy departure. It also offered The Shadow an excellent
chance to follow him; hence The Shadow's casual instructions to Margo.
Before Margo could argue that trailing trucks was not her idea of a pleasant evening, Cranston strolled
away as if the whole matter had been settled. It was then that Margo discovered the coincidental
departure of Dwig Brencott, and understood.
In giving her one trail, Lamont was taking up an earlier, and more difficult, one. He was following Dwig
Brencott, on the chance that he might learn enough to stifle coming crime before it even began.
In either event, whether crooks planned to move tonight or not, Margo's task of trailing the truck would
be reduced to a matter of routine. Should any threat of actual danger arrive, The Shadow would be the
one to accept it.
Of course, Cranston had neither stated nor implied that fact. He had a way of treating The Shadow as a
different personality than himself, even though Margo had long identified them as the same. It was just
another proof of The Shadow's perfect tact.
Considering how crooks were always gunning for the black-clad avenger who so often crossed their
paths, it was wise policy for The Shadow to deny the Cranston link, even among friends.
Proof of his sagacity was being evidenced outside of Walder's store, where Dwig Brencott, turning to
walk along the avenue, was taking a shrewd backward glance into the jewelry house. Had Dwig even
suspected that Cranston could be The Shadow, he might have noticed Margo's hawk-faced friend
strolling out with others who were leaving the exhibit.
As it was, Dwig simply classed them all as curiosity seekers who had seen enough of the sapphire
display. The sleek man was on lookout for persons who might be detectives, and he was quite sure that
none such had followed him from the store.
In the back of his mind, perhaps, Dwig might have been looking for a stealthy figure clad in black, but the
lighted doorway of the jewelry store could have offered no concealment, even for The Shadow.
When such a figure did appear, he came from across the avenue, where Cranston had gone, unnoticed.
Stepping into one door of a taxicab, Cranston had entered as himself, and come out the other side as The
Shadow, all in a matter of mere seconds.
He was on the west side of the avenue, where the buildings cut off the last rays of sunset. Under the
shroud of dusk, The Shadow was gliding, unseen, from doorway to doorway, keeping pace with his
quarry, Dwig Brencott.
Cloaked in black, a slouch hat drawn down across his eyes, The Shadow wore the famous garb that
enabled him to stalk an unsuspecting prey. With darkness on the increase, every minute was improving
the conditions that the cloaked investigator needed in his present expedition.
With nearly an hour until seven o'clock, The Shadow was confident that he could learn the essential
details of any crime with which Dwig Brencott, might be concerned.
That was why a whispered laugh came from The Shadow's hidden lips. It was a tone that presaged
trouble for men of evil, the sort of trouble that The Shadow could provide. As bait for thieves, the six
sapphires had come up to The Shadow's expectations. The rest would lie in his hands.
Perhaps The Shadow's tone would have lacked the prophetic touch had he known the full story of the
Star of Delhi and the six blue gems that Raymond Walder was exhibiting as the carved components of
the famous sapphire.
That story could have given The Shadow an index to the startling and unexpected turn that crime was to
produce at seven o'clock; events that even The Shadow would not quite fathom when they came!
CHAPTER III. CRIME IN REVERSE
"AT seven o'clock, in front of Walder's."
It was the fourth time that Dwig Brencott had given those simple instructions from the telephone booth
near the cloakroom in the Club Cadiz, which was one of the night spots that Dwig frequented.
Just past the cloakroom was a stairway, and under its shelter The Shadow was listening to Dwig's
smooth-purred tone, hoping that he would specify further details; but Dwig didn't. Furthermore, The
Shadow had encountered another handicap.
From his listening post, he could hear Dwig's voice, but the clicks of the phone dial were not audible
enough to be translated into numbers, a favorite trick of The Shadow's. Hence, when Dwig left the phone
booth and went to the bar to get a drink, The Shadow had gained a rather frugal net result.
He knew only that Dwig had called four men, all obviously tools of crime, instructing them to be outside
Walder's at the time when the six sapphires were to be taken away. Perhaps those four would bring
others; in any event, the thing fitted with The Shadow's previous calculation that Dwig intended to trail the
truck that came for the sapphires, either to take a crack at its contents, or to learn the truck's destination.
At the bar, Dwig was chatting with cronies and building up something of an alibi. He was telling them
other places where he intended to go, even suggesting that some come along with him and make the
round of the hot-spots. They were all promising to meet Dwig later, the very point for which he had been
playing.
Seven o'clock was drawing close. By then, Dwig would be gone from the Club Cadiz, for the build-up
that he was giving indicated, to The Shadow, that the sleek man intended to be at Walder's, too.
But Dwig was making it very easy for himself to drop out of the night-club picture for the half-hour
between seven and seven-thirty, and yet have friends believe that he had been at one place or another all
during that period.
Gliding out through a little-used rear exit from the Club Cadiz, The Shadow paused near a darkened
corner and blinked a tiny flashlight. Its rays were green, and the flashes caused a parked coupe to come
in The Shadow's direction.
The man at the wheel was Harry Vincent, one of The Shadow's capable secret agents. Sliding in beside
him, The Shadow instructed Harry to drive over to the avenue and park near the corner beyond
Walder's.
The Shadow had a purpose in choosing that corner. He was certain that the truck would stop at the side
door of the jewelry store, on a one-way street, where traffic headed toward the avenue.
Since Dwig had ordered his men to be in front of Walder's, they wouldn't be in a position to attempt a
robbery until after the truck was under way. Then, they would logically come from the avenue and swing
in back of the truck, to follow it.
As for making an attack before the jewels left the store, that would be sheer folly. Dwig had looked over
the lay; certainly he knew how strongly Walder's was guarded.
Crooks wouldn't get past the front door, if they tried to rush the guards and reach the sapphire display
before anyone came for it. Besides, Dwig had specified seven o'clock, which wouldn't give him time to
organize such a foolhardy attempt.
SEVEN o'clock.
The hour had arrived. From his vantage point, The Shadow looked back along the avenue and saw a car
sliding into a parking space. Evidently, some of Dwig's men had come by car, while others were to join
them on foot.
Glancing down the side street The Shadow saw a small armored truck stopping at the delivery entrance.
Men in uniform, coming from the truck were meeting others from the store.
At the front door of Walder Co, guards were moving the last patrons out. The last of the lot was Margo
Lane, and a taxicab wheeled in to take her as a passenger. The driver of that cab was Moe Shrevnitz,
another of The Shadow's secret agents. Margo wasn't surprised to see Moe's cab arrive. It usually
showed up whenever Lamont Cranston delegated Margo to special missions.
About to enter the cab, Margo paused, as though she had forgotten something. She had a chance to look
back into the jewelry store. The place had cleared, and she saw Raymond Walder superintending the
removal of the burglarproof display case that contained the rare star sapphires.
With Walder were a few other jewelers, taking a last look at the much-prized gems. Though those
privileged visitors had not handled the sapphires, they were quite convinced that the six stones had been
cut from the famous Star of Delhi. To them, the word of Raymond Walder - that he had seen and
examined the great sapphire itself - was as good as the gold which formed the rings in which the six gems
were mounted.
Margo stalled until she saw the case go out through the side door. From his observation point, The
Shadow watched the rapid loading of the truck. Immediately, the armored vehicle moved forward and
kept straight across the avenue, along the side street. By then, Moe's cab was under way. It took the
corner and followed the truck.
Harry was sliding the coupe into gear. The Shadow's gloved hand restrained the start that the agent was
about to make.
Next in order was to be the crook-manned car, and after it passed, The Shadow would follow it.
Meanwhile, Moe would be dropping from the trail, for The Shadow had given him a red blink from the
little flashlight when the cab swung past the coupe.
With crooks on the truck's trail, as The Shadow expected them to be, Margo wouldn't be needed. That
was why The Shadow had ordered Moe to come with the cab. Moe, or Shrevvy, as they often called
him, would explain to Margo that The Shadow was taking over.
Like all The Shadow's plans, this one was well laid, but it was destined to go astray. Dwig's car was
starting and the Shadow gave Harry the word to go, but to let the other vehicle swing past him. Then,
abruptly, thugs made a stop directly in front of Walder's.
Before The Shadow could do more than reach for the door of the coupe, mobsters were out of their car
and across the sidewalk, dashing into the jewelry store. There were six of them, all masked, and their
leader was about the build of Dwig Brencott. The Shadow had time only to glimpse the masked crew
before they disappeared inside the store.
The whole thing was crazy. Dwig must certainly have seen the armored truck pull away; he surely knew
that the sapphires were inside it. This was the unexpected point that The Shadow had in no wise
anticipated. Dwig's thrust was an attack upon an empty nest, from which the wanted prizes had been
removed!
AT least, Dwig had accomplished one thing. Without knowing that The Shadow was on hand, he had
beaten the black-cloaked fighter to his goal - which happened to be Walder's store, not the armored
truck. Dwig had gained a margin of only a few dozen seconds, considering that he and his masked
companions were at the store itself, whereas The Shadow was up at the corner ahead. But the time was
enough for crooks to get in deadly work.
Guards were gone from the front door, for, with the truck's departure, their duty was ended. Walder held
the center of the floor, where he was shaking hands with the visiting jewelers. While there were still some
guards in the place, they had gone beyond the counters to change from uniforms to other clothes.
It was Raymond Walder who first saw the invasion and gave a frantic yell to his helpless friends. The
other jewelers went ducking for the counters, easy targets for the guns that masked men brandished, had
Dwig and his murderous pals wanted to shoot them down.
But they were choosing one victim only, Raymond Walder, and he was even easier than the rest. For
Walder, brave when confronted by the grueling test, was holding his ground, shouting for the guards to
return and aid him against the attacking tribe.
Six guns spoke almost as one. Walder took the bullets from that firing squad. Riddled by the close-range
shots, the drab jeweler was dead before he struck the floor. Inspired by that show of courage, guards
were springing across the counters, some still in uniform, others not, but all with guns that they had
hurriedly snatched.
Mobsters were ready for them too. The masked leader gave a snarl, that no one could have identified
摘要：

THESTAROFDELHIMaxwellGrantThispagecopyright©2001BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?CHAPTERI.THESECRETSIX?CHAPTERII.BAITFORCRIME?CHAPTERIII.CRIMEINREVERSE?CHAPTERIV.HALFANANSWER?CHAPTERV.CREEPSINTHEDARK?CHAPTERVI.THEWRONGFOEMEN?CHAPTERVII.PROOFOFCRIME?CHAPTERVIII.REIGNOFMURDER?CHAPTERIX.DEATHFI...

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