Crooks Go Straight by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9781932806748
Google: PHFGGQAACAAJ
Amazon: B008SM1B0A
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1935-03-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIV. WEDNESDAY NIGHT

TWENTY-FOUR hours had passed since The Shadow's visit to Delhugh's home. Manhattan's East Side lay beneath the blanket of night. A strolling man, erect of shoulder and steady in gait, went past a patrolman who was pacing near the steps of an elevated station.

The stroller kept on, unchallenged. A disdainful snort came from his lips. This fellow had no fear of cops. To Lucky Ortz, a policeman was a dumb flatfoot. For this strolling man was Lucky himself, en route to Beak Latzo's new hide-out.

On a secluded street, Lucky took a darkened doorway to the left of a shoemaker's shop. He unlocked the door, entered and went upstairs. He rapped five times at a door that stood in darkness.

The barrier opened. Lucky entered to greet Beak Latzo.

"Anything new from Dangler?" came Beak's query.

"Sure," chuckled Lucky. "This. Another note from Steve."

Beak ripped open the envelope. He read Steve's scrawl; then applied a match to note and envelope and dropped them, flaming, in a metal wastebasket.

"What's doing?" quizzed Lucky.

"Nothing yet," replied Beak. "Steve says to lay low and wait."

"He said that in his last note," reminded Lucky. "The one where he told us to stick the swag in that package box in the subway, with the key hid on top where he could get it."

"He got the swag," said Beak. "He mentioned that in the note I just burned. Says to do the same with any more we get. Unless we're in a jam; then we're to wait for new word."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Yeah." Beak nodded emphatically. "He says something I wanted to hear him say. Something I was worried about. He says he's wise that The Shadow got into the picture."

"Well, he ought to be wise. All that hullabaloo around your old hide-out got into the newspapers. The bulls found the joint."

"With nothing in it."

"Thanks to Goofy. That was smart of him: dragging out your stuff, taking it to his own place. And I was wise to get it away from there. They found Goofy's body this afternoon."

"The wise part was burning those letters. That was my idea, Lucky."

"You should have burned 'em in the first place."

Beak ignored his lieutenant's remark. He began to rub his rough chin. At last he spoke.

"We need new gorillas, Lucky," stated Beak. "There's a new job coming and it'll be quick. If I know Steve, he won't let grass grow."

"On account of this mug Murson, that's still missing?"

"Yeah. That's one reason. The other's that Steve is a live wire. He's in soft and he'll use his chances. Listen, now. I've managed to lay low. Nobody knows that you're with me."

"Nobody except a couple of the gorillas. And they're in their own hide-out."

"Well, get going and pick up a new mob. Steve's going to want it."

"Said that, too, did he?"

"No. But he figures we've got the mob anyway. He don't know how many gorillas we lost; I've got an idea that Steve'll pick up some dope to-night. Savvy?"

Lucky nodded.

"Well?" Beak scowled. "What're you waiting around for? I said start to build a mob!"

"O.

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