Shadow 217 - Mansion of Crime 03-01-41, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ENTERING the lobby, Stan looked about, but no one hailed him. He went to the veranda, saw people that he knew chatting there, among them Albert Carthwright. None of them seemed to be looking for Stan, so he went into the lounge, hoping that he might find the “friend” that Thorndon’s servant had mentioned.

The lounge proved a blank, and Stan was more puzzled than ever, when he suddenly remembered the telephone booths. He went there.

A man sidled from a booth to meet him. Stan stopped, frozen, as be stared at the dark, wise-featured visage of Roger Frack!

“What’s the trouble, Stan?” gibed Frack, in an undertone. “I’m no ghost. You act like you’d seen The Shadow.”

Shakily Stan darted a look toward the lobby. He saw several persons there, most of them strangers. One in particular, a man with calm, hawkish features, was comparatively close. He happened to be at the desk, arranging for a room.

Stan urged Frack deeper from sight and peered at the lobby again, waiting until the hawkish stranger had gone upstairs, accompanied by a bellboy, with his bags.

“Why did you come here?” Stan demanded, facing Frack. “You could have phoned me.”

“Not from where I am at present,” returned Frack coolly. “It might be traced. Besides, I’ve heard from the bigshot. He’s ready with the proposition.”

“I’m not sure that I want it, Frack.”

“As foolish as ever, aren’t you, Stan? Listen: You won’t have to do anything you wouldn’t want to do. Nothing like robbery, or -“

“Or murder?”

Frack smiled away the reference that Stan inserted so sharply. Smooth as ever, the go-between continued:

“No crime at all, Stan. You won’t even have to act as front. We’re letting you out easy; that is, the bigshot is. He just wants to be sure that you stay around, and when everything has blown over; you’ll get your bum checks back.”

Stan waited, knowing there would be more. Frack added it, coolly as ever.

“All you have to do,” he said, “is ask Helene Prendle -“

Frack’s words ended in a choke, as Stan’s hands caught the fellow’s throat. Flaying the man back and forth beside the booths, Stan grated in his ear:

“You leave Helene out of this!”

With that, he relaxed his grip. Frack sagged against a phone booth, clutching his throat to ease the pain. His eyes glared; then, finding his voice, he panted:

“You fool! Why couldn’t you hear me through? You wouldn’t want Helene left out of it, not if you knew what we’re asking. We’re giving you the chance you’ve hoped for. We want you to marry Helene Prendle!”

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