passage of another visitor - Wolf Daggert.
Whatever might be said after the third man had arrived, The Shadow would
also hear. The foe of crime, this phantom of the night had come to a spot where
crime was in the making.
His presence here a mystery, his knowledge veiled from those who plotted
crime, The Shadow had heard the plans of Graham Wellerton. Now he would listen
to the pleas of an unsuccessful crook, when Wolf Daggert faced the big shot.
The Shadow's presence was a proof that he had had a hand in thwarting
crime. That presence also signified that The Shadow would have much to say ere
crime again struck!
CHAPTER III
THE SHADOW'S PART
GRAHAM WELLERTON and King Furzman looked up as two men entered the room
from the archway. The first arrival was Gouger. The bodyguard kept on and
passed through the door at the other side of the room.
The second man stopped just within the curtains. He looked from King
Furzman to Graham Wellerton; then back from lieutenant to big shot. Without a
word, he tossed his hat and coat upon a table and took a chair.
Wolf Daggert was a crook whose nickname was well chosen. His face was
peaked and cunning. His teeth, which showed between sordid, roughened lips, had
a fanglike appearance that was bestial. The man's manner was one that made an
observer expect a snarl at any moment.
With half-clenched fists and ugly, sneering grin, Wolf Daggert turned his
pale face toward the other men as though he expected challenging words. His
gray eyes moved restlessly and his whole manner indicated tense nervousness.
King Furzman eyed Wolf Daggert coldly. Graham Wellerton gazed at the
newcomer with an air of indifference.
In this strained atmosphere, not one of the three men happened to look
toward the floor. Hence the trio failed to see the streak of blackness which
was again moving steadily inward from the curtains.
The dark splotch became motionless. Cold, steely eyes were peering from
the curtain. The archenemy of crime was on the watch. The eyes of The Shadow
were viewing the scene within King Furzman's reception room.
"Well," barked Wolf. "You goin' to say somethin'? Let's have it."
His remark was impersonal. Either Furzman or Graham could have answered
him. The big shot was the one who spoke.
"There's nothing much to say, Wolf," declared Furzman. "Things seem to
have gone sour - that's all. Maybe you didn't plan the job right."
"You been talkin', eh?" Wolf glowered at Graham. "Think because your job
went through you've got the edge on me?"
"Lay off that, Wolf!" growled Furzman. "You're talking to me, see? You
said you were coming up here to tip me off to what queered your game. Spring
it."
"Sure, I told you that," agreed Wolf. "Over the phone - after the job was
queered and my mob took the bump. I got plenty to tell you, too - and if this
chesty guy had hit what I hit, he'd be cryin' plenty."
