Part 15 (1/2)

”Grinning, eh?” gibed the big shot. ”Well, it won't be so funny - that mug of yours - when they find you stretched out on a pile of tin cans in some Long Island dump.”

”So that's where this place is located,” parried Cliff. ”I was wondering about that, Wolf. Thanks for the information. I'll know which way to head when I start back to town.”

”Smart guy, eh?”

Cliff retained his grin. He knew that Wolf wanted to make him talk. The longer that Cliff could stall, the better. His best policy would be to side step all mention of The Shadow. Cliff, despite his predicament, had confidence in the infallibility of his mysterious chief. The Shadow had saved him from death in the past; there still might be hope for the present.

Wolf fumed oaths. He saw that he was getting nowhere. Cliff was ready to face death. He was different from the yellow welchers whom Wolf had cowed in the past. This fellow - the big shot realized it - was no ordinary gorilla. Tough on the surface, cowardly at heart: such was Wolf's a.n.a.lysis of the average mobsman. Cliff was not of that brand.

”If you talk,” snarled the big shot, with a scowl, ”there may be an out for you yet. Savvy? Spill the dope and I'll give you a break. If you don't, I'll have Spud and his crew use you for target practice -”

Wolf broke off suddenly. The outer door had opened. The big shot turned; so did Cliff. Wolf recognized the man who had arrived, but Cliff did not. Tall and dignified, the newcomer wore a suave smile on his lips. It was an expression, however, that Cliff did not like; for the smile was twisted. ”h.e.l.lo, Doc,” greeted Wolf, shortly. ”This is the guy.”

THE newcomer nodded. He closed the door partly, but left it slightly ajar. He had heard Wolf's final speech to Cliff. He motioned the big shot to one side; then took upon himself the task of quizzing The Shadow's agent.

”Your name is Marsland?” quizzed the tall arrival, studying Cliff with a shrewd, steely gaze. ”Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seton Lagwood. Doctor Seton Lagwood.”

Cliff stared in astonishment. Lagwood smiled in dry fas.h.i.+on.

”You are my guest,” purred Lagwood, smoothly. ”You have been confined in the cellar of my sanitarium, which is located on Long Island Sound. This portion of the establishment is kept well covered. The actual sanitarium is upstairs.”

”A blind!” blurted Cliff.

”Precisely,” agreed Lagwood. ”This gentleman” - he indicated the whitecoated fellow - ”is Mr. Carson. I should say Doctor Carson, for he bore that t.i.tle until he was disbarred for unethical practice. It was then that he took his place as resident physician in my underground hospital.”

Cliff stared. Doctor Lagwood continued to smile. He knew that this open form of discussion would produce more results than a tirade of threats. Wolf looked on, half puzzled, half lost in admiration of Lagwood's suavity.

”I have played a game,” resumed the unmasked physician. ”So have you” - Lagwood paused to eye Cliff with a glittering gaze - ”and in order to be fair as well as impartial, I shall sketch my activities for a beginning.

”I have known Wolf Barlan ever since his racketeering days. This underground hospital was used for treatment of convalescent gangsters. Then that game ended. I resumed my ethical practice; but I still maintained this hidden establishment.”

”I gained a reputation for the treatment of paralytics and victims of trance conditions. Because of that, I was approached by a chemist named Troxton Valdan. He had devised a gas that induced that strange condition which has been termed the death sleep.

”Valdan and I met secretly. He brought me guinea pigs that he had ga.s.sed. He wanted my opinion of the efficacy of the gas before he took it to the War Department at Was.h.i.+ngton. Valdan was indiscreet. He mentioned that he had a supply of gas bombs in his laboratory and that file one hundred and eleven contained two formulas: one for the gas, the other for the neutralizer.”

The physician paused. He saw that Cliff was drinking in these revelations. This pleased Lagwood. He resumed.

”I contacted with Wolf Barlan,” declared Lagwood. ”Valdan was to meet me in Providence. While the chemist was away, Wolf operated through Spud Claxter. Henchmen stole the gas and the formulas. The bombs went to the hideout. The formulas came to me from Wolf. The gas was tested on Seth Tanning and the persons in his apartment. It proved its merits. Tanning's place was chosen because of its proximity to the Talleyrand Hospital.

”When Valdan returned, he was murdered by one of Spud's minions. Guinea pigs in the laboratory nearly gave the police a clue to the gas. I diverted their suspicions. Meanwhile, I had a pharmacist make up the neutralizer, supposedly for a vapor treatment. Spud sent a man to steal it. ”Then” - Lagwood paused and resumed in a cold tone - ”then came crime. With it, The Shadow. Your friend, Luke Gonrey, was wounded, along with another mobsman. Spud reported it to Wolf, who called me in turn. I said to bring the men here and let Carson take care of them. When you and four others were found paralyzed in the hideout, this was the logical place to bring you. But” - again Lagwood paused - ”you made the mistake of recovering too soon. That fact, coupled with your dopey condition, proved that you had not been ga.s.sed. Carson called me at the hospital to inform me of his discovery.”

LAGWOOD became silent. Chaotic thoughts were pa.s.sing through Cliff's brain. He saw the whole game. Lagwood had devised it and had left the work to Wolf. The big shot had hired Spud. Wolf also had other workers, unknown to Spud. They were men who spotted opportunity for crime. An inside man at Currian's; an inside man at Galder's. Yet Wolf, who managed crime, was but a tool for the man higher up. Doctor Seton Lagwood!

The physician had both formulas. More gas could be manufactured when needed. Lagwood had been crafty in the matter of the neutralizer. He had ordered it made by a pharmacist, as an experimental prescription. The green liquid had been stolen by Skeet, who knew nothing of Lagwood's connection with crime. Subtlety had been Lagwood's watchword!

”Tonight,” remarked Lagwood, seeing that the time had come for further speech, ”one of the death sleep victims died because he knew too much. I refer to a man who called himself Huring, who worked inside at Galder's.

”You, too, shall die if you prove dangerous. But not by the simple method that my friend Wolf has suggested. Suppose Marsland, that you should experience the death sleep. Two days of oblivion; then recovery. Just long enough to make you feel that life is good - that recovery. For promptly upon it, you would receive the death sleep once again.

”Think of it! Life worse than death! Up from beneath the surface long enough to gain respite; then submerged again. So on, for weeks, for months, for years. What would you do? I shall tell you. After a few periods of that sort, you would talk. You would tell your story as I have told mine. You would frankly give us full word concerning The Shadow.

”Why not confess and save yourself that dread existence? Do you wish to become a dead man who lives? Hardly. You have your opportunity to avoid the fate that I have outlined. You have served The Shadow. We can use you in our service. Take your choice: life or the death sleep.”

Lagwood's tone had become almost hypnotic. Cliff was staring into the physician's cold eyes. He found himself yielding to the persuasive, purring words. It required an effort to break that spell.

”No!” challenged Cliff.