Maxwell Grant - The Shadow 189 by Death's Premium

Author:Death's Premium
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-14T23:23:02+00:00

Producing the falsified bill that The Shadow had left in Juble’s trunk, Regar passed it over with the question:

“Do you recognize this, Mr. Arnaud?”

“Of course!” The Shadow’s tone was harsher, more brisk than the one he used as Cranston. “I made out this bill myself.”

“May I ask what were the services that you rendered to Claude Juble?”

A hard smile registered itself on the faked lips of Arnaud. Regar saw shrewdness in the glitter of the eyes that peered through half-closed lids. The Shadow’s tone was cold.

“In my own behalf,” he said, “I should like to ask just why you are interested in any of Juble’s transactions.”

THE retort pleased Regar. In Arnaud he was recognizing a man of his own sort. He could foresee a heart-to-heart talk, crook to crook, which would make everything much easier.

“I happen to have a considerable sum of money,” declared Regar, “which Juble intrusted to my care. It is my duty” - he shook his head sadly - “to pay off my dead friend’s debts and turn over the remaining cash to members of his family.”

Without a word The Shadow took a pen from Regar’s desk, wrote something on the bill and extended it toward Regar. The sharp-eyed man stared at the writing; it was a receipt for payment.

With a bland smile, Regar reached into a desk drawer, brought out a stack of money and counted out thirty-two hundred and fifty dollars.

Pocketing the cash, The Shadow arose. He let his lips turn downward in an expression of disdain.

Evidently, Henry Arnaud regarded the cash as a very trivial sum. Regar was quick to take advantage of the disappointment that Arnaud registered.

“You expected more, Mr. Arnaud?”

Turning toward the door, The Shadow paused. Meeting Regar eye to eye, he said in Arnaud’s cold, harsh tone:

“This was chicken feed! If Juble had lived, I could have made this amount a hundred times over!”

Leaning back in his chair, Regar clasped his hands in front of him. Suavely, he suggested:

“Tell me more, Mr. Arnaud.”

“Why not?” Arnaud’s tone was a sneer. “Who can prove anything, now that Juble is dead? There’s a lot of money in imports, Mr. Regar, provided that they come in duty free.”

Regar gave a wise nod. He inferred that Arnaud was the big shot of a smuggling racket, with Juble the fence who disposed of the tainted goods. It fitted well with Juble’s character, such crooked business, conducted under the protective name of Vayne Co.

“Why do you suppose Juble wanted old Vayne to quit?” demanded Arnaud. “Not just because the business wasn’t big enough for both. Juble wanted full control so he could work with me without anyone getting wise.”

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