Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 285 by Maxwel l Grant

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

CHAPTER XII

THE question of Claybourne's trophies, as represented by his unstuffed wall safe, was quite a problem for Messrs. Gilbin and Borgand. Aloof from the law, these two gentlemen were seated in a lavish hotel suite, bemoaning a loss which in their parlance was defined as fifty grand.

At least this phoney pair could afford to be comfortable in privacy. They were sitting in shirt sleeves and slippers, sprinkling ashes on a costly rug, freely calling each other by their wrong names of Sheff and Hippo.

"Look at this dump." Sheff snarled as though wishing the walls had ears. "Twenty-five smackers a day for a front we can't use."

"And didn't need in the first place," reminded Hippo. "What did Claybourne care about where we came from, so long as our check wasn't rubber?"

"It was good business staying here at first," argued Sheff, "considering we were playing a ten to one shot for a sure thing."

"Five to one," corrected Hippo. "You said yourself that only half of Claybourne's paper would be negotiable. Say, though - now that Craver has the brand on him, why don't we pull out our potatoes by stopping payment on that bank marker we handed Claybourne?"

Sheff's scoff was savage.

"With Craver missing along with the dough? You're big enough to be grown up, Hippo. All that's keeping us in the clear is the fact we played sucker and are sticking with it."

"Yeah? What about The Shadow?"

"You mean why is he in the clear? Because that's his racket. Only this time he may have played it too strong for the commish. If he has, that might help us though."

"How?"

For reply, Sheff began with a sharp smile which on his sallow face gathered a Satanic prophecy.

"This business of The Shadow being always right has given him all the big innings," asserted Sheff. "It's time it was the other way around. If somebody declared an open season on The Shadow, what would happen?"

"I know a dozen guns would go after him."

"And so do I. For peanuts, too, and paid on delivery."

"Say, maybe that would help us get Claybourne's paper, Sheff."

"If The Shadow has it, yes" - Sheff's forehead formed dark furrows - "but I'm not sure just where The Shadow stands. Not until we talk to Shebley."

There was a knock at the door before Hippo could reply and it made the big man scramble in a fashion suiting his nickname. Hippo was grabbing for coat and vest, while looking for his shoes. It wouldn't do for Mr. Artemus Borgand to be caught dishabile in such pretentious surroundings.

"Forget it, Hippo," snorted Sheff. "You ought to know Shebley's knock. I sure timed it, didn't I?"

Stepping to the door, Sheff opened it, to admit the spick-and-span chauffeur who piloted the Brock limousine. Dapper at a distance, Shebley showed the face of an ingrown rat when viewed at this close range; habitually he probably tried to control that expression, but there was no necessity here. In fact, Shebley needed to be tough, as he plainly saw when Sheff closed the door and leaned against it.

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