Shadow 266 - Young Men of Death 04-1-43, 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

AS soon as they were out of sight, Cranston began to walk slowly along the sidewalk. Soon another cab approached. Cranston got in when the driver hailed him.

The driver of the cab was a hacker named Moe Shrevnitz. He enjoyed the reputation of being one of the smartest taxi drivers in Manhattan. But he had a far more useful purpose in driving that cab.

Moe Shrevnitz was an agent of The Shadow!

In Moe’s cab, Lamont Cranston ceased to exist. When the cab stopped presently in the late afternoon dusk, The Shadow emerged.

He had returned to the rear of the Bellinger mansion. His black cloak and low-drawn, slouch hat made him seem part of the darkness.

A narrow alley led to a high board fence. On the other side of that fence, The Shadow approached a lighted window. It was the kitchen window of the Bellinger home. Inside, a man was visible. Pitman, the butler of Marcus, was busily cleaning silver.

Alongside the lighted window was a dark one. This window led to the pantry. The Shadow used a sharp cutting tool to remove the pane. He entered without the knowledge of the butler in the adjoining room.

The pantry seemed like a hopeless cul-de-sac for The Shadow to choose for an invasion. Its only door led into the kitchen, where Pitman sat with his cutlery and silver polish.

But The Shadow was patient. He didn’t expect Pitman to remain indefinitely in the kitchen.

Presently, he heard a ring from the front doorbell. Pitman heard it, too. He rose, hurried through the house to answer the ring.

He had hardly faded before The Shadow was on the move. A swift advance took him through the kitchen, into the dimmer expanse of a long corridor.

Like a moving patch of blackness, he glided to the foot of the ornate front staircase. From where he stood, he had a partial glimpse of the front door.

A man was standing in the entry. He looked like a workman. He was carrying a stout leather satchel.

“Phone company repair man,” be said crisply. “I understand there’s something wrong with a phone.”

“Quite so,” Pitman said. “This way, sir.”

The man stepped forward into the vestibule light. For an instant his features were clearly revealed.

The telephone repair man was - Mike Vallon!

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