The Shadow moved about the living room. He examined doorways, windows. He came to a far wall that was hung with a huge Oriental tapestry, which was green in background, adorned with silver dragons. Lifting the mammoth cloth, The Shadow examined the wall behind it. He found the wall solid.
Dropping the tapestry in place, The Shadow stepped out into an anteroom and noted the doors of elevators. Returning he spoke to Rowden; this time, his voice was a whispered tone:
“Summon Peju. Let him show me the rest of the apartment.”
Major Rowden clapped his hands. Peju appeared; the major ordered the Siamese to conduct The Shadow through the penthouse. Peju led the way. The Shadow followed and examined every room as carefully as he had the living room. Returning to the curtained center hall, The Shadow pointed toward the living room. Peju bowed obediently, and went in to join Major Rowden.
“Where is our guest?” queried the major, looking up from his teakwood chair. “Does he wish to see me, Peju?”
“He is in the hallway, sir.”
“I shall join him there.”
Reaching the curtains, Rowden parted them. He stared at vacancy; then looked upward. The trapdoor was settling into place. Rowden could hear the muffled scrape of tightening bolts. The Shadow’s present mission was ended. Departing; he had closed the trapdoor as he found it.
ROWDEN’S stare was tribute to The Shadow’s agility. The major was amazed when he realized how skillfully The Shadow must have regained the height of the trapdoor. Deep-set panels in the hallway wall offered the explanation. The Shadow had used them as a foothold. Even with that aid; the feat had been remarkable.
Major Rowden would have had new cause for admiration, had he viewed the roof of the penthouse. There, flat against the surface, The Shadow was moving steadily for the edge, guarding against the observation of any distant lookouts. This time, he had chosen the rear of the penthouse. It offered darkness like the side.
The Shadow’s purpose was to examine the broad space that formed the roof of the hotel – an area which surrounded the penthouse like a plaza. Dropping from the penthouse, he landed on the hotel roof. Moving like a phantom shape, The Shadow found a flat door that led down into the hotel. Testing it, he discovered that it was bolted from the inner side.
The Shadow turned, to head back for the side on which his own room was located. He was ready for the descent to his room on the fourteenth floor. To cover his course, he circled toward the water tower, to merge with its long shadow that stretched across the roof and past the penthouse. For one brief stretch, The Shadow was visible in the city’s glow. It was that fact that made him pause as he reached the covering darkness below the water tower.
Instinctively, The Shadow looked toward the one place that offered nearest danger; namely, the roof of the warehouse across the narrow street. The Shadow was just below the level of the concrete rail that adorned the top of the warehouse.
The Shadow’s instinctive precaution was all that saved his life. A grotesque figure had risen above the concrete rail. As The Shadow saw it, he noted a spidery arm driving downward to hurl some object with terrific speed.
Instantly, The Shadow whirled about, to gain protection as well as cover. He was beside a post of the water tower. His twist brought him just beyond that thickset pillar.
A whirling blade drove point foremost into the wooden post. The air whistled in echo; the knife quivered, buried almost to the hilt. The spider-armed creature on the warehouse roof plopped below the solid concrete rail before The Shadow could draw an automatic.
The would-be assassin was Ku-Nuan. The Shadow had foiled the Mongol killer’s thrust. At forty feet, Ku-Nuan could find a target with a knife as accurately as a sharpshooter with a gun. All that the blade lacked was a bullet’s speed. In a split-second, The Shadow had been able to choose the post as refuge before the straight-aimed blade arrived.
Ku-Nuan had made his thrust; he had taken to flight, unready to face The Shadow’s guns. The Mongol would spread the alarm; there was time, however, for The Shadow to make his departure. He wanted no forced battle with thugs tonight. Combat would not fit with his coming plans.
REACHING the side edge of the roof, The Shadow swung over the cornice. Swaying back and forth, he brought his feet in to the wall and gained a toehold above a window. The cornice offered inner projections beneath it. Gripping them, The Shadow worked his way down to the twentieth story ledge. Sidling along, he found an unlocked window.
Out through a corridor, down a stairway, The Shadow gained the fourteenth floor with speed. Whisking off his cloak and hat, he spread the garments over his arm. He did not return to his room; the empty suitcase that he had left there was of no use. His cloak and hat masked to look like ordinary garments, The Shadow rang for an elevator.
Riding down to the lobby, The Shadow strolled from the hotel. There was no sign of commotion; no excitement on the street. The Shadow had departed, almost unnoticed, before Ku-Nuan had gained opportunity to get word to Malfort. Stepping aboard a taxicab, The Shadow rode from the district that was infested by the master crook’s thugs.
The Shadow stopped at a telegraph office. There, he sent a wire to Calhoun Lamport in Chicago, signing the name of Major Rowden. That done, The Shadow boarded another taxi that had a sleepy driver slouched behind the wheel. In quiet tones, he ordered the man to take him to the Cobalt Club.
As the cab wheeled along, The Shadow dug finger tips deep into his disguised face. Puttylike make-up came away. The Shadow’s visage took on a more hawkish aspect. Special touches were needed. The Shadow applied them in the darkness; for his fingers were accustomed to the task.
When the cab reached the Cobalt Club, The Shadow stepped forth and nodded to the doorman. The fellow bowed and said:
“Good evening, Mr. Cranston.”
A slight smile fixed itself upon The Shadow’s newly disguised lips. His next move was to wait until he received Major Rowden’s call.
CHAPTER IX – THE COUNTERPLOT
THOUGH Ku-Nuan’s speeding knife had missed The Shadow, that thrust from the dark foreboded other trouble. It proved that Ku-Nuan had learned a fact which The Shadow had sought to conceal; namely; that The Shadow had attempted contact with Major Rowden.
Ku-Nuan had not been sure of The Shadow’s identity at the Royal Arms; but it was certain that, this time, the Mongol would carry positive word to Malfort. Ku-Nuan had recognized that the cloaked prowler on the roof of the Maribar Hotel must be The Shadow. That fact would reach Kenneth Malfort.
Nevertheless, The Shadow had proceeded with his plans. He had sent the wire to Calhoun Lamport. Shortly after eleven o’clock, The Shadow – as Lamont Cranston – received a telephone call at the Cobalt Club. Across the wire, he conversed with Major Rowden, using a quiet, even-toned voice that the Englishman did not recognize. As Cranston, The Shadow heard Rowden’s offer of Chinese gems. He promised to consider a purchase. That done, The Shadow promptly left the Cobalt Club.
The aftermath to these episodes occurred at Malfort’s not long after midnight. Ensconced in his sumptuous living room, the master plotter held conference with a trio of others: Ku-Nuan, Spark Ganza, and the moon-faced secretary, Wardlock.
“Take notes of these reports, Wardlock,” purred Malfort. “Ku-Nuan observed The Shadow near Rowden’s penthouse. Barthow reports from the Maribar that a guest named Henry Arnaud has left. Barthow also reports a telephone conversation between Rowden and a man named Cranston.”