Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 204 by Maxwel l Grant

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

CHAPTER XI

THE THIRD FACE

GREASE RICKEL was in an impatient mood. The living room wasn't large enough to hold him. Pacing back and forth, he slashed aside the curtain of the wide doorway that led into a dinette. He kept on pacing through to the kitchen.

Looking at Clip Zelber, Banker Dreeb gave a shrug. They could hear Grease yank open the door of the electric icebox; they heard the rattle of ice cubes, the gurgle of liquid from a bottle. Grease was fixing himself another gin buck,

the sixth that he had sampled in the last hour.

"Don't blame the guy," said Banker. "Why should he keep sober? There's not

much chance that Five-face will be needing us."

"I don't think Five-face has lammed," returned Clip. "He's got a schedule,

like he told us."

"Like he told us, yeah," repeated Banker, with a snort. "But that may have

been the old baloney, sliced nice and thin. Maybe he was just counting on one big job, instead of four."

"And playing us for suckers," said Clip, with a slow nod. "That's what Grease thinks, although he hasn't said so."

The two silenced, as Grease came storming back. Slashing the curtain shut with one hand, Grease gestured a half-filled glass with the other. Turning, he took a gulp of liquor, then wagged a forefinger in emphatic fashion.

"Flush Tygert has pulled a runout," voiced Grease, thickly. "He'll clean up a couple of hundred grand out of those rocks he grabbed from old Breddle.

He

won't ever show his face around here; his own, or any other -"

A heavy thump interrupted. It came from the apartment door. Clip was the first man to reach it; as he opened the door, he heard a snarl from Grease.

Flinging his glass aside, Grease started forward with a drunken lunge, trying to tug a revolver from his pocket. Banker jumped in front to intercept him. Unable to guess what it was all about, Clip pulled a gun to cover the man who had entered. Seeing the fellow's face, Clip mouthed:

"Barney Kelm!"

Banker had Grease under control and was shoving him to a battered sofa.

Nudging the door shut, Clip concentrated on Barney. Ordinarily, such a situation would have called for smart bluff work, but it was useless, now that Grease had given things away. Clip came to the real point in a hurry.

"Hello, public hero!" he snapped. "Think you're a copper, too, don't you?

Figured we were working with Flush Tygert. Well, that means it's your own idea,

or the bulls would have come here ahead of you."

Barney's big lips spread in a wide grin.

"Suppose I told you that this joint was covered," he said, "with coppers all around, outside. What would you guys do about it?"

"We'd put the blast on you," informed Clip, "and then shoot it out with them. Only, you haven't got those coppers with you, Barney. You thought you could bluff us better alone."

Barney said nothing. He simply stepped to the table and picked up a greasy

pack of cards. He picked out four spades, showed them in his left hand, then dropped them faces upward.

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