He breathed deeply, and as he did so a sudden feeling of lightness and of expansion came upon him. In the act of wondering stupidly what this substance was that the Chinaman had forced upon him, his mind went blank.
Ah Wing continued for a moment to hold his hand over the mouth and nostrils of his victim. Then he carried Knight across the room and laid him on a divan. Turning deliberately, he pressed an electric button.
Somewhere in the brooding silence of the building, beyond this room, a deep throated bell rang-clamorously.
CHAPTER THREE
THE EVENING WOLVES
HIGH in an apartment house, overlooking a street and something of the city, Monte Jerome, leader of the Evening Wolves, sat at his ease, a cigarette in the corner of his thin, merciless mouth, a telephone within reach.
From the back rooms of the apartment came the sound of heavy breathing, intermingled with an energetic and unmusical snore. Louie Martin, gem expert for the gang, and "Doc," their society specialist, were sleeping.
Monte listened critically to the heavy breathing. He was an expert in such matters, and his seasoned judgment told him that neither of his comrades was faking sleep.
With a nod of satisfaction, he stood up and walked soundlessly into the corridor connecting the rooms, stopping first in that occupied by "Doc," and then in the back room where Louie Martin was sleeping. In each room he paused long enough to make a thorough search of the clothing of the sleeping robber.
Monte went expeditiously through all the pockets, and even examined the linings. Just a little exhibition of the honor that obtains among thieves: Monte Jerome knew that his leadership depended on his ability to command his companions' unwilling respect, and he was taking no chances,
"I got a hunch Doc is thinking of ditching the gang, and going it for himself," Monte murmured as he returned toward the front room. "If he thinks—"
The 'phone bell rang suddenly, and the man on duty crossed to the instrument,
"Yes?" he said. . . . "Oh, hello, Billy. . . . What's that—Hell's bells! Got away! Get busy and find him—"
The voice of the Strangler came to him over the wire.
"Keep your shirt on, Chief!" it commanded. "You better come down here and see for yourself what we was up against!"
Two minutes later Monte was shaking Louie Martin awake.
"Come to life!" Monte grated. "The Count has made his getaway! You get into your clothes and tend 'phone! This is one hell of a mess!"
Martin climbed sluggishly and unwillingly out of bed.
"You've been running things," he snarled. "If you've got 'em in a mess, it's no one's fault but your own!"
AT A CORNER on the outskirts of Chinatown, Monte alighted from his taxi. This was a special machine, owned and operated by a crook who dealt indiscriminately in transportation, dope and bootleg whisky.
Monte commanded this worthy citizen to await his return, and plunged into a labyrinth of narrow streets and alleys.
A shrill whistle sounded presently, and he saw the Strangler beckoning him from a doorway. Crossing over, Monte followed his henchman into an alley, down a flight of narrow stairs, and into an unlighted basement. Here they were joined by the "Kid," who carried an electric torch.
"Come on, Chief," the "Kid" commanded. "We'll show you first what we was up against—watch your step! If you stub your toe you'll land in hell!"
They turned: and went down another stairway, narrower and steeper than the first. At the bottom their way was barred by a heavy door, studded with great iron bolts. In one place the wood had been battered away, disclosing the gleaming surface of a steel panel.
"We followed the Count here, and thought we had him cornered," the "Kid" drawled, rolling his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other and regarding Monte through lazy, sardonic eyes. "When we saw we couldn't get through this way, we went up to the floor above and come at him through the ceiling. Come along—we'll show you!"
They went back up one flight of stairs and entered a room which evidently had long been unused: Its walls were crumbling, and in the middle a great hole had been torn in the floor. The Strangler, who was leading the way, crossed over to this opening and unhesitatingly disappeared through it. Next moment a yellow light filtered up through the opening.
"Down you go, Chief," commanded the "Kid." "This was the door we made!"
Monte made his way down through the opening, landing on the upper of two chairs which had been piled precariously together to assist in the descent. He was followed by the "Kid," and the three crooks stood examining the room in which Ah Wing and Colonel Knight had held their conference.
Monte spoke with a snarl.
"All right, you two!" he cried, "Here is where he was! Where is he now? Come across with your alibi!"
His two companions exchanged significant glances and the "Kid" took a slouching step closer to Monte.
"Look here, Chief," said he, "it ain't gonna be healthy for you to talk that way to me! I'm not spielin' no alibi. What I'm givin' you is straight goods, and you better get that twist out of your mush and act like a gentleman!"
He paused; and his two crumpled ears, which spoke of vicissitudes in the prize ring, grew red as a rooster's comb. His glassy gray eyes glared unblinkingly at Monte.
The latter was not afraid of either of these men, or of both of them together. Monte had the unflinching courage of the perfect animal. But he had no notion of breaking up a gang which might prove useful to him.
"All right, boys," he agreed, more pacifically, although his dark eyes continued to glow like coals. "If you can afford to take it easy, you got nothing on me! Tell me what happened."
"That's more like it," the "Kid" growled. "Now you're talking like a gentleman, Chief! Well, we follows the Count here, and thinks we has him holed up. We can't bust down that door—this is an old Chink gambling hell, and everything is stacked against a fellow that wants to get in. But we comes down through the roof—"
Suddenly the "Kid" paused. From somewhere behind there had come a sound as of the opening of a door. The eyes of his two companions followed his and together they stood, rigid and alert,
Slowly the back wall of the room opened out toward them. Unconsciously, the crooks shrank closer together. Their faces were drawn, their figures rigid.
The panel swung fully open, and a figure appeared in it. It was the form of a tall man, clad in black silk.
The three crooks stood staring at him silently. So unexpected had been his appearance that it had affected them with a sort of paralysis. Their mouths gaped open and their eyes bulged.
Serenely, the intruder stood looking down upon them; and then, with a courteous wave of his hand, he spoke.
"Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen!" said he. "My little affairs can wait—I will return later!"
