Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 085 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW WAITS

IN his present design, The Shadow was dependent upon one important factor: namely, the reaction gained by known crooks as a result of last night's failure. Amid the weave of circumstance that involved Andrew Blouchet, Fanchon Callier and others, there were two specific rogues whose plans must be gained. Those two were Ring Stortzel and Banjo Lobot.

Ring had taken Banjo's room at the Hotel Bontezan. The chief of a criminal faction had thus picked his headquarters. Similarly, The Shadow had replaced Harry Vincent. Only few walls intervened between the master sleuth and the big-shot whose henchmen The Shadow had routed.

Those walls were doubly welcome to The Shadow. They kept him out of Ring Stortzel's sight; but they did not prevent him from listening in to the big-shot's conferences.

Not long after The Shadow had taken over Room 624, there was a knock at the door of Room 618.

Ring Stortzel, seated within the room, was prompt to recognize the touch. He admitted Banjo Lobot.

Ring closed the door and locked it.

“Well?”

Ring's rasp was an unpleasant one; but Banjo did not seem troubled. The go-between had brought a good report.

“I called up the hide-out,” stated Banjo. “Got hold of one mug there. Didn't tell him who I was. He was expecting to hear from me, though.”

“That don't make sense,” growled Ring. “Have you gone screwy. Banjo?”

“Sure it makes sense,” retorted the go-between. “Needler told the guy to wait until he heard from someone. That's all. And the guys been waiting. His name is Frankie Larth. We'll be able to use him later.”

“Where's he staying? Over at the hide-out?”

“No. I told him to beat it. Over to Mobile. I'll be able to get him. Here's what he spilled me, Ring.

Blouchet hasn't got the dough.”

“Don't we know it? I've been reading the papers. They tell all about the raid. How masked men made Blouchet open up the safe.”

“Sure. But we needed word from Needler to be sure that Blouchet didn't have the cash somewhere else.

Well, Needler passed the word to this gorilla of his. Frankie gave it to me straight.”

RING STORTZEL grunted.

“We're back at the start again,” he fumed. “All we know is that Blouchet had some of that dough. But where did he get it? That's the thing to find out.”

“I talked to Dave Royan on the telephone,” stated Banjo. “He says we may have made the slip there at the Delta Club. The manager may have been mistaken about who passed in the jack.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, the birds at the Delta Club have dough. Plenty of it; and the gaming room isn't the only place where they spend it. Suppose some canary changed a big bill for the bartender, or their headwater in the restaurant.”

“Well?”

“And suppose it was Blouchet who had the big bill. Like a five-century note, for instance—”

“If Blouchet was walking around with five-hundred-dollar bills, it would mean that he had plenty.”

“Maybe not. It might have been all he had left from some other dough.”

“Well, go ahead, Banjo.

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