"But we can bag him now," returned Cardona, in the same low tone. "With a pair of rubies on him."

"Tomorrow night he will name the crook behind the whole game. That will enable you to find the other rubies."

"I'll make him talk tonight. He'll have to, if he wants to save his hide.

Leave it to me, Mr. Mogridge."

Cardona's whisper was determined, so emphatic that it brought a whispered agreement from Mogridge. Leveling his revolver, Cardona nudged the bookcase with his shoulder, just as Marotte was bending forward to replace the rubies in their false-tooth containers.

Marotte heard the grind of burdened hinges. He dropped the rubies, sprangto his feet and whipped around, his right hand thrust toward his coat pocket.

Halting, the crook gave a sickly, leering grin that showed the gaps between his upper teeth.

Gaspard Marotte was staring straight into the muzzles of a pair of revolvers. Joe Cardona's gun was the closer; Mogridge's .32 was more distant, but as steadily aimed as Joe's.

Completely bluffed by Berkland's willingness to deal with him, the fourth crook had let himself be trapped. Joe Cardona, this time, had gained a capture without The Shadow's aid.

CHAPTER XI.

DOOM REPEATS.

MAROTTE'S glossy manner vanished when his eyes spied the steady guns. A ratlike snarl came from the crook's opened lips. His fingers clenched as he backed toward the corner of the desk. Turning, Marotte spied Berkland; viciously, he spat oaths at the oil magnate.

"Cut it, Marotte," snapped Cardona. He approached, frisked the crook's gun from its pocket. "You talked a lot tonight. Let's hear some more."

Marotte stared toward the opened door, saw that his path was blocked by Mogridge. Cardona was squarely in front of the crook; Marotte looked across the room, seeking another possible avenue of escape. All that he saw was the locked door that led to the library, its key straight upward.

"What if I did talk?" snarled Marotte. "I didn't incriminate myself."

"Maybe not by what you said," rejoined Cardona, pocketing the crook's gun, "but by what you did. Having those rubies on you is enough, Marotte."

The crook chewed his lips. Cardona kept up the pressure.

"You know what the charge will be," he reminded. "Murder! You were with that bunch at Pettigrew's. That makes you as badly off as the actual killer.

It will be the chair for you, Marotte!"

Marotte trembled. His ugly leer was gone. He moved one of his upstretched hands to wipe cold sweat from his wide forehead. His lips moved, as though ready to talk.

"One thing might save you," added Cardona. "If you and that pal you mentioned turn State's evidence, maybe there won't be a murder charge. Your only way out is to admit that you were in on the robbery, and tell us your pal's name. How about it, Marotte?"

"I don't like to squeal on a pal," pleaded Marotte, his voice rising to a quavering whine. "If I thought it would help him, though -"

"It will," a.s.sured Cardona. "You can count on that, Marotte."

"Then this isn't a squeal." Marotte put the statement vigorously. "I'm telling you his name to help him out. So he can help me out. That's why I'm telling you who he is. You've heard of him. He's Jake Doxol, the con man."

"That's a hot one," grunted Cardona. "Another smart guy, working out of his line. I thought Jake was in Florida."

"He was, until he heard of this proposition. He's not very far away now,"

a.s.serted Marotte. His voice had steadied, his lips had lost their quiver. "It won't take you long to find him. Not long at all. You'll see Jake very soon -"

AN ugly chuckle interrupted Marotte's words. It came from the open door.

Cardona turned his head, then stiffened. So did Mogridge. Berkland, behind thedesk, sank backward.

There was a moment's pause; after it, two revolvers thudded the floor.

Cardona and Mogridge raised their arms; Berkland shakily copied the move.

In the doorway stood a long-limbed man whose rounded face and bald head showed everything but friendliness. Lying in the crook of the arrival's arm was a submachine gun. The man's position indicated that he knew how to handle the weapon. Marotte, the fourth crook, had introduced the fifth.

The man in the doorway was Jake Doxol.

"Good work, Jake," chuckled Marotte, pulling a handkerchief from his hip pocket. He mopped his brow, then added: "I knew you'd come upstairs when I overstayed my time. But it was tough, keeping up the bluff."

"I heard you," gruffed Doxol. "You were talking louder than you needed. I didn't want to barge in in a big hurry. The more they got interested in what you were saying, the better."

"That was smart. Keep them covered, Jake, while I settle this proposition.

Don't worry about that other door. It's locked on this side."

Jake looked across the room, saw the key turned crosswise in the door that led to the library. He edged in from his own door, gesturing Cardona and Mogridge to the far corner. Marotte concentrated upon Berkland.

"The deal is still on," announced Marotte, "only it will cost you sixty grand, instead of forty. We'll take your check for it, Berkland. You'll make it out, right now. It's going to cause you some inconvenience, though, knowing who we are.

"We'll tie you up along with Cardona and stow the pair of you behind the bookcase. We'll take this brother-in-law of yours along with us. He may be useful tomorrow, if there's any questions when we go to cash your check.

"Don't worry about Mogridge, though. He'll come back. We'll ship him in to you. We'll have him bring a letter with him, telling you who the big-shot is, and giving the name of the stooge who still thinks the big-shot is a right guy.

You'll get the last two rubies as a bargain for your sixty grand."

There was a check book on the table. Berkland reached for it weakly.

Marotte watched him; then he turned to Doxol, starting a question as he swung about: "How about it, Jake? Does the deal suit -"

MAROTTE cut himself short, as he saw the doorway through which he and Doxol had entered. Sighting a figure in the hallway, Marotte found himself helpless, for he had not reclaimed his revolver from Cardona's pocket. All that Marotte could do was shout a warning to Doxol: "Look out, Jake!"

Doxol performed a side step. As he did, a frail man lunged wildly into the room. It was Ungler. The secretary was gripping the same .22 that he had carried on the night of the robbery. He was aiming for Doxol as he came, but the crook's side move was too quick for him.

Ungler stopped, turned to take new aim. He would have gained it before Doxol could swing the machine gun, but Marotte prevented it.

With a long leap, the smuggler pounced on Ungler; he dashed the man back toward the open door and made a grab for the small automatic. As he shoved the.22 upward, Marotte bellowed to Doxol: "Give it, Jake! To all of them! I'll handle this guy!"

By "all," Marotte meant Cardona, Mogridge and Berkland. Doxol swung about to get the first pair; his move was timely, for Cardona and Mogridge were already pouncing toward him. Doxol's finger was ready on the trigger; he was about to start the machine gun spraying while it was on the aim. Neither Cardona nor Mogridge could have stopped him; but there was another who could and did.

The closed door across the room was swinging open. Its key - first upright and later crosswise - might have told that it had been engaged by clippers on the other side. No one had detected the fact, however. No one had guessed that the door had been silently unlocked during the tense events within the study.

Even while the door was swinging inward, a big gun thundered. A gloved fist gripped that automatic. Keen eyes burned as a cloaked marksman gave perfect aim. The Shadow had arrived to deal with a new pair of a.s.sa.s.sins. He had chosen Doxol as his first target.

With two crooks on hand The Shadow could afford to dispose of one. A sure shot was necessary with Doxol. If merely wounded, the machine gunner might have loosed his fire. That was why The Shadow aimed straight for Doxol's heart. He found the mark with a single bullet.

As the echoes of the automatic sounded through the room, Jake Doxol pitched his machine gun sidewise and crumpled to the floor.

Marotte heard the shot, knew that it was not from Doxol's machine gun.

Marotte's hand had gripped the barrel of Ungler's pistol. The thug drove the b.u.t.t of the weapon hard against the secretary's head. As Ungler sagged, Marotte came around. He saw The Shadow aiming for him, while Cardona and Mogridge were busy s.n.a.t.c.hing up their revolvers.

For the instant, Marotte thought his game was up. He saw the purpose behind The Shadow's burning gaze. Those eyes spelled no mercy. If Marotte yielded to The Shadow, he would talk - and do it without coaxing.

Frantically, and hopelessly, Marotte looked for an opportunity to elude The Shadow. His chance came by sheer luck.

TOBIAS BERKLAND was out from behind the desk. Seeking to do his share in battle, the oil magnate was stooping to pick up Doxol's machine gun. With a dive, Marotte hit the floor; shielded by Berkland's body, he tried to s.n.a.t.c.h the machine gun from the other's weaker clutch.

Marotte needed seconds only to gain the needed weapon. No one could reach him with a bullet, for Berkland blocked the path. Again, The Shadow acted; this time, in different fashion.

Dropping his automatic, he drove across the room with the speed of a black arrow. His gloved hands clamped Berkland's shoulders; his arms wrested the oil magnate clear of Marotte's grip. As Berkland rolled to the wall, The Shadow seized the machine gun and flung it beyond the desk.

Grappling, The Shadow had Marotte helpless.

Either Joe or Mogridge could have fired; but they preferred to await the finish of The Shadow's conflict. Cardona voiced the reason to Mogridge.

"Hold it," ordered Joe. "We'll have Marotte inside a minute. He's got more to tell us -"

A shot rang out from another quarter.

A new factor had entered. Lawrence Woolford had arrived suddenly from the door of the library pa.s.sage. Seeing the fray across the room, he had s.n.a.t.c.hed up a handy gun - The Shadow's automatic. Woolford, steady in aim, blazed hisshot for Marotte.

The bullet staggered the crook. Slowly, Marotte slumped. He would have fallen but for the grip of the Shadow's hands, which had gained a hold upon the rogue's throat. Holding Marotte upright, The Shadow drew him toward the desk.

Woolford, standing with the smoking automatic in his hand, saw The Shadow relax his pressure on Marotte's neck.

"I'm through," croaked the jewel thief, his eyes closing before The Shadow's gaze. "I'm cashing in - but I'm talking - telling what I know - about the big-shot!"

Cardona and Mogridge strained forward; they saw Marotte's lips move, heard him mumble: "He's a double-crosser. Get him while you've got the chance. His name is -".

Marotte's effort ended in a spasm. A cough racked his frame. Blood trickled from the crook's lips as Marotte slumped forward, dead.

THE SHADOW moved away; his figure seemed to vanish as he stooped beyond the desk. Marotte's body slipped from the front of the desk where The Shadow had propped it. As the corpse thudded the floor, The Shadow came upward into view. Resting on his arm was the machine gun.

Burning eyes carried a command. The Shadow slowly swung the machine gun to cover everyone in the room. Revolvers dropped from the hands of those who held them.

The Shadow paused; then he swung the machine gun from him and let it strike beside the wall. Stooping as he performed the action, he reclaimed his automatic in the same move. Leveling the weapon, wagging it slowly, he stepped into the library pa.s.sage and closed the door behind him.

At the last instant, Joe Cardona caught a flash from The Shadow's eyes; he saw a motion of the slouch hat that he took for a nod. In a twinkling, Cardona understood. Before the door had closed, Cardona reached forward and grabbed up his revolver.

"Sit down, all of you," ordered Joe. "I guess we're jittery, the lot of us. I'll take charge of things. I'm used to this sort of business."

Cardona indicated the bodies of Marotte and Doxol as he spoke. The other men nodded, as though relieved by Cardona's offer to take charge. Mogridge shoved a chair to Ungler, who looked groggy; then took one of his own.

Woolford settled shakily into a chair by the door. Berkland went to the chair behind his desk, plucked up the restored rubies and stared solemnly at the fatal Drops of Blood.

Kicking loose guns across the floor, Cardona took his stand in the corner where the machine gun lay. His shoulder was toward the door by which The Shadow had departed. Cardona felt sure that The Shadow had lingered, waiting for Joe to take control.

For Joe Cardona had realized why The Shadow had made so guarded a departure. The Shadow's nod had sent Cardona's thoughts reverting to a former theory, one which the ace had at last accepted as a fact.

One of the living men who occupied this very room was the master murderer whose name had frozen upon the lips of Gaspard Marotte. That killer had been ready to go berserk the instant that his ident.i.ty was known. Though Marotte had died, the murderer was still a menace; like any other crook, he would havehazarded all to slay The Shadow.

Knowing it, The Shadow had threatened all. A clever ruse; for it served a double purpose. It held the murderer helpless while The Shadow retired, and it covered the fact that The Shadow knew the truth. Perhaps the murderer believed that The Shadow suspected someone; but if The Shadow knew the actual murderer, the man had not guessed it.

The Shadow had left the field to Joe Cardona. He was giving the law another chance to gain the goods it wanted. The law was closer to its goal.

Five crooks were dead, their rubies claimed. Only two remained alive, and one was the master criminal.

Rather than let the supercrook betray himself tonight, The Shadow had restored events to normal sequence. The ways and devices of the master murderer were many. The Shadow wanted all to be uncovered.

The Shadow had again blazed the trail, and left it in the hands of the law.

CHAPTER XII.

EYES IN THE DARK.

FROM his corner, Cardona cast a commending gaze upon the men who sat before him. It was his part to congratulate all who had served in battle against Marotte and Doxol; after that, Joe intended to bring up some questions.

Those details could best be handled bluntly. Cardona addressed Berkland for a starter.

"Lucky you weren't killed, Mr. Berkland," observed Joe. "You made a bad move, when you jumped for that machine gun. I thought you intended to drill Marotte with it."

Berkland tilted his head and looked toward the machine gun. His smile broadened.

"I could never have handled the weapon," he remarked. "I am quite unfamiliar with machine guns. No - I merely wanted to put it out of action."

Cardona turned to Mogridge. The mustached man was seated with folded arms.

Cardona asked him an unnecessary question: "Why didn't you take a shot at Marotte? You could have clipped him without killing him."