Doubled between two cars he was repeating his original trip, hoping that the
tunnel crew wouldn't spot him. Having slipped past the factory watchmen by this
ruse, Chet had every reason to suppose that it would work again.
Every reason except the most important: The Shadow.
Even yet, Chet didn't realize that the cloaked fighter had paved the way to
his earlier escape. And Chet's present excursion into the jaws of trouble was
without benefit of the unique assistance that The Shadow alone could provide.
Yet the hand of The Shadow could still be felt. It was behind a thing that
Chet thought was luck.
As the freight cars stopped within the dimly lit tunnel, men came along
beside them. Still, Chet found time to drop from his perch and crouch on the
other side of the cars, close to the tunnel wall. To the past belonged the
reason why Chet wasn't discovered.
Crooks hadn't the least idea that a stowaway could have come into the
tunnel, because their own accomplices had ridden the way freight in order to
dispose of such unwanted passengers. In wiping out that entire crew, The Shadow
had established negative evidence to prove that all was well.
Absence of torpedo men indicated that they had nothing to report. Crooks
took it that their pals had dropped from the way freight just short of the
junction.
CROOKED JUNCTION!
The name drove home to Chet Conroy. It was appropriate in more ways than
one. Definitely suited to the work that was going on, for Chet was viewing
crooked business on a scale that appalled him. A sneak to the end car of the
stolen line showed him a most amazing sight.
There were two tracks in this tunnel and on the other stood a string of
freight cars that duplicated the stolen batch. It wasn't a case of haphazard
replacement; the cars were the twins of those that had come from the Pyrolac
factory.
They were of the same color, bore the same names, even the numbers and
distinctive markings of the originals. Their doors were bolted, sealed and
stamped in the same identical fashion! A brawny man with beakish nose and lips
that wore a habitual leer, was studying the two strings of cars. Other men, more
thuggish in appearance, were coming to this husky supervisor and handing him
photographs that he scanned in sharp-eyed fashion.
"A good job," spoke the beak-faced individual. "Give those seals another
check, though, while they're going out."
A voice spoke from back between the lines of cars:
"Ready, Dorgan?"
The brawny man swung his arm in answer. The Diesel shifter, uncoupled from
the stolen cars, swung over on a switch and jarred the duplicate line, where the
men had scrambled to check the bolts and seals. Evidently those matched the work
of Marquette's loading crew, for Dorgan received a prompt O.K. from every car.
Then the line of duplicates were shunting out from the tunnel. They swung
another switch just within the mouth, which put them on the siding where the way
freight had left its original load. Staring ahead, Chet looked vainly for the
lights of the main-line locomotive, only to realize that it could hardly have
begun its mile trip back to the branch sidings.
