SHADOW.
A keen pair of eyes scanned the faces of a party of men, all of them
criminals of the worst class.
Those eyes belonged to Shadow.
On one man in the group his eyes rested long and earnestly, although
covertly.
"He's just about the build," Shadow mentally said. "And he tallies with
the description."
With what description?
We shall see in due course of time.
"Shall I dog him?" thought Shadow, and then his eyes sought the floor
and remained fastened there in a reflective way for some minutes.
The result of his reflections was apparent when, the man having left
the saloon, Shadow followed him.
"I have been disappointed a dozen times," Shadow told himself, and then
sighed. "If I am disappointed again it can make but little difference,
for in the end I shall take a fitting revenge for that great wrong."
And Woglom, river-pirate, murderer, burglar, anything so long as it
paid him well enough, was from that minute under the surveillance of as
keen a pair of eyes as were ever set in human head.
The villain was one of the gang connected with the old sugar-house, and
thither Shadow had tracked him.
The mysterious detective determined to secretly gain access to the
place, though that would have been a task to appall the heart of the
stoutest detective on the force.
But he accomplished it.
Having gained access to one of the shops in another part of the
building, he at once turned his attention to the vaults.
Once these had connected from one end of the building to the other.
Some of the arched communicating doorways had been closed up by wooden
barriers.
These Shadow found means to get the better of, and passing through,
would replace the boards he loosened, so that they bore no signs of
having been tampered with.
At last he gained access to the vault beneath the portion of the
building used as a "fence."
It was not a hard job now for him to get up-stairs.
He had only to wait his chance, and then quietly slide up the stairs
communicating with the store-room above.
Once this was performed without being observed, he found no difficulty
in concealing himself in the piles of old junk and goods of all
descriptions with which the place was filled.
There were times when the place was left without a single occupant.
These occasions were few, but Shadow did not fail to take advantage of
them, and by moving various articles a little to this side or that, he
constructed a little avenue or passage under the miscellaneous truck
and plunder.
On his hands and knees he used this passage, and he was in it when he
heard the writer of these lines speaking to the guard, and saying that
he was sent by Dick Stanton.
Hastily tearing a leaf from a blank-book, he had written the note,
as well as he was able in the darkness, and had thrust up the hand
containing it through one of the interstices in the big pile.
Anxiously he laid there, awaiting the result of that almost foolish
venturing of my head into the lion's jaws.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he heard the thud caused by
Growler's fall, followed by the deep-chested oaths of Cap, who, in
his rage, turned his revolver on the guard, and was within an ace of
pulling the trigger.
Cap took it for granted that the spy was a detective, and supposed that
the game was up; that the place would surely be in the hands of the
police in an hour or two.
"Lock that door, and keep it locked!" he savagely ordered Growler, and
then started on a run for the other side of the building, hoping to
catch Stanton.
Meantime, however, the latter had taken his departure, to be nabbed a
few minutes later.
Hastily Cap got his portable valuables together, and prepared for
flight at a moment's notice from the scouts sent out in all directions.
No alarm came in.
Hours passed, daylight broke, and still they had not been molested.
A message was privately sent to Stanton, asking him to ferret out the
true meaning of the strange visit, as well as who the visitor was.
Cap moved his money and valuables to a place of safety, and then sat
down, assuming an air of injured innocence to fool the police with in
case they came.
Meanwhile Shadow was busy.
Off in one corner was a sort of room made by piling up boxes and
rubbish. This Cap used as an office, and here he took those with whom
he wished to confer privately.
Having learned this, Shadow had determined to extend the passage right
up to the office, so that he could overhear what passed within.
Sometimes a natural crevice was made large enough for him to crawl
through by a little exertion of strength, and the thing could be done
without producing any noise whatever.
Like a mole beneath the surface he worked his way on toward the goal,
knowing full well that I would not put my knowledge into use, now that
I knew he was on the ground with some object in view.
Singular, was it not, that we should have so much confidence in each
other?
Still we had.
Little by little Cap's confidence began to return, and he was quite
himself again when a note came from Dick Stanton.
At least it was signed with Stanton's name.
"Cap, everything's O. K. I gave a _true blue_ a message for you a
couple of nights ago, about the same matter of which I spoke to you.
"He didn't try to deliver it until the following night, the same when
I was there. After getting inside he got scared and forced his way
out by knocking down Growler. Don't worry at all over the affair, for
I know what I am talking about. He's a good fellow, no coward, and
once he is given a show will do some good work."
"DICK STANTON."
The explanation was satisfactory to Cap, although he thought it a
little singular that the note should be shoved under the door, instead
of delivered personally.
The scouts were called in.
Work was resumed; in other words, Cap's gang again began pillaging on
the river and around the harbor.
And Cap had confidential talks with his men in the office.
As silently as the mole, which we have just likened Shadow to, he made
his way toward the office, until, at last, he drew so near as to be
able to distinguish any ordinary toned conversation.
Still closer he wished to go.
"I must get near enough to overhear a whisper," he told himself. "Out
of his own mouth must the monster I am after convict himself."
And closer he got.
And then his steady successes were offset by a disaster that caused
even his face to blanch.
The stuff he moved settled and closed up the passage behind him, hemmed
him into a little space of two feet by six and high enough for him to
kneel in, and here he must stay until released, for the stuff just
there was too heavy for him to even budge.
He must reveal himself or starve to death!