Part 4 (1/2)
”Very good, Senhor. That will be our last contact with Brazil. But remember, you must be careful thatSigler does not suspect.”
”That will be easy. Come here with your evidence. Bring your credentials. You can then tell me your story officially and present the evidence. We will go to the captain, with the evidence still in your possession.”
”It is agreed, Senhor.”
Edwin Berlett conducted Carlos Mendoza to the door of the cabin. He waited until the Brazilian had pa.s.sed along the corridor. Then Berlett, himself, stepped from the cabin. As he turned to close the door, the lawyer stared back into his room. He smiled as he noted the door to the wardrobe closet, which was visibly ajar.
STROLLING to the smoking salon, Berlett seated himself in a chair and lighted a cigar. Five minutes later, Sigler appeared. Berlett was writing memoranda upon a sheet of paper when the secretary found him.
”Take care of these letters,” ordered Berlett, pa.s.sing his penciled items to Sigler. ”Hurry them through and mail them ash.o.r.e, by air mail. You have an hour yet, Sigler.”
”Yes, sir.”
The secretary thrust the notes in his pocket. He left the smoking salon. Edwin Berlett settled back in his chair.
Glancing about, he saw no sign of Carlos Mendoza. Edwin Berlett chuckled. Strolling from the salon, he reached the gangplank and also went ash.o.r.e.
Carlos Mendoza had suggested a clever game as a follow-up of his note to Edwin Berlett. Warren Sigler had overheard the talk in full. There was a reason for Edwin Berlett's chuckle. The crafty lawyer could foresee a different outcome than the one called for in his conversation with Carlos Mendoza.
CHAPTER VI. OUTSIDE THE HARBOR.
DYING light of day guided the Southern Star on the final stage of its pa.s.sage through the Pernambuco reef. The s.h.i.+p had been delayed due to loading. The Brazilian pilot, however, had still gained sufficient daylight to reach the open sea.
Then night had arrived with the booming suddenness so common in the tropics. Edwin Berlett and other pa.s.sengers were standing near the stern of the Southern Star gazing toward the distant lights of Pernambuco.
A hand plucked at Berlett's sleeve. The lawyer turned to see the steadied face of Carlos Mendoza.
Berlett nodded. He spoke in a low tone.
”In fifteen minutes,” said the lawyer, ”in my stateroom. The door is open.”
Mendoza stalked away. Warren Sigler, peering from a group of pa.s.sengers, observed the Brazilian heading for a companionway. Sigler had overheard the words between the two men.
Edwin Berlett walked toward the steps that he customarily took to the smoking salon. Reaching another deck, he hurried along and neared the bow of the s.h.i.+p. There were no pa.s.sengers in sight. Berlett glanced over his shoulder. Confident that he was un.o.bserved, he descended by a companionway.
Picking a course which he had evidently chosen beforehand, Berlett reached the forward hold. Hestepped through a bulkhead. Straight in front, he saw starlight glittering through the side of the s.h.i.+p. A coal hatch was open. Berlett reached his goal.
Below, the pilot s.h.i.+p was ready to cast off. It was nestled against the side of the Southern Star, resting in a calm sea. Calls from above indicated that the steams.h.i.+p was about to drop the pilot.
Directly below, two men were standing beside a heap of sacks near the stern of the pilot s.h.i.+p. Burlap showed almost white, in a blackened stretch against the side of the Southern Star. The sacks were less than ten feet below the spot where Berlett stood.
The lawyer gave a soft hiss. He could see the white caps nodding on the heads of the men just below him. Edging out through the coal hatch, Berlett half dropped, half sprang. He thudded softly on the pile of sacks.
The two men, roustabouts from Pernambuco, were quick to act. Stepping together, they formed a s.h.i.+eld as Berlett dropped into a s.p.a.ce beside the engine room of the pilot s.h.i.+p. Heaving sacks aside, the men let the burlap pile upon the lawyer. Each stooped and mumbled low words in turn. In response, Berlett's right hand slipped money into eager fists. The roustabouts seated themselves beside the sacks.
The pilot was aboard his s.h.i.+p. The little craft moved clear of the Southern Star. The big engines of the liner grumbled; the twenty-thousand-ton s.h.i.+p moved forward, while the pilot's boat swerved for its return through the reef to Pernambuco.
The coal hatch had closed in the side of the Southern Star The last sign of Edwin Berlett's clever departure had been eliminated. Under the protection of the bribed Brazilians, the American lawyer was returning in safety to Pernambuco. With the harbor reached, his departure from the sacks that hid him would be a simple matter. Expectant roustabouts were counting on another bribe. Their lips were sealed.
The story of Berlett's escape would remain unknown.
ABOARD the Southern Star, Warren Sigler was watching the fading light of the little pilot s.h.i.+p. The secretary's face wore a thoughtful smile. He was planning a surprise trip to Berlett's cabin. The time was here. Leaving his place by the rail, Sigler strolled, whistling, toward the companionway.
Three men by the rail-new pa.s.sengers on at Pernambuco-stared as Sigler pa.s.sed. A few minutes later, they left the place where they had been standing and entered the s.h.i.+p.
All this while, Carlos Mendoza was seated in a small cabin, waiting. Satisfied that the time for his appointment was nearing, the Brazilian arose and picked up a small bag that lay beside him. He left his own cabin, walked along deserted pa.s.sages and reached Berlett's stateroom. He opened the door and entered. He laid his bag on Berlett's bed and unlocked the little grip.
Warren Sigler, watching from the end of a pa.s.sage, had seen Mendoza enter. He had seen Edwin Berlett leave the deck some time before. Evidently Sigler was not worrying about his new employer.
Mendoza- the man with the evidence-was the arrival for whom Sigler had posted himself.
Sigler sneaked forward. Softly, he opened the door of the stateroom. He entered. He looked about for Mendoza. All that he saw was the open bag upon the bed.
Advancing, Sigler glanced about. Still no sign of his man. Puzzled, Sigler stood still. Then curiosity gained the better of him. He pounced upon the bag, only to find it empty.
A creepy laugh came from the corner by the open door. Sigler whirled. He shuddered at the form which he saw before him. Instead of Mendoza, he was viewing a tall being clad entirely in black. Cloaked andwith broad-brimmed hat, this spectral figure was covering the astonished secretary with an automatic.
A crook by profession, the false secretary knew the ident.i.ty of the being who trapped him. He was faced by The Shadow. Dully, he realized that the role of Carlos Mendoza had been but a disguise for this supersleuth. Living in Rio de Janeiro, Warren Sigler had thought but little of The Shadow, the grim fighter whose prowess was so famous in New York.
To-night, he was learning that the arm of The Shadow reached far. Minion of a master crook, Warren Sigler was trapped aboard the Steams.h.i.+p Southern Star, less than an hour out of Pernambuco.
”Speak!” The Shadow's tone came in a shuddering hiss. ”Speak, murderer- or die-”
The challenge ended in a whispered laugh. It brought stark terror to Warren Sigler; with terror came the futile frenzy that only horror can produce.
With a wild cry, Sigler leaped forward toward The Shadow. He was pouncing for that looming automatic. The Shadow did not fire. His free arm, swinging like a plunger, sent Sigler sprawling by the stateroom door. The man's cry, however, had served as a signal.
There were bounding footsteps in the pa.s.sage. As The Shadow whirled out from the door, he was met by three men, two coming from one direction; one from the other.
Hired thugs from Pernambuco, Sigler had held them in readiness. The secretary had entered the stateroom to parley with Mendoza. With all pa.s.sengers on distant decks, enjoying the welcome cool of the night, a.s.sa.s.sination had seemed an easy task.
THE SHADOW, in his whirl to the pa.s.sage, met the two men first. His automatic thundered as these fighters raised revolvers to shoot him down. Two quick shots; the hired a.s.sa.s.sins sprawled wounded in the pa.s.sage.
The Shadow whirled, dropping as he did. The third a.s.sailant had swung to aim. The man fired; his bullet whistled through the tip of The Shadow's slouch hat.
The Shadow's laugh came resounding as his black-garbed shoulders dived forward. Tripping over the plunging form, the third Brazilian went headlong upon his fellows.
The Shadow had played a daring game, counting upon the inefficiency of the would-be slayers. He could not have battled thus with New York gangsters. The hired South Americans, however, were of inferior caliber in a close-range fight.
One man was p.r.o.ne on the pa.s.sage floor as The Shadow rose. The second, wounded, had struggled to his feet and was diving to the pa.s.sage that led to the deck. With him was the unwounded man whom The Shadow had spilled.
The two men fired wildly as they hustled for cover. As they headed for the deck, The Shadow swung in pursuit. Trapped by the rail, the startled South Americans turned to aim back into the side pa.s.sage as The Shadow came lunging upon them.
The Shadow had picked the unwounded man. Like a living avalanche he struck the thug before the man could fire. The automatic, swinging, dealt a glancing blow to the fellow's head. The South American sprawled to the deck as The Shadow whirled free.